africa

Congo’s colonial ghost

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By Khaled Diab

As we approach the 50th anniversary of independence, how successful has Congo's post-colonial experience been?

28 April 2010

Preparations are under way in the Democratic Republic of Congo for celebrations to mark 50 years of independence in June. The Congolese government has reportedly set aside $2 million for the festivities. Guests of honour will include a high-level Belgian delegation, headed by King Albert II, who will be on his first official visit to the former colony.

With these festivities in the air, how has the first half-century of independence been for the Democratic Republic of the Congo?

While it’s difficult to sum up the past 50 years, one thing that can be said with some confidence is that they have been troubled – from the western-backed murder of independence leader Patrice Lumumba, through the long and repressive Mobutu dictatorship, to the Second Congo War, known as Africa’s World War, not only because of its being the deadliest conflict since the second world war but also because it involved seven foreign countries.

Today, a stability of sorts has descended upon the country with its elected dictator, Joseph Kabila, although fighting continues in a number of provinces of this vast country, particularly in the east.

Despite its enormous mineral wealth, the DRC is one of the poorest countries in the world, largely due to the uncontrolled plundering of its resources. With a per-capita GDP of around $100 per year, it comes close to the bottom of the well-being league, though its human development index is constantly rising.

In fact, Congo is a classic example of the fragile African state. So, what lies behind this fragility?

A key factor is a failure of leadership on a monumental scale. Political corruption, coupled with weak state institutions, has ensured that the main function of Congolese politics, like in many other African countries, is to serve the private ends of the ruling elite.

"The political class in Congo is shit," Joseph Nzau, a 55-year-old Congolese professional based in Brussels, told me in no uncertain terms. "Politicians don't have the common good in mind. They want to enrich themselves first and their clans second."

Whereas political corruption may skim some of the cream off the top of the pie in countries with effective governance, in places like the DRC, it gobbles up the lion's share of the cake, as attested to by the vast fortunes Mobutu and his cronies accumulated or squandered.

But should Congo's political class cop the entire blame? Well, there are certainly other factors at play. The DRC is about the size of western Europe, but the country has a population that is smaller than Germany's and yet is divided into some 250 ethnic groups speaking an equivalent number of languages. Governing such a huge and diverse land mass, with a relatively low population density, not to mention poor infrastructure and a state that is weaker than probably even the smallest European states, is no easy matter.

Much as apologists for Europe's colonial legacy and those afflicted with selective amnesia would like to believe, the reality is that Congo's colonial experience, as in so many other post-colonial states, has caused deep and lasting scars, and very much handicaps the modern state. "The situation of Congo today is a consequence of Belgian colonisation," Nzau says, expressing a common Congolese perception.

But this link between European colonialism and the current turmoil in much of sub-Saharan Africa is not just a case of Africans looking for someone else to blame, as is so often claimed. In fact, the same link was explicitly made in last year's European Report on Development. "The scramble for Africa ... is a natural candidate for the historical origin of the fragility plaguing many sub-Saharan African countries," the report stated.

But why should such a relatively short sojourn have such a profound impact? In the case of Congo, part of the reason is that there was a centuries'-long prelude. Prior to direct rule, most of central Africa was depopulated as a consequence of the European slave trade to the west and, to a lesser extent, the Arab slave trade to the east. This, for example, helped accelerate the eventual collapse of the once-powerful indigenous kingdom of Kongo (which had different borders to the contemporary DRC).

The ruler, Nzinga Mbemba Affonso, an early convert to Christianity, wrote regularly to the king of Portugal to complain about the effects of the slave trade on his subjects:

Each day the traders are kidnapping our people – children of this country, sons of our nobles and vassals, even people of our own family. This corruption and depravity are so widespread that our land is entirely depopulated. We need in this kingdom only priests and schoolteachers, and no merchandise, unless it is wine and flour for mass.

