The Fortunes of Africa: A 5,000 Year History of Wealth, Greed and Endeavour

by Martin Meredith

  Several militant groups demanded further action. In 2002, a Maiduguri cleric, Mohammad Yussuf, formed Boko Haram, a Hausa name translated as meaning ‘Western education is forbidden’, seeking to establish a ‘pure’ Muslim state. In 2009, Boko Haram launched an insurgency aimed at overthrowing the federal government. Its targets included police stations, government buildings, schools and churches. It murdered moderate Muslim clerics and bombed mosques as well as attacking Christian communities. In 2010, it carried out a suicide attack on the United Nations headquarters in Abuja, the new federal capital. The federal government tried to curb the insurgency by letting loose the army. But year after year the insurgency resurfaced.

  The threat posed by Islamist groups preoccupied every regime across northern Africa. But the danger they faced was overtaken in 2011 by an explosion of public anger that ignited popular revolt against the corrupt elites entrenched in power for so long.

  What became known as ‘the Arab Spring’ developed from one single incident in a dusty provincial town in Tunisia. For twenty-three years, Tunisia had been ruled by Zine al-Abidine Ben Ali, an avaricious dictator who used a network of family members to establish a business empire that ranged from banks, insurance companies and hotels to transport and construction firms, with an estimated value of $10 billion. In a cable to Washington, a US ambassador described how Ben Ali’s family was widely regarded as a ‘quasi-mafia’ – ‘Whether it’s cash, services, land, property, or, yes, even your yacht, President Ben Ali’s family is rumoured to covet it, and reportedly gets what it wants.’

  On 17 December 2010, a 26-year-old street trader, Mohamed Bouazizi, set fire to himself outside a government building in Sidi Bouzid in protest against municipal officials who had confiscated his merchandise after accusing him of trading without a licence. Within hours of this solitary act, crowds gathered demonstrating against Ben Ali’s regime. Their protests spread like wildfire across Tunisia, fanned by social media networks such as Facebook and Twitter, and fuelled by years of pent-up grievances over poverty, unemployment, police brutality, rising prices, the greed of the ruling elite and the crippling lack of freedom. Police attempts at repression failed, and the army refused to intervene. After twenty-nine days of protest, Ben Ali fled to Saudi Arabia with his family.

  Inspired by Tunisia’s ‘jasmine revolution’, crowds in Egypt took to the streets calling for the overthrow of Mubarak. The protests were led initially by youth activists and students – the Facebook generation – but they were soon joined by hundreds of thousands of Egyptians of all ages, trades, classes and religions, demanding an end to his police state. After thirty years in power, Mubarak had amassed huge fortunes for himself and family members, maintaining his grip through a brutal security apparatus, while leaving most Egyptians mired in poverty.

  Demonstrators seized possession of Tahrir Square in central Cairo, turning it into a hub of revolutionary fervour. Mubarak tried to crush the uprising by unleashing riot police and gangs of thugs. But the army, the ultimate arbiter of power in Egypt, soon decided he had become too much of a liability and withdrew its support. After eighteen days of protest, Mubarak was forced to stand down.

  One week after Mubarak’s downfall, Libya caught fire. By 2011, Gaddafi’s dictatorship had lasted for forty-two years. He had used his control of Libya’s oil revenues to accumulate massive wealth for himself and family members, stamping out any hint of opposition or dissent along the way. His methods were ruthless. But the uprisings in neighbouring Tunisia and Egypt emboldened Libyans in the eastern city of Benghazi to stage their own demonstration. Anti-Gaddafi protests spread to other towns and cities, including Tripoli. Gaddafi tried to crush the demonstrations with his customary use of brute force. Government troops opened fire indiscriminately, killing hundreds of protesters. But public fury at the massacres turned into a popular uprising. Deploying tanks, air strikes and African mercenaries, Gaddafi ordered massive reprisals; government forces, he warned, would show ‘no mercy, no pity’. As his tanks advanced on Benghazi, the UN Security Council, fearing an imminent massacre there, intervened, authorising a ‘no-fly zone’ and ‘all necessary measures’ to be taken to protect civilians. Within hours, Britain and France, supported by the United States, launched air attacks on Gaddafi’s tanks and artillery, enabling poorly equipped militias to survive. Western forces went on to bring down Gaddafi’s regime altogether, using air supremacy to destroy his military power. In August, rebel militias took control of Tripoli; in October, Gaddafi was captured and killed in the coastal town of Sirte, his last loyal redoubt.

