For interested readers: Johns Hopkins University’s School of Advanced International Studies, located in Washington, DC, will host a conference entitled “Strategies for Economic Reconstruction in the Northern States of Nigeria” on April 7-8 (tomorrow and Friday). Notable speakers include Prof. Attahiru Jega, former Chairman of the Independent National Electoral Commission, as well as numerous other Nigerian and American scholars and practitioners. The conveners ask that anyone interested in attending RSVP to email@example.com. I’ve attached the conference program here.
[This is a guest post from Ibrahim Yahya Ibrahim, a Research Associate with the Sahel Research Group and a PhD candidate in the Department of Political Science at the University of Florida. – Alex]
Continuous Political Tension
On February 21st, Nigeriens voted massively – 67% of registered voters cast their vote – in a ballot that turned out to be Niger’s most controversial election in recent history. Hama Amadou, one of the major contenders, was in prison throughout the electoral process, accused of involvement in a baby trafficking scandal. Given the multiple allegations of electoral fraud, not to mention the boycott of the run-off election on March 20th and the subsequent rejection of the election results by the opposition, the 2016 election appears as a missed opportunity for Nigeriens to resolve in a peaceful and institutional manner the ever-growing political tensions that seem to herald yet another cycle of political instability.
Figure 1: Voters waiting to cast their ballot on February 21st.
It is worth mentioning that Niger is a country with a long history of political instability. The most recent episode started in August of 2013 when President Issoufou, in reaction to a deteriorating climate within the ruling coalition, and threatened with losing the majority in the National Assembly, suggested the formation of a government of national unity, which he invited the main opposition parties to join. But, drawn by the prospect of creating a new coalition that could impose a regime of cohabitation – where Issoufou would remain President while the opposition took control over the government – the opposition decided to decline the offer. A climate of disdain and mistrust emerged between the two camps, each one seeing only conspiracy and sabotage in the other’s actions. In a last-minute struggle, the government managed to divide the opposition coalition and extracted crucial support from opposition breakaways, so that it maintained its parliamentary majority and remained in power.
Following this power struggle, Issoufou’s government adopted an uncompromising stance vis-à-vis the opposition on various issues related to the organization of elections, the so-called crushing of the opposition parties, and the arrest and imprisonment of opposition leaders. In reaction to this rigid and aggressive approach the opposition also adopted an increasingly confrontational attitude that often included the incitation to civil disobedience and fanning of ethnic resentment.
This political tension raised the stakes of the 2016 election. It appears, in fact, as if Niger’s aging political elites, viewing the end of their political careers approaching, have become more aggressive in their fight to conquer or hold on to political power. The growing animosity among the elite contributed to the radicalization of campaign discourse, and pushed the protagonists to use all means possible, including non-conventional ones, in order to secure victory. Resorting to ethno-regionalist arguments to mobilize voters as well as the organization of electoral fraud that included underage voting, vote buying, and rigging of election results, were but some of the radical strategies that politicians on both sides used in order to garner votes.
The perspective of a run-off between Issoufou Mahamadou and Hama Amadou – respectively winners of 48% and 17% of the vote in the first round – temporarily allowed for some relaxation of tension. But on March 17th the coalition of the Opposition for Change in 2016 (Copa 2016) declared that they would “withdraw” from the ongoing electoral process, and called on their supporters to boycott the run-off ballot on March 20th. They took this radical position following the Constitutional Court’s validation of what they deemed the fraudulent results of the first round of the elections. Whether this stance is interpreted as the attitude of “ sore losers,” or the only recourse available to victims of fraud, the boycott announcement certainly set the stage for contestation and a post-election struggle.
The “Coup K.O.” Controversy
One of the major issues of the 2016 election was the controversy around President Issoufou’s campaign slogan of “Coup K.O.” – “knockout” in English – meaning his expectation of an undisputed victory in the first round. Throughout the electoral campaign, Issoufou’s partisans asserted he would win the first round. They pointed out that Issoufou was able to win 36% of the vote in the first round of the 2011 presidential election, and that this came to pass despite fifteen years spent in the opposition (1995 – 2011) and at a time when he was running as the candidate of only his party, the PNDS Tarayya. Now that he was running on behalf of a coalition of 44 parties, and after governing the country for five years and successfully implementing his “Renaissance Niger” program, it was very realistic to forecast his reelection in the first round.
The Coalition of the Opposition for Change (Copa 2016), composed of 17 political parties including Hama Amadou’s Moden FA Lumana Africa, and Seyni Oumarou’s MNSD Nassara viewed the Coup K.O. slogan as “unrealistic and even provocative.” They argued that given Niger’s pluralistic and highly fragmented political party system, no presidential candidate has ever won the elections in the first round, except for Ibrahim Mainassara Baré’s fraudulent victory in 1996. From their perspective, the Coup K.O. slogan was nothing more than a pledge to another electoral fraud, which would only result in chaos for the country.
Figure 2: Coup K.O caricature portraying Issoufou Mahamdou knocking out Niger. Published by the pro-opposition newspaper, Monde d’Aujourdh’hui.