Undoubtedly, the worst chapter in Congo's history was when the country became the personal property of King Leopold II, who wanted a domain to match his ego. The king infamously described Belgium as "petit pays, petits gens" ("small country, small people") due to his subjects' lack of appetite for empire – unsurprising given that they had been ruled for centuries by foreign powers, including the Spanish, the Habsburgs, the French and the Dutch.

Jealous that he did not preside over an empire like his cousin, Queen Victoria, across the Channel, Leopold spent years in search of a land that he could transform into his personal fiefdom. With the help of the dodgy Welsh-born American explorer and journalist Henry Stanley (born John Rowlands), Leopold set his sights on a part of Africa unclaimed by the other European powers which he eventually gave the name Congo Free State. During his private rule, an estimated 2-15 million Congolese died through forced labour and other forms of exploitation.

International outrage and one of the first major human rights campaigns in modern history led to the Belgian government taking Congo off Leopold's hands and annexing it. Although the worst human rights abuses ended, the main priority of the Belgian Congo, despite Belgium's earlier reluctance to enter the colonial game, remained the exploitation of the country's mineral wealth for the benefit of the Belgian economy.

During the period of direct rule, the European institutions and structures that were brought in took little account of local culture and conditions. After independence, rather than reform the state, local leaders simply took it over, alienating themselves from the population.

The 50th anniversary of independence should give Belgians and Congolese pause for thought. In the coming half-century, the Congolese need to overcome the legacy of the past and take command of their future. For their part, Belgians need to recognise that their colonial legacy is not just an issue for historians but that it helped create the current mess.

This is the extended version of an article which appeared in the Guardian newspaper's Comment is Free section on 21 April 2010. Read the full discussion here.

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Rebel without a hope

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By Khaled Diab

Like an ageing rocker, Muammar el-Gaddafi is on a mission to rid Africa of poverty and conflict. But are his dreams of a United State of African to prove as futile as his earlier visions of Arab unity?

February 2009

There is something of the ageing rock star about the Libyan leader Muammar el-Qathafi (pronounced Gaddafi in the Libyan dialect). It’s not just his unkempt hair, his eccentric sense of dress, his insistence on sleeping in a tent and the female bodyguards who surround him like tough-as-nails and confident groupies – and how all this confuses the staid and conventional leaders he visits.

The Libyan leader sees himself as being antiestablishment and has a penchant for rubbing the political the Arab, African and western political establishment up the wrong way. But after four decades at the top, he is the establishment and his radical rhetoric is wearing very thin.

Gaddafi actually reminds me somewhat of Bob Geldof: he had a couple of early hits, failed to make it into the rebels’ hall of fame and has kept his dimming star alight by projecting himself as a saviour and harbinger of world peace.

Isolated by the American-led sanctions regime and ridiculed by his Arab counterparts, Gaddafi embraced his African brethren – and African leaders, such as Nelson Mandela, helped break Libya’s international isolation. After angrily turning his back on the frustrating quest for Arab unity, Gaddafi has centred his attentions on African unity.

In co-operation with South Africa and Nigeria, Libya played a pivotal role in transforming the toothless body known as the Organisation of African Unity into the nascent African Union which was established in 2002 – which many disappointed Africans dismiss as another impotent talking shop where African leaders get to rub shoulders at taxpayers’ expense.

Earlier this month, Gaddafi was elected chairman of the AU, not to mention hailed as “king of kings” by his entourage of tribal African leader.

The maverick – some would say delusional – colonel then wasted no time in rocking the boat, ruffling feathers and pushing his reality-lite visions. He not only dismissively asserted that democracy could not work in Africa because of tribalism, he urged the assembled leaders to merge into a single “United States of Africa”.

I like it when people think out of the box, but Gaddafi’s idea is so far out there that it belongs on another continent that has not yet been discovered. I am a believer in gradual integration and may be even the eventual emergence of some kind of loose union.

However, this is a clear case of putting the cart before the horse. Too many African states are having trouble enough ending or avoiding conflict within their arbitrary borders that going for an even larger geographical union is bound to spell disaster – or at the very least total paralysis.

