by Guy Arnold
By the turn of the century South Africa was in a position in which it could easily overstretch its resources. ‘Some critics urged Mbeki to abandon talk of South Africa playing a role in the rebirth of Africa, and instead to distance himself from the tragedies unfolding elsewhere on the continent and assert the claim that South Africa was a different case.’25 Mbeki was much criticized over his statements in support of dissident scientists who questioned whether HIV was linked to AIDS and for suggesting an indigenous cure might be found. On the other hand, there was wide sympathy for his view that AIDS be considered in the context of poverty. However, his stand diverted attention from the problem of AIDS in South Africa where in 2000 an estimated 4.2 million people were infected with HIV. Overwhelming evidence forced Mbeki to alter his stand. The huge rise in crime during the 1990s became a major factor in politics and the events in Zimbabwe led to an increase in white emigration over 1999–2000. White businessmen objected to legislation designed to force companies to make their workforces representative of the country’s demographic divisions. An increasing number of young white males saw no prospect of jobs in South Africa and emigrated. The government had to face criticisms of the TRC for the amnesties granted to notorious whites such as Craig Williamson and members of the security forces responsible for murders of activists such as Ruth First in the 1980s. Further, demands for reparations by blacks remained unresolved and the TRC recommendations were not published by the government. In mid-2000 a wider Democratic Alliance was formed by the merger of the Democratic Party under Tony Leon and the New National Party under Martinus van Schalkwyk: Leon became the leader and van Schalkwyk the deputy leader of the new party. The government was criticized for a large arms deal in which it allocated R30,000 million for the purchase of arms from Britain and Sweden; the weapons were said not to be necessary and there were also accusations of corruption, with the result that four official inquiries were launched in 2000.
Assessments of Mbeki’s performance at the beginning of the new century were mixed. He faced huge problems: crime, which in part was seen to be a legacy of apartheid and refusal to obey the law; unemployment, housing, education and health. None of these problems could be easily or quickly overcome. At the same time large sectors of the population had electricity and clean water for the first time, while there were many new health clinics in rural areas. Corruption was another problem. ‘A special investigative unit, established by the Mandela administration, uncovered much corruption, but was threatened with disbandment by the government, which disliked its public image. The Mbeki government failed to set a strong example, and resources continued to be wasted through a mixture of inexperience, lack of expertise, mismanagement and corrupt practices.’26 On the other hand, the economy remained the strongest in Africa and there had not occurred an outflow of investment resources, despite the move of major companies to the London Stock Exchange, as had been feared.
By the end of the century Mandela had been more widely acclaimed than any other living politician: a hero for South Africa and an icon for a continent that all too often appeared the source of disaster stories. Yet, behind the image of a living legend there had always been a steely politician who had negotiated his way through the minefields of 1990–94 with masterly skill. In 1993 he had, with de Klerk, been jointly awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. In his speech of acceptance in Norway he had paid tribute to de Klerk: ‘He had the courage to admit that a terrible wrong had been done to our country and our people through the imposition of the system of apartheid. He had the foresight to understand and accept that all the people of South Africa must, through negotiations and as equal participants in the process, together determine what they want to make of their future.’ However, when asked how he could accept the prize with de Klerk whom he had criticized so severely, he said: ‘To make peace with an enemy, one must work with that enemy, and that enemy becomes your partner.’27 Mandela’s great achievement was to persuade black Africans not to seek to exact revenge for all the horrors of apartheid. There have been many judgements of Mandela and there will be many more in the future. The historian Welsh writes: ‘In his own person, Nelson Mandela combined much diverse South African history, Khoikhoi, Xhosa and English. A Thembu aristocrat, brought up to accept the obligations and privileges of leadership, he was heir to the Thembu traditions of accommodating oneself to events, reasonable discussion only giving way to action as a last resort.’28 In February 1999 Mandela addressed the final session of parliament in Cape Town before he retired as President at the 2 June elections. He called for a ‘new patriotism’ to counter the enemies of reconciliation. He summed up five years of achievement since he had become president. He said: ‘For a country that was the polecat of the world… the doors of the world have opened, precisely because of our success in achieving things that humanity as a whole holds dear. Of this we should be proud.’ Having parted from Winnie, Mandela married Graca Machel, the widow of the former President of Mozambique, who had witnessed plenty of suffering in Mozambique. She said of his achievement:
He symbolized a much broader forgiveness and understanding and reaching out. If he had come out of prison and sent a different message, I can tell you this country could be in flames. So his role is not to be underestimated too. He knew exactly the way he wanted to come out, but also the way he addressed the people from the beginning, sending the message of what he thought was the best way to save lives in this country, to bring reconciliation… Some people criticize that he went too far. There is no such thing as going too far if you are trying to save this country from this kind of tragedy.29
The new South Africa that bids to lead the continent in a renaissance owes its ability to adopt such a role to the moral leadership provided by Mandela.