  Thus, within a matter of months in 2011, three long-standing dictatorships crumbled. But the hopes that the popular uprisings of the Arab Spring in north Africa might herald a more promising era soon began to fade.

  In Tunisia, a new struggle for power developed between left-wing political activists and trade unionists insisting on secular government; moderate Islamic groups committed to a plural form of politics; and militant Islamists campaigning for an Islamic state. Under Ben Ali’s dictatorship, the mosques, imams and the sermons they preached had been controlled by the government. But in the aftermath of his downfall, Salafist clerics were quick to take command of hundreds of mosques, mounting their pulpits to attack Tunisia’s links with the West and to demand the implementation of sharia law.

  In elections in 2011, a moderate Islamic party, Ennahda, gained the lead and went on to form a transitional government in coalition with secular parties. But it was slow to undertake reform of old government structures including the police and judiciary; it failed to stimulate economic growth or employment; and it allowed the Salafist movement to gather momentum. Encouraged by prominent Salafist imams, extremist groups resorted to terrorist violence. Tunisia’s political leaders expressed their determination to complete the transition to democracy but the 2011 revolution remained unfinished.

  In Egypt, the military establishment allowed the window of democratic opportunity to open only briefly. After sacrificing Mubarak to quell a popular uprising, Egypt’s generals made sure they were in a position to determine the outcome of its nascent revolution. Their priority was to protect the army’s budget and its huge economic empire. For years, the military had been accustomed to operating as a state within a state. It owned banks, insurance companies, shipping lines, factories and publishing houses. It had no intention of placing any of that in jeopardy.

  The military’s main challenge came from the Muslim Brotherhood. Accustomed to years of underground activity, it was better organised than any other civilian group. To survive the repression of Mubarak’s dictatorship, it had developed a centralised, hierarchical structure, reliant on secrecy and strict internal discipline with a ‘listen and obey’ credo. Its leaders were keen to push forward an Islamic agenda. ‘The Islamic reference point regulates life in its entirety, politically, economically and socially,’ said the Brotherhood’s chief strategist, Khayrat al-Shatir. ‘We don’t have this separation [between religion and government].’

  Election results in January 2012 gave the Brotherhood’s Freedom and Justice Party 43 per cent of the seats in parliament and a coalition of three hardline Salafist parties 25 per cent; secular parties gained no more than 20 per cent. With a 52 per cent turnout, the parliamentary elections were generally regarded as being free and fair.

  In the first round of presidential elections in May 2012, the Brotherhood’s candidate, Mohamed Morsi, an engineer with a doctorate from the University of Southern California, took the lead with 24.7 per cent of the vote. The military’s preferred candidate, Ahmad Shafiq, a former air force commander and the last prime minister to serve under Mubarak, came second with 23.6 per cent. With no clear majority, both candidates progressed towards a second-round run-off in June.

  Recognising the likelihood of a Brotherhood victory that would give it control of both parliament and the presidency, the military establishment stepped in to curb its advance. Two days before the second round took place, the ruling military cou
ncil dissolved parliament after a constitutional court packed with Mubarak-era judges questioned the legality of some of the January election results. On the second day of the run-off, the military council issued a decree stripping the president of authority over matters of national defence and security, and giving senior state officials effective veto power over the provisions of a new constitution.

  In the final result, announced on 24 June, Morsi took 51.7 per cent of the vote, compared to Shafiq’s 48.3 per cent, on a turnout of 52 per cent. In historical terms, Morsi’s victory was a dramatic event. It was the first time in their history that Egyptians had selected their ruler in free and fair elections. It was also the first occasion on which an Islamist had become the democratically chosen president of a modern Arab state.

