The postcolonial regime led by Ngarta (formerly François) Tombalbaye followed the well-trodden path from securing a narrow 1960 majority to imposing a single party in 1963 and engaging in increasingly personalistic and autocratic rule. His bureaucracy was largely staffed by his Sara coethnics from southern Chad, where most colonial educational facilities had been concentrated.29 Their arrogant and abusive treatment of the Muslim north, imposition of higher cattle taxation and seizure of herds to enforce payment, and visible corruption provoked localized revolt by 1965, then sustained rebellion and the first guerrilla militia Front de libération nationale du Tchad in 1966, soon followed by a proliferation of armed militias and endemic civil war. In his last years, Tombalbaye, borrowing from the Mobutu script of “nationbuilding,” promoted doctrines of “authenticity” and “Chaditude,” buttressed by a delirious scheme to reinforce the personal subordination of state cadres through the obligation to undergo painful initiation rites into a Sara cult known as yondo.
Libya occupied the northernmost part of Chad, the Aouzou strip, from 1973 until 1987, and by 1980 it was periodically sending its forces further south, even promoting the idea of unification (that is, Libyan annexation). Sudan, Nigeria, and Congo-Kinshasa were also active players in the Chad civil wars and episodic peace agreements. The restoration of a single ruling leader, Hissein Habré, in 1982 led some to claim that a Chad state had been reborn.30 Habré did, with French military help, succeed in evicting Libyan forces from Chad by 1986 and in subduing or recuperating most militias. Qadhafy eventually accepted referral of his Aouzou strip claims to the International Court of Justice. The World Court after scrutiny of relevant colonial boundary demarcation documents concluded by 1994 that Chad was the bona fide possessor, and Libya accepted the judgment. However, the legacy of state failure was to endure. Habré proved a singularly sanguinary ruler, accused by a consortium of victims of assassinating as many as forty thousand dissidents, leaving eighty thousand orphans and thirty thousand widows, and of constructing horrendous torture chambers; he stands indicted for crimes against humanity before a Senegalese court authorized by the AU, though there have been long delays in opening the trial.31 An old adversary from a rival clan of the Zaghawa ethnic cluster of northeastern Chad, Idriss Déby Itno, launched an invasion from Sudan in 1990 that drove Habré into exile and eventual internment, but the pattern of armed factionalism continues. The operations against the Libyan garrisons and other militia resulted in the capture of up to $1.5 billion in modern weaponry, which Chad by 1987 began to sell off to diverse arms merchants, gun smugglers, and neighboring states, a significant element in the huge increase in the armament black market that fed proliferating militias in the African civil wars of the 1990s.32
Ghana began its independent life under what appeared to be highly auspicious circumstances. One of Africa’s most prosperous states at the time, the country was blessed with large foreign exchange reserves, an expanding cocoa-based economy, and swelling state revenues that grew tenfold in the final colonial decade. A competent bureaucracy had extensive experience in economic management. Under the charismatic leadership of Kwame Nkrumah, Ghana seemed poised for a journey to progress.