Whatever South Africa’s relations with the United States, Britain, the European Union or Asia, its future lies in Africa where its performance as the regional economic and political superpower will have a profound impact upon the continent’s development in the twenty-first century. At home, the ‘trick’ for the ruling ANC must be how to use the white minority and integrate it into the new South Africa so that its expertise and energies are used to the benefit of the whole population; the success or failure of this integration process will determine the success or failure of the country as a whole. Integration is one of the hardest of all political exercises. By 1998, the euphoria generated during the first year of the new Rainbow Society had given place to white worries about what they stood to lose and black worries about what they had yet to obtain. Ex-President P. W. Botha said he would never apologize for apartheid and denounced the assault on the Afrikaner by the country’s new rulers. ‘I am not guilty of any deed for which I should apologize or ask for amnesty,’ he said. ‘In many circles the Afrikaner is being isolated to be punished for all the unfavourable events in the history of South Africa.’ Botha blamed the British and the Soviets: ‘The Afrikaner was a victim of (British) colonial greed… the recent conflicts in which we were involved were primarily against Soviet imperialism and colonialism.’30 Such attitudes were to be expected from the old hard-liners of apartheid; the question is whether such attitudes will truly disappear as South Africa faces the new century and whether the country’s new rulers can manage the trick of integration.
CHAPTER THIRTY - THREE
Democracy
The question as to whether or not African countries are democratic in the way the West defines democracy assumed great importance during the decade that followed the end of the Cold War. This new Western interest in the politics of Africa did not have a great deal to do with the intrinsic worth of democracy as such; rather, the emphasis upon democracy provided a useful means of exercising control over African economic policies. How African governments handled the complexities of running ‘democratic’ states was often treated with indifference in the West; what mattered was their acceptance of norms applied externally because only this way could political leaders ensure the continued flow of the all-important economic
assistance upon which their regimes depended for survival. In any case, ‘democracy’ in Africa is still under discussion. ‘Seen from the perspective of human history, therefore, the idea of popular democracy based on mass enfranchisement is still relatively new. Likewise there is a very short collective experience of different voting systems and rules to ensure that the democratic process gives as faithful a reflection as possible of the people’s wishes.’1 It is not that Western-style democracy cannot be made to work; the question is: do the ruling hierarchies want it to work? During the carve-up of the continent by the European powers in the nineteenth century, Africa mattered to Europe but the African people did not. At the beginning of the new century Africa’s resources and how to control them matter to the US, the EU and the transnational corporations but not the African people or the way in which they would develop if left to do so on their own. All states, whatever the political system, tend towards tyranny. The best that can be said of a democratic system is that it resists or offers a degree of protection against the tyranny of the state. Africans want and understand democracy as much as any of their external critics who argue that they prefer ‘strong government’, if by democracy is meant participation in the multiple decision-making processes that govern their lives. Almost all democracies come to be controlled by hierarchical groups – political parties, the rich, the establishment – where real power lies and decision-making takes place while the voters, the ordinary people, periodically have the chance to endorse or reject but almost never to control. In the developing world, ‘where political and other forms of corruption are more obvious and the conditions of life for the masses are far less tolerable than in the US or Britain, the response to such abuses is often more explosive’.2 This was borne out through the 1990s when mass protests, rioting and demonstrations often leading to significant amounts of violence preceded political changes that introduced a greater degree of democracy. Elites always try to manipulate or subvert democracy to their own ends and while paying lip service to the principle they restrict the process if there is any danger of it giving real power to the people. During the 1990s, moreover, there was a violent backlash against democracy by Africa’s authoritarian rulers, which was encouraged by the lack of any genuine support for democracy or human rights in Africa by the major world powers. An important perception of Africa in the 1990s suggested that economic stagnation worked in favour of authoritarian rulers since it made it easier for them to exercise their power, at least until the masses revolted. The acceptance by reluctant rulers of a democratic – or more democratic – constitution, either as a result of internal pressures or the external demands of aid donors, often led to a long battle in which the ruler attempted to claw back the concessions he had made. In several countries (Namibia in 1999) the ruling incumbent persuaded, or tried to persuade, the National Assembly to set aside a two-term limit on the presidency so that he could continue in power. In many countries, as a result of such manoeuvres, the people have become deeply cynical about the constitutional promises made by their rulers, suspecting, all too often correctly, that they will never give up power. Democracy in Africa cannot be treated in isolation from the wider international community, since ‘The present international political agenda is dominated by the twin imperatives of economic liberalization and democratization, the two being in practice intimately connected.’3
During the Cold War Western rulers often saw democracy in poor countries as a breeding ground for Communism: ‘To allow political freedom to flourish in the “third world” suddenly appeared as a hazardous strategy, and a fundamental reordering of development priorities occurred during this period.’4 The same author goes on to argue that the World Bank and IMF imposed structural adjustment programmes (SAPs) in Africa to create a free market and a minimal, technocratic and highly efficient state that must be shielded from the ‘distributional demands of its citizens’. Since the end of the Cold War meant the disappearance of any credible alternative to the capitalist development model, the result was a triumphant West assuming there was no alternative to its political model either. And so there was a sudden surge of political morality in the West with Britain’s Foreign Secretary Douglas Hurd suggesting that the promotion of good government was a ‘moral imperative’. Prior to 1990 the West used aid as a tool in its confrontation with the Communist world; post-1990 it commandeered the moral high ground and assumed it had the right to control development and insist upon democracy in the South. This brings us to the good governance debate.