In addition, the AU has generally failed to live up to expectations. Its key successes relate to the peacekeeping efforts in such hotspots as Darfur and Somalia, as well as interventions in support of democracy in Togo and Mauritania. But the continent’s overall democratic deficit remains huge, and the AU’s mechanisms for promoting greater integration and transparency, as well as rooting out corruption, have so far failed to achieve significant results. How on earth can this dysfunctional body be transformed overnight into a US of Af, as Gaddafi wishes?

Despite support from some AU members, such as Senegal, most Africans have reacted sceptically, with some African leaders suspicious that the Libyan leader – who used to support myriad revolutionary groups – is out to topple them by other means.

“Gaddafi should first let African countries sort out their myriad domestic problems before they can start aspiring for grander things,” an editorial in Kenya’s the Standard sensibly pointed out. “Unity won’t be an automatic panacea to the insurmountable problems we are likely to face. We should learn from the European Union where countries are strictly vetted before admission to the bloc.”

“Unlike Europe, Africa has not succeeded in moving beyond the most rudimentary stages of the [integration] process,” argues Gerrit Olivier, co-director of the Centre for African and European Studies at the University of Johannesburg. “African countries, in spite of the notions of African unity and pan-Africanism, stick rigidly and evangelically to the Westphalian model of absolute national sovereignty.”

And therein lies one of the key stumbling blocks along the road to African, as well as Arab, integration. Whereas post-war Europe has pursued a pragmatic gradualist policy, in Africa and the Arab world – grappling with the dual curse of colonial legacy and corrupt and ineffective leadership – hollow and haughty rhetoric traditionally took the place of concrete action. The AU has been an attempt at pragmatism, but Gaddafi is doing his best to derail that.

“Gaddafi must stop promoting dictatorship and supporting leaders who do not respect the wishes of their people with reckless proclamations like his infamous ‘revolutionaries do not retire’,” advises Tajudeen Abdul Raheem, deputy director of the UN Millennium Campaign in Africa.

Although he has modernised Libya and done it some good, the isolation he has brought to the country, the wastage of its oil wealth on promoting global revolution and other crackpot schemes, as well as his oppression and poor human rights record, count greatly against him.

Of course, in his warped view, Gaddafi doesn’t see it that way. Officially, he retired from politics in 1979 and holds no official title but, in an Orwellian twist, he calls himself “Brotherly Leader and Guide of the Revolution”. The country, which he calls a “jamahiriya” (a term he coined to mean government by the masses), is supposed to be run by a collection of local popular assemblies, but no prizes for guessing who actually calls the shots.

Gaddafi has not been idle on the domestic front either, and is following up his ‘Africa unite’ hit with an ‘I wanna be anarchy’ scheme that is just as muddled but almost charmingly naïve in its idealism. Disillusioned by widespread corruption, Gaddafi has urged Libyans to endorse his proposal to dismantle the government and give the oil wealth directly to the people.

When I read the news, I thought that some good – instead of the occasional hassle at airports – could finally come out my having been born in Libya, and I could apply for citizenship to get some of that action. Seriously, while I applaud the idea of giving Libyan’s a fair stake of their country’s oil wealth, how does he propose that Libya function without a government?

Four decades at Libya’s helm have done his sense of reality no good and it’s time for Gaddafi to actually retire. His people could do without this particular comeback kid.

A shorter version of this column appeared in The Guardian Unlimited’s Comment is Free section on 19 February 2009. Read the related discussion.

This is an archive piece that was migrated to this website from Diabolic Digest

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The summit of hypocrisy

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By Khaled Diab

If Arabs want their concerns about other nations’ war crimes to be taken seriously, then they should not be welcoming Sudanese president Omar al-Bashir to their countries and summits.