By the early 1980s, these hopes had vanished, supplanted by a public mood verging on despair. State revenues sharply dwindled, and the capacity to de liver basic services shriveled. The state suffered a deflation of its legitimacy, authority, and autonomy. Civil society in good part disengaged from the state, seeking shelter in the informal economy (kalabule), smuggling, petty crime, or, for about 10% of the population, other lands; in 1980, a million such emigrated Ghanaians were suddenly deported from Nigeria, overwhelming formal and informal coping mechanisms. The public, especially the urban sector, was driven to a variety of survival techniques: what Naomi Chazan terms the “suffer-manage” syndrome.33
The downward spiral began soon after independence, originating in a series of policy miscalculations. The original Nkrumah strategy of heavy extraction from the cocoa sector, the leading export commodity, to finance state-led industrial development backfired badly. The real value of the government cocoa purchase price fell by 75% between 1957 and 1965, the result of a combination of reduced payments to producers and new taxes: a “development tax” in 1959 and “forced savings” in 1961. At the same time, world market prices fell sharply during this period. New cocoa plantings all but ceased, and growing amounts were smuggled to neighboring Ivory Coast for hard currency. By 1972, an agricultural survey showed that production of yams, cocoyam, and rice was much more profitable than cocoa, mostly because the state did not control their marketing and had no effective way to tax these crops.34 Meanwhile, in the acid observation of Douglas Rimmer, socialism was “commonly interpreted to mean personal advancement rather than the abrogation of individual ambition, and no incongruity was seen between private enrichment and adherence to socialist principles.”35
Nkrumah plunged headlong into the construction of a state corporation empire: Ghana Airlines, Ghana National Construction Corporation, State Steelworks Corporation, State Gold Mining Corporation, Vegetable Oil Mills Corporation, Ghana Fishing Corporation, State Farm Corporation. There were some fifty in all by 1966, most operating with huge losses.36 The military regime that ousted Nkrumah in 1966 and its elected successor, Kofi Abrefa Busia (prime minister from 1969 to 1972), halted the dynamic of state expansion and even divested a handful of public enterprises, but with the military return to power under Ignatius Acheampong in 1972 a new populist era opened. Inflation, which had reached 40% per annum by the end of the Nkrumah period, returned with a vengeance, averaging 100% during the rest of the 1970s. Per capita income fell by one-third between 1971 and 1980 (in constant 1975 prices).37 The minimum wage, in real terms, was only 50% of the 1960 level by 1971; in the following decade real wages declined a further 70%.38 The Cocoa Marketing Board ceased publishing annual reports in 1973, and evidence accumulated that huge amounts were being skimmed by the ruling clique. The weekly West Africa calculated that a gap of nearly £500 million existed between reported cocoa export proceeds and the actual world price; Acheampong himself was believed to have diverted $100 million to overseas accounts.39 The Anin Commission created by Acheampong in 1975 to document the venality of his predecessors issued a blistering report, concluding that “corruption is endemic throughout the whole society,” affecting “practically every sector of public life where the possibility of corruption exists.” The report cited a distraught bishop who was moved to quote Isaiah: “The devout have vanished from the land; there is not an honest man left.”40
The deepening anger and despair led to a junior officer coup led by Jerry Rawlings in 1979, which the members of coup followed by unleashing an unprecedented social vengeance, executing the three previous military heads of state, Acheampong, Fred Akuffo, and Okatakyie Afrifa, as well as five other senior military officers. After another brief civilian interlude, Rawlings returned to power at the end of 1981 with a sharply radicalized discourse. Revolutionary change was promised, with workers defense committees and people’s defense committees created to mobilize popular support. Vigilantes were let loose in urban markets to force traders to sell at officially set prices; violent assaults on those deemed refractory were frequent. The most chilling atrocity was the murder of three high court judges, attributed to the regime.
But economic catastrophe overwhelmed efforts at populist mobilization. In utter desperation, a delegation of the radical intellectuals then serving as the last redoubt of supporters for the populist socialist phase of the Rawlings regime was dispatched in 1983 to Moscow to plead for Soviet economic rescue. The appeal fell on deaf ears; the Soviet Union was reconsidering its level of support in the fostering of a socialist orientation in Africa and urged the crestfallen delegation to turn to the IMF instead.
By this time, Ghana was in dire straits. A severe drought, rampaging inflation, a breakdown of law and order, the repatriated million citizens expelled from Nigeria: elements of the Rawling
s regime came to recognize that populist socialist discourse was an inadequate remedy for political and economic bankruptcy and precipitous state decline. Thus Rawlings dramatically changed course, declared war on “populist nonsense,” and embarked on what Jeffrey Herbst termed “the most comprehensive economic reform program on the continent.”41 Although this dramatic change in direction alienated parts of his initial constituency among workers, students, and radical elements of the military, his opening was seized by the international financial institutions as a heaven-sent opportunity to demonstrate the curative powers of their therapy; the World Bank, IMF, and Western donor community underwrote Rawlings and his new coalition with very large resources. The social costs of adjustment were heavy, but by the later 1980s Ghana visibly diverged from the downward trajectory of most of the continent in the “lost decade” and was on the road to recovery from state failure.