Certain governments and international organizations never stop talking of democracy although the procedures they actually use are always authoritarian. In his book Deterring Democracy, Noam Chomsky advances the thesis that though the United States pays lip service to democracy in the Third World, it is only too ready to undermine it if there is any chance that it will lead to radical people’s choice – that is, a development pattern geared to the needs of the people that would necessarily put a stop to US/European/corporate investment designed to remove wealth from Africa (or anywhere else in the South). ‘In the client states of the Third World, the preference for democratic forms is often largely a matter of public relations. But where the society is stable and privilege is secure, other factors enter… If a country satisfies certain basic conditions, then, the US is tolerant of democratic forms, though in the Third World, where a proper outcome is hard to guarantee, often just barely.’5 The proper outcome referred to above is, always, one that favours and, indeed, accepts Western tutelage. Western economic controls are largely operated through the World Bank and IMF where the G7/8 states account for 40 per cent of the voting power and can always rely upon enough support from some of the smaller OECD countries to maintain an absolute majority so as to control the policies of these institutions. The whole of sub-Saharan Africa, on the other hand, controls only 4 per cent of the votes and consequently must submit to policies drawn up by the West in its interests. Development is not separate from democracy, as donors would maintain, but intertwined with it, at least if we accept in principle that development is about the welfare and advancement of the mass of the people. This is not to say that the West has everything its own way: ‘What happened after independence was the Africanization of politics, that is, the adjustment of imported political models to the historical, sociological and cultural realities of Africa. This is still going on today: the so-called democratic transitions are being reinterpreted locally.’6
In 1995 a document prepared by the French Ministry of Foreign Affairs indicated that there ‘were signs that authoritarian governments in Africa were taking vigorous counter-measures to halt the advance of democracy. In spite of the impressive size of popular pro-democracy pressures which were sweeping the continent and despite the general spread of multiparty political movements, some of which had actually toppled governments from power’.7 Sometimes, it seems, that in direct proportion as politicians, institutions and aid donors talk of the necessity of democracy in the developing world (Douglas Hurd’s moral imperative), in fact they operate to another agenda. The concept of good governance appears principally to be designed to sanction the right of Western countries to intervene in the countries of the South in order to promote and ensure the adoption of their vision of development and democracy, ‘while simultaneously marginalizing alternative interpretations. As such, the good governance discourse also serves to shield the West from democratic scrutiny. The rich countries are automatically regarded as democratic and able to democratize the third world as part of the larger development effort.’8
In the early 1990s, almost at the drop of a hat as it were, the West discovered what it had failed to notice throughout the years of the Cold War: that poor or corrupt governance was the principal reason for the failure of its development policies in Africa (and elsewhere). The remedy, therefore, was good governance as a precondition for sustainable economic development. The consequence of this discovery was the establishment of the Commission drawn from the great and the good of bot
h North and South that produced Our Global Neighbourhood. This lengthy document offers a blueprint for a better world. Its style – a rolling blandness – makes plain that its authors know what the world needs while hypocritically including prescriptions that they must equally have known would be ignored by the major powers. In the end, therefore, it is a series of prescriptions for them, the world’s poor or disfranchised, telling the people of the developing world what they must do to achieve acceptability with the powerful. There are too many statements as follows: ‘The threat to liberty in any part of the global neighbourhood needs to be seen as a threat to the entire neighbourhood. Action against attempts to violate the right to liberty is a common responsibility.’ This statement does not encompass the questions: who defines liberty; who decides; who intervenes, who prevents intervention? On democracy it is blandly superficial: ‘The spread of democracy has been one of the most heartening trends in recent years. It is democracy that can ensure that a country’s affairs are conducted – and its development directed – in ways that respond to the interests and wishes of the people.’ There is much praise for democracy with little attention paid to whether it actually delivers answers. Of the military it claims correctly that dominant military establishments are always a threat to democracy and in Africa there are many military establishments that have threatened successfully both the democratic and the autocratic traditions with equal impartiality. (The Commission does not examine the role of the military of the major powers.)