April 2009

With the way Omar Hassan al-Bashir has been jetting around the Middle East and Africa, you might be excused for thinking he was not a wanted man. In recent weeks, he has visited half a dozen countries, including Eritrea and Egypt, both of which are signatories (pdf) to the International Criminal Court but have not yet ratified the Rome Statute establishing it.

The world's most wanted head of state topped it all off with an Arab summit in Doha which reiterated "our solidarity with Sudan and our rejection of the measure of the ... International Criminal Court against his Excellency". Bashir explained his decision to attend the summit as "a message to the western world that Sudan will not be isolated".

Perhaps trying to show he is at peace with his conscience or as a secret plea for divine intervention, the first sitting head of state to be indicted for war crimes flew to Saudi Arabia to perform an umra, or mini pilgrimage. He even defiantly said that he was willing to attend the annual UN general assembly, if he was invited.

Many Arabs and Africans see Bashir's indictment as a manifestation of racism, western imperialism under a different guise, especially given the fact that the only cases currently before the ICC are all against Africans.

Some will dismiss these concerns with a glib assertion that justice is blind and that Arabs and Africans are being hypocritical in their defence of a war criminal. But there is a strong whiff of – if not hypocrisy – double standards and of picking a soft target in the ICC's decision to pursue the Sudanese president. For instance, I recently outlined the strong arguments for indicting George W Bush for war crimes and crimes against humanity.

So why has the ICC not started similar proceedings against the former US president? Because the US has not signed up to the ICC and so the court has no jurisdiction over Americans? Well, the same applies to Sudan which, like the US and Israel, has also indicated that it will not ratify the Rome Statute. The answer is, of course, obvious: justice may be blind, but she has a sixth sense that tells her not to mess with the big guys.

Just like many Arabs are outraged that the ICC should indict Bashir, many Americans get furious at the mere suggestion that their own leaders might be criminal mass murderers. After the publication of my Bush article, one furious American, who called me a "moon worshipper" without explaining what that meant, emailed me to ask how I dared question the intentions of the "great" George W Bush, and to inform me that his only regret was that the former president had not killed more Arabs.

What this proves is that making exceptions for your own side is not exceptional and that hypocrisy knows no national or cultural boundaries. But if the west wishes its moral stances to be taken seriously by its former colonies, where some of the world's most serious crimes against humanity are committed, then it has to be seen to be pursuing justice whether it involves friends or foes.

"How can an ordinary citizen in the Arab or Muslim world believe that the international community applies international law [impartially] and is concerned about the welfare of Muslims in Darfur… at a time when the rights of millions of Arabs and Muslims are violated in Iraq, Palestine, Afghanistan and other places?" asks Hassan Nafe'ah, an Egyptian expert in international law. "We don't object to trying Bashir and any other Arab tyrant, as long as they are preceded by Bush and Olmert and others of their ilk," he concludes.

Pointing fingers at western hypocrisy is, in itself, not a sufficient defence, since double standards are duplicity whether practised by the powerful or the weak. If Arabs wish their concerns over atrocities committed by the US in Iraq or Israel in Gaza to be taken seriously, they need to apply similar standards to their allies. That does not mean they have to hand Bashir over to the ICC, especially given their fears that it could destabilise Sudan, but, at the very least, they should condemn his two decades of terror and ostracise him for the crimes he has committed against his own people.

Bashir's two decades ruling Sudan have been a constant chain of conflict and war – from the civil war between north and south to the more recent conflict in Darfur – in which the total body count is unknown but could be anywhere between two and three million.

There is a widespread belief that, in the ugly balance of reality, African and Arab lives are worth less that western ones. But by expressing solidarity with a known mass murderer, Arabs and Africans are also cheapening the value of their own lives.

This column appeared in The Guardian Unlimited’s Comment is Free section on 8 April 2009. Read the related discussion.

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Guilt trips

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Khaled Diab

Travelling to poor countries may be incredibly rewarding, but it poses some uncomfortable ethical dilemmas.