The fate of Mozambique was the third harbinger of the continental trend of state crisis by the early 1980s. Like Ghana, its independence was greeted with great expectations within and without Africa. Its armed liberation movement, FRELIMO, was a remarkably unified, coherent, and effective organization. Over the years of armed struggle, from 1964 to 1974, its socialist aspirations and drift to an Afromarxist orientation gradually deepened, though formal endorsement of Marxism-Leninism as regime doctrine awaited the 1977 party congress. The quality of its leadership (Eduardo Mondlane [1962– 1969], Samora Machel [1969–1986]), its resolutely national and multiracial orientation, and the formidable organizational weapon forged in the struggle years persuaded many that Mozambique combined the ingredients for successful development on a revolutionary path. For those in Africa and outside whose dreams were vested in discovering an exemplary model of socialist orientation, Mozambique was the last best hope after a chain of disappointments, beginning with Algeria and Ghana. Of the family of Afromarxist states, Mozambique stood out in the coherence of its project. In my 1982 work, Ideology and Development in Africa, written before impending crisis was clear, I described Mozambique as the bellwether of a socialist orientation in Africa.42
But already by this time storm clouds were gathering. Even though FRELIMO had long disavowed literalist devotion to Marxism-Leninism, ideology was a driving force in fashioning on the ruins of Portuguese colonialism a Leninist version of the integral state. Its leaders, in the telling phrase of Margaret Hall and Tom Young, while “proclaiming from the housetops their reliance on ‘experience,’ proved to be the prisoners of the most implacable abstractions.”43 Most of the economy was nationalized, partly, in the case of major mining and financial institutions, by ideological prescription, but in the case of the many medium and smaller enterprises abandoned by their Portuguese owners at independence also by practical necessity. Land was also nationalized; most of the former Portuguese settler estates in the south became state farms. Elsewhere, obligatory resettlement in state-designated villages and state cooperatives, influenced by the (not yet discredited) Tanzanian model, were imposed on much of the peasant sector.
The momentum of liberation enthusiasm, and the organizational energy of FRELIMO, for several years propelled Mozambique forward; until 1981 most macroeconomic indicators were positive. However, by 1980 Machel excoriated the state sector for lagging performance and famously remarked that the state did not need to sell matches. In 1981 the minister of agriculture admitted that not one of the state farms was profitable, despite having received the bulk of agricultural investment.44 Forced villagization was a clear failure, and the capacity of young party cadres to replace the customary chiefs as custodians of rural comity was limited. Despite FRELIMO action in expanding rural amenities—schools and clinics—peasant disaffection was clearly growing.
By 1981, a pattern of decline was becoming unmistakable. The economy was in free fall, and the state was showing signs of disintegrating. From 1981 to 1985, GDP fell by 8% a year. Marketed output of crops in 1986 was only 25% of the 1980 level, and industrial production was down by half.45 An escalating level of South African aggression placed growing pressure on FRELIMO; an insurgent challenge emerged with the appearance of Rêsistencia nacional moçambicana (RENAMO) in 1976, at first a creature of the Rhodesian security services intended to serve as a counter to the sanctuary and support Mozambique was providing for the Zimbabwe liberation movements.46 South Africa took over sponsorship after Zimbabwe achieved independence in 1980, and RENAMO began to find traction in some rural areas, profiting from peasant discontent. Its brutal tactics and extreme violence, as well as its notorious exploitation of often-kidnapped child soldiers, gave the movement a toxic image but nonetheless imposed growing costs on the regimes; by 1984 it was clear that FRELIMO lacked the military capacity to eliminate RENAMO. This led Mozambique to accept an accord with South Africa, trading denial of sanctuary to ANC fighters for an end to South African supply of and support for RENAMO. South Africa, however, only partly respected the 1984 Nkomati accord, and many still see a South African hand in the 1986 plane accident in which Machel perished. Civil war raged on; by 1987 over a million Mozambiquans had fled the unrelenting rural violence to neighboring countries. Mozambique was at bay; the regime could neither feed nor protect its population, putting its stateness in question.