The Coup K.O. slogan thus contributed to exacerbating an already tense political climate between the opposition and the government. The electoral campaign was in fact marked by a series of arrests of members of the oppositions, clashes between the police and partisans of Hama Amadou, and an unprecedented level of verbal violence, particularly on social media. Two days before the elections, Amadou Boubacar Cisse, the spokesperson of Copa 2016, declared that his coalition would reject any result that gave Issoufou the victory in the first round.
Voter Mobilization and the Revival of Ethno-Regionalism
In Niger, political ideology has never been a relevant factor of political mobilization. Party affiliation, however, used to be strong, but is now in decline in favor of sympathy towards, and personal connections with, political candidates. In the absence of these two factors, ethno-regionalist feeling has emerged as one of the most effective means for political mobilization. Political parties’ strongholds correspond, in fact, to the region or city of origin of candidates. Thus in the 2016 elections major candidates such as Mahamane Ousmane, Issoufou Mahamadou, Ibrahim Yacouba, and Hama Amadou each won over 50% of the votes in their region of origin, respectively Zinder, Tahoua, Doutchi and Niamey. This preference is partly based on clientelistic incentives, such as voters’ expectation that their chance of gaining privileged access to state resources is greater if people from their region or ethnic group hold power.
In this election, ethno-regionalism was enhanced by a feeling of empathy vis-à-vis certain candidates who were deemed victims of harassment by the government. Candidates such as Hama Amadou, who ran his campaign from prison, and Mahamane Ousmane, who was ousted from his own CDS Rahama party, largely benefitted from voters’ empathy in their respective fiefdoms. In Zinder, Mahamane Ousmane’s supporters prominently used Hausa proverbs that evoke social obligations to lend support to a victimized relative or friend: naka naka ne komin lalacewarshi (“yours is yours no matter how bad he is; if you reject yours, then who will love/support him?”) or ranar takaici kai ya cire (Anger must be expressed regardless of the consequences), or also Ba aro ba haya, yaw aikin gidanmu muke yi (“No loan no rent, now we are working for our own.”) In their local meaning and contexts, these proverbs convey a sort of ethno-regional chauvinism that had hitherto been latent and in decline.
Ethno-regionalism, however, seems to have been more prevalent in the presidential than in the legislative elections. Regarding the latter, local relations of reciprocity such as attending neighbors’ social ceremonies, helping out people in need, generosity, and other such valued personal traits, tended to override the ethno-regionalist considerations. Thus for example in Zinder, a city that is overwhelmingly Hausa and known for its communitarian support for Mahamane Ousmane, there was nevertheless a strong enthusiasm for ethnically Zarma legislative candidates from Dosso and Tillabery.
Remarkably, religion did not play a significant role in the campaign, except for a few references to the anti-Charlie Hebdo riots that struck the country in January 2015. Religious leaders’ activism in the electoral process was limited to invocations and appeals for peaceful elections. Despite the unprecedented rise of political Islam in the region, it is quite surprising that no religious-based movement similar to the Malian Sabati 2012 or the Mauritanian Tawassoul arose in Niger. Perhaps the popular view of politics as dirty and ungodly, together with the Nigerien government’s assertive management of the religious sphere, have created an unfavorable context for religious leaders to develop political ambitions.
Although the elections took place peacefully and on a globally satisfactory note from the point of view of international observers, there have also been reports of several types of fraud that included underage voting, rigging of election results, and vote buying. While vote buying has remained an effective political tool in Nigerien elections, particularly in rural areas, its effectiveness was in fact declining, as voters had become increasingly aware that, given the way the electoral system operates, they can actually accept money and still vote for the candidate of their choice. But given the high stakes of this election, vote-buyers proved more persuasive, raising the offered amount to a level never reached before in order to try to ensure the voters’ full loyalty. The “cost” of a vote has thus varied significantly. While some people in Zinder apparently accepted to sell their vote in exchange for small amounts of cash – between 1,000 and 2,000 CFA (about $2 to $4) – or for small items such as soap, in Maradi, a closely-contested town, the cost of vote saw an unprecedented inflation, reaching up to 10,000 CFA (about $20) per vote, or a bag of rice.
In other instances, party brokers collected voters’ cards from owners, or managed to get the non-distributed ones from village chiefs or districts leaders, and then re-distributed these to their supporters with ready-made ID cards that allowed them to vote again. This is a preferred procedure for vote buying because the buyers are certain to get the vote. Some people voted several times with different voters and ID cards. In Niamey, another closely contested city, credible information reported people selling their voter cards for up to 20,000 CFA ($40).
Although, the accusations of fraud have been usually directed toward the government, the use of fraudulent practices by all political parties, especially vote-buying, had been in fact more a matter of degree and resources. Many legislative candidates and political brokers from both the ruling and the opposition parties resorted to these strategies in order to garner votes.