June 2009

A conference I recently attended in Accra, Ghana, was held in a plush resort. With spacious rooms, sea views and a swimming pool, the swanky surroundings were certainly comfortable – but I felt ill at ease.

An Accra street. Image Copyright Khaled Diab

An Accra street. Image Copyright Khaled Diab

The venue was probably chosen partly to enable the specialised junkies to withdraw from society and get high together on liberal and concentrated doses of the topic in question – African development. Nevertheless, this Ibiza of the intellect – laced with stimulating, mind-altering debate – troubled me. You could say I felt a little like Alice in Ponderland: abstractly debating a topic while people just down the road lived its harsh reality.

Not far from the hotel, families were living in run-down houses that looked about the size of my room and women were swaying along with heavy jerry-cans of water balanced almost magically on their heads. Then again, a little further still, in this most developed country in West Africa, there are Ghanaians living in middle-class comfort and upper-class splendour in housing developments sold in euros.

After the conference was over, I moved to a more modest hotel in Accra town centre. Although the furniture was tacky and the fittings rickety, it was clean and more comfortable for my conscience, not to mention my wallet. From my new base, I got a better opportunity to acquaint myself with a society which was both a major hub in the transatlantic slave trade and, thanks to its first president Kwameh Nkrumah, a central player in the pan-African movement. Incidentally, Ghana's first-ever first lady was an Egyptian.

I love travelling in order to savour the breadth and wealth of human culture and civilisation. But travelling to poor countries, in particular, poses certain ethical challenges. In my native Egypt, where people who can afford to travel abroad usually seek to flee poverty, people are often baffled by some of my travel choices. In Europe, many people travel to poorer countries, and those who don't are often motivated by a fear of the unknown. Some criticise such journeys as a kind of voyeurism. But surely all travel has an element of voyeurism. After all, tourists and travellers are, for the most part, spectators, although the more intrepid may seek occasionally to become part of the action.

Besides, it can be countered that those who refuse to spend time in poor countries are isolating themselves from the reality of the world and denying themselves much of humanity's cultural treasures. They are also robbing themselves of the incredibly warm hospitality of many poorer countries and the opportunity for cultural exchange, as well as depriving locals of their money, the pride that outsiders are interested in their country, and the chance to embark on the poor person's equivalent of overseas travel – meeting foreigners.

Indeed, some countries may be materially poor but possess some of the richest, most sophisticated cultures in the world. Perhaps the most extreme example is Ethiopia, which has been relegated from the premier league of civilisations and now has the unenviable distinction of being among the top 10 least-developed countries. Lalibela is a sad embodiment of this contrast: the ageless, immutable beauty of its rock-hewn churches, and the contemporary reality of the surrounding hungryside.

Despite this, the rich culture lives on and Ethiopians are proud – even arrogant in their aloofness towards other Africans – sophisticated people. Of course, most people are unaware of this and their idea of Ethiopia is informed by the Grand Wizard of charity pop Bob Geldof's description of it as a place "where nothing ever grows".

To maximise the benefits for yourself and the country you are visiting, it is crucial to travel responsibly. My wife and I are sensitive to the local culture, respectful of the people and try, but don't always succeed, to deal with all the attention we receive with patience and good humour. We strive to maximise the impact of every penny by trying to make sure that as much of it goes directly to ordinary people as possible. We never book accommodation through tour operators or travel agents and try to stay in and eat at small, family-run establishments. We try to pay a fair price for whatever we buy – both for the locals and for us.

It's a tricky balancing act. In many countries, tourism has had a corrupting influence, and when sellers see tourists, they also see big dollar signs. We tend to walk away from merchants and taxi drivers who try to rip us off outrageously, and reward those who are fair. We are proficient hagglers but often choose to pay above the local rate as a friendly gesture. After all, some euros extra here or there mean nothing to us but could make a big difference for a local family. As someone who could not afford to travel until relatively late in life, I feel very privileged to have the freedom to roam. But I am also keenly aware that one should not assume that tourism is an unqualified benefit to people in the country being visited.

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