  There was, however, immediate friction between Morsi and the old establishment of generals, judges and officials – ‘the deep state’, as it was known. In July, when Morsi attempted to reinstate parliament, he was thwarted. In August, in a move designed to enhance his authority, Morsi engineered the replacement of Mubarak-era generals with a new generation of senior officers, appointing Abdel Fattah al-Sisi, the 59-year-old head of military intelligence, as commander-in-chief and minister of defence. He also dismissed newspaper editors and judges and placed several hundred Islamists in key positions in central and local government. His actions became increasingly partisan. He made no attempt to reach out to non-Islamist groups to forge a wider consensus, and alienated Christian Copts – 10 per cent of the population – by shrugging off an invitation to attend the inauguration of a new Coptic pope.

  In November, Morsi provoked uproar when he issued a decree granting himself far-reaching powers not subject to judicial review or oversight, claiming they were needed to prevent Mubarak-era judges and other officials from sabotaging the passage of a new constitution – ‘weevils eating away at the nation’. Thousands of protesters flooded into Tahrir Square, the main hub of Egypt’s 2011 revolution, clashing with Morsi’s Islamist supporters.

  The process of drawing up a new constitution was already engulfed in controversy. Secular liberals and Coptic Christians pulled out of a drafting committee, protesting that the proposed constitution was weighted in favour of an Islamist agenda. Opposition leaders, youth groups and women’s organisations voiced similar alarm. Morsi ignored the protests, hastened the proceedings and announced a snap referendum, giving no more than two weeks’ notice. The referendum result, announced in December, showed that although nearly two-thirds of those voting approved the new constitution, only one-third of the electorate had participated, indicating growing disillusionment with Morsi’s regime. Protesters took to the streets once more. The military too began to stir, warning that the political crisis might lead to ‘a collapse of the state’.

  As well as political turmoil, Egyptians had to contend with a shrinking economy and crumbling public services. Food prices doubled in the space of a year. Tourism, which once accounted for a tenth of economic output, plummeted. Unemployment and crime soared. Power cuts and bread queues were commonplace. In the first five months of 2013, Egypt endured some 5,000 demonstrations and increasing levels of street violence. In the face of mounting discontent, Morsi retreated to his Islamist base.

  In April 2013, members of a new grassroots youth movement, Tamarod (Rebellion), launched a petition demanding Morsi’s resignation and in the following weeks collected millions of signatures. As the first anniversary of Morsi’s inauguration approached, Tamarod called for mass protests to mark the event. On 30 June, millions of Egyptians took to the streets, crowding into Tahrir Square in Cairo and rallying points in other cities.

  Impatient with the growing disorder, the military establishment issued an ultimatum, warning Morsi that if he failed to find a solution to the crisis within forty-eight hours, it would intervene. When Morsi rebuffed the demand, General Sisi moved to depose him and to decapitate the Brotherhood’s leadership ranks, imprisoning hundreds of its officials. Egypt’s experiment with democratic rule had lasted but a year.

  The military’s July coup was greeted with jubilation by demonstrators in Tahrir Square but elsewhere in Cairo, Morsi’s Islamist supporters set up protest camps and barricades. ‘Islam is coming,’ they shouted. ‘We will not leave.’ After weeks of deadlock, Sisi ordered a crackdown, sending security forces to crush Islamist resistance. In the ensuing massacre, more than 700 civilians were killed.

  Amid continuing violence, Sisi resolved to eradicate the Muslim Brotherhood once and for all, just as Nasser had done sixty years before. A concerted campaign was launched to brand Morsi’s Islamist supporters as traitors and terrorists. In September, a Cairo court banned ‘all activities’ by the Muslim Brotherhood and ordered its funds, assets and buildings to be seized. In October, Morsi and other Brotherhood leaders were put on trial on charges relating to actions taken during his presidency. In December, the Brotherhood was declared a ‘terrorist organisation’. In media outlets, Egyptians were told that only robust secular government stood in the way of an Islamist dictatorship. A personality cult blossomed around General Sisi, portraying him as the only man to save the country. The whiff of authoritarian rule grew ever stronger.