A Contested Victory
On March 22nd, the electoral commission announced the results of the run-off. Issoufou Mahamadou came out victorious, winning 92% of the votes. This margin of victory was not surprising, given that the opposition had boycotted the ballot. What was surprising, however, was the 59% participation rate, which contrasts with the low turnout reported by many observers, at least in most urban areas. In a press conference organized on the same day, the Coalition of the Opposition for Change in 2016 reiterated its rejection of the electoral process, as well as of all of the institutions that will result from it. It further declared that it would consider Issoufou’s regime illegitimate starting from April 2nd, the day when Issoufou’s first term comes to an end. Beyond this outcry, the only solution that the Copa 2016 proposes is calling on the international community to help establish a transitional government that will organize new elections. It goes without saying that a transitional government is not on the government’s current agenda. Moreover, in his short victory speech, Issoufou Mahamadou focused on national unity and social cohesion as the only solution to the current crisis. He called upon Nigeriens “to come together, to not waste energy in vain quarrels, to unite in order to construct the nation.”
It is clear that at this moment, government and opposition sit on separate tables and that the gap between their respective proposed solutions is wide. Although a promising diplomatic effort to bring the two parties to the negotiating table is ongoing, for those who hoped to see in these elections the proof of Niger’s democratic maturity, the 2016 elections were a source of great disappointment.
I’ve published a paper with the Brookings Project on U.S. Relations with the Islamic World, entitled “‘The Disease Is Unbelief’: Boko Haram’s Religious and Political Worldview.” It deals with the Boko Haram crisis, which has caused untold damage in northeastern Nigeria and surrounding regions over the past six years and more. The paper’s title derives from a video where Boko Haram’s (deceased?) leader, Abubakar Shekau, responded to former Nigerian President Goodluck Jonathan’s denunciation of Boko Haram as a “cancer.”
The paper is the length of a journal article, so I won’t say too much to summarize it here. I do want to emphasize that it’s an attempt to take Boko Haram’s religious discourses seriously: not to excuse those messages or the violence, of course, but to try to understand them and even to give the group’s ideology *some* analytical weight in the quest for an explanation of the violence.
That latter proposition has proven controversial for some audiences and colleagues I’ve encountered. For some, the idea that armed groups might actually believe what they say they believe is anathema. Many analysts view jihadist leaders as either psychopaths or opportunists, and their followers as either dupes or victims. Certainly there is reason to feel that way, especially when there is evidence that leaders are hypocritical, power-hungry, etc, or that followers have been coerced. But people are not simple and it is possible that even if a leader is a hypocrite or an opportunist, it’s still worth paying attention to what he says, because it might give hints as to why a group behaves the way it does. Moreover, if jihadists were all mere opportunists or psychopaths, why would they develop such systematic and detailed ideologies?
So the paper tries to get at some of those questions. I doubt that it will convince those who believe material forces are the sole determinants of the violence. But if you’re interested, I go through various official statements from Boko Haram and discuss the remarkable consistency in their messages from circa 2008 (and probably before) to the present, and show that a core combination of religious exclusivism and perceived victimhood has underlain many of their other ideas, including their rejection of Western-style education.
If you do read the paper, I welcome your thoughts, suggestions, and criticisms here. I will be continuing to work on this topic, and your feedback will help me refine my thinking and research.
[Today’s guest post is by Ibrahim Yahaya Ibrahim, a Ph.D. candidate in Political Science at the University of Florida. He has conducted extensive research in and on the Sahel, and especially on Mauritania and Niger. – Alex]
The celebration of Niger Republic’s birthday used to be a solemn occasion where Nigeriens rejoiced in communion over their “unyielding progress” toward the achievement of national unity and renaissance. This year’s celebration, however, came with sad breaking news: President Issoufou Mahamadou announced in his traditional Address to the Nation that his government had foiled a coup attempt that was supposed to happen on the anniversary day. His announcement came five days after the government conducted a series of arrests that targeted nine high-ranking military officers, including the former Chief of Army Staff, General Salou Souleymane, and the Air Force commander Colonel Dan Haoua. All this happened against the backdrop of heightened social and political tensions related to the arrest of the former President of the National Assembly, Hama Amadou, as well as the contentions surrounding the organization of the 2016 presidential, legislative and district elections, and the fight against Boko Haram.
Niger is known for its history of political instability and recurring military coups. Since the democratization process started in 1992, the country has experienced three military coups, including the last one in 2010. Recently, rumors of another coup have intensified in the country, reflecting the sour political climate that originated from the breakup of the ruling coalition in the late 2013. In brief, President Issoufou’s announcement was not totally unanticipated. But it raises numerous unanswered questions that animate passionate discussions in the fadas, and social media in Niger. One of these questions concerns the credibility of the allegations, whether there was really a coup attempt or whether this is yet another strategy by Niger’s government to divert public attention from crucial challenges that are facing the country while at the same time justifying crackdowns on the political opposition.
Only a few details have so far emerged regarding this alleged coup attempt, but in light of the recent developments, each of these hypotheses can be plausible. On the one hand, there are reasons to believe that a coup might be attempted given the high level of social and political tensions in a country where military coups have often been the ultimate solution to political crises. Yet on the other hand, recent developments in the region might discourage would-