As the crisis first became evident, Mozambique like Ghana sought succor from the Soviet Union. After a Machel pilgrimage to Moscow in 1980, Mozambique applied in 1981 for full membership in the Soviet bloc economic integration mechanism, the Council for Mutual Economic Assistance. Such a Mozambique partnership in the “camp of socialism” would have implied major aid commitments, which the Soviet Union and its East European satellites after some hesitation were not prepared to make. The rebuff of its membership application in 1982 was a critical turning point for Mozambique, forcing a wrenching reconsideration of its orientation. Although official abandonment of Marxism-Leninism occurred only at the Fifth FRELIMO Congress in 1989, by the mid-1980s ideology-driven discourse had vanished. FRELIMO suffered less from Western ostracism than its Afromarxist counterpart Angola, and its overtures over time found a response. American pressure on South Africa facilitated the 1984 Nkomati peace accord; Mozambique joined the IMF the same year, and by 1987 it had accepted the basic parameters of structural adjustment, earning debt relief and opening aid channels. The international community in the coming years played a major role in facilitating the negotiations with RENAMO beginning in 1990 and in securing an eventual settlement in 1992.
Mozambique’s trajectory resembled Ghana’s in another important respect; although both passed through a phase of evident state failure earlier than most other African states, they both overcame crisis more quickly than their counterparts; by the turn of the century both would figure on any list of the top ten state performers.47 Mozambique, however, is unique in negotiating the perilous passage from initial celebrated icon of liberation, through the depths of state failure, and back into the ranks of admired models without any change of regime. The remarkable continuity of FRELIMO as ruling party speaks well of its coherence and discipline. The pair of sudden leadership successions occasioned by the 1969 assassination of Mondlane and the 1986 unexplained plane crash that killed Machel were managed by the party without debilitating factional struggle; Joaquim Chissano, who replaced Machel, then retired voluntarily in 2004. Although a hegemonic mentality was continuous, and the popular enthusiasm of the liberation moment never returned, still, the regime never fell into the complete discredit of most of its counterparts. Nor, at least until Chissano retired, was neopatrimonialism or personalist rule a defining element in political life. From Leninist single party to multipartyism, from Afro marxist state-run economy to neoliberalism, FRELIMO maintained its organic identity through extraordinary policy orientation mutations.
DECLINE IN STATE CAPACITY, COMPETENCE, AND CREDIBILITY
What then may be identified as the common patterns associated with state crisis and failure? The shrinking ability to perform effectively the core functions that define
a state lies at the center. These clearly include the making and implementation of law, the preservation of public order and security, the projection of state authority throughout the territorial domain, the management of the national economy, the protection of property and contracts, and the provision of basic social services, means of communication and exchange, and physical infrastructure.48
The state in crisis experiences a sharp drop in its capacity, its competence, and its credibility. The overextended state of the late 1970s experienced a widening gap between its resources and its commitments. The revenue crisis had impacted state performance in multiple ways. The wage bill of the public service became unsustainable, which forced recourse—voluntary or involuntary—to one of two damaging choices. The real wage bill could be reduced by inflation, a widespread solution in the 1970s and 1980s. Or, in the countries of the French-backed CFA zone, where the convertible currency restricted inflationary policies, public sector wages could be paid with delays; in a number of countries these arrearages became a number of months. In either case, civil service morale and integrity plummeted; many diverted part of their energies to private pursuits or sought ways to monetize some aspect of their authority by demanding side payment for performance of their function. Furthermore, governments find themselves unable to meet the payments required to supply public services, provide social amenities, or maintain infrastructure.
This diminished capacity necessarily reduced the reach of the state, particularly in its peripheral areas. Outlying regions were first to experience shortfalls in government commitments. Local administrators found that supplies ceased to find replenishment, and so they had to fend for themselves to meet their operating needs. Government vehicles were out of fuel, in disrepair, or both; district officials were immobilized in their headquarters, pleading with local merchants or missions for transport assistance. In these circumstances the capacity of the state to exercise its routine authority and to perform basic governance functions was inevitably reduced, even if the territorial government buildings still had personnel in their offices for portions of the day.
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