  Under military auspices, a new constitution was drawn up by a fifty-member committee that included only two representatives of Islamist parties. It provided the military establishment with significant powers, including the right to appoint the defence minister; to keep the military budget secret and beyond civilian oversight; and to put civilians on trial in military courts. A massive publicity campaign was launched to secure a show of public support for the constitution in a referendum in January 2014. Few dissenting voices were heard. The referendum result showed almost total support among those who voted – 98 per cent, according to official figures – on a turnout of 38.6 per cent. Brotherhood supporters stayed away. Pleased with the outcome, General Sisi put himself forward as a candidate in presidential elections, confident of winning. Once more, Egypt passed into the hands of a military strongman.

  In Libya, Gaddafi’s downfall was followed by a chaotic struggle between rival militias and a weak transitional government in Tripoli. Gaddafi’s dictatorship had ended with no functioning state institutions. The vacuum was filled by an array of armed groups, some set up by local cities and tribal leaders; some demanding autonomy for Libya’s eastern region; some controlled by jihadists; some preoccupied with smuggling and gun-running. Much of Libya collapsed into lawlessness.

  The repercussions spread beyond Libya’s borders. Tuareg mercenaries from Mali whom Gaddafi had recruited to serve in his army returned home with their heavy weapons and vehicles and reignited a rebellion against the Bamako government in southern Mali. Since Mali’s independence from France in 1960, Tuareg rebels had fought several insurrections, accusing the Bamako government of neglect and misrule of the vast stretch of the Sahara they occupied and demanding a separate state they named Azawad. The epicentre of Tuareg resistance lay in a mountainous region known as the Adrar des Ifoghas, about 1,000 miles from Bamako, close to the border with Algeria.

  Several other insurgent groups with different objectives were active in northern Mali. They included two homegrown Islamist groups, Ansar Dine and Mujao (Movement for Oneness and Jihad in West Africa) which aimed to impose sharia law across the whole of Mali. Northern Mali was also used as a base by armed remnants from the insurgency in Algeria which had adopted the name Al-Qa’eda in the Islamic Maghreb (AQIM) in 2007, hoping to gain funding and credibility. AQIM specialised in kidnapping foreigners for ransom and trafficking arms, vehicles, cigarettes and drugs.

  In January 2012, Tuareg rebels belonging to the National Movement for the Liberation of Azawad (NMLA) launched a new offensive against the Bamako government, joining forces with Ansar Dine and AQIM. The rebel advance precipitated an army mutiny at a barracks near Bamako followed by a junior officers’ coup that left Bamako in disarray. Taking advantage of the chaos, rebel groups gained control over most of norther
n Mali including the ancient cities of Timbuktu and Gao. The NMLA duly announced that it had secured all the territory it wanted and declared independence from Mali.

  But the rebel alliance soon fell apart. Hoisting the black flag of al-Qa’eda, the jihadists rapidly enforced sharia law, arresting men for smoking, demanding women veil their faces, closing nightclubs, banning music, inflicting harsh punishments, at every turn alienating the local population accustomed to the tolerant practices of Sufi Islam. ‘They have imposed a kind of religion on us we have never seen,’ a Timbuktu merchant told journalists after fleeing the town. ‘You can’t even walk with your wife. We’re like prisoners.’ A renowned Malian singer, Khaira Arby, known as ‘the Nightingale of the North’, was forced to flee from her home in Timbuktu after Ansar Dine threatened to cut out her tongue. ‘We do not want Satan’s music,’ a spokesman explained.

  In June, the jihadists turned on Tuareg separatists, driving them out of Timbuktu, Gao and Kidal. Using picks and shovels, they wrecked the tombs and mausoleums of several venerated Sufi saints, claiming they were ‘idolatrous’, and smashed the sacred door of the fifteenth-century Sidi Yahia mosque. Fearing for the fate of thousands of rare manuscripts and books held in government libraries and in private collections, many dating back to the medieval era, local custodians and scholars began to ferry them surreptitiously to hiding places, often at great risk.

  When jihadists advanced into southern Mali in January 2013, France came to the rescue of the Bamako regime, sending forces to crush the northern insurrection. As French troops approached Timbuktu, in a last act of vandalism, jihadists set fire to the Ahmed Baba Institute, a library and research centre named after a seventeenth-century scholar, housing some 20,000 ancient texts. Timbuktu lost several thousand documents during the insurrection but the vast bulk of its heritage was preserved through the courage of local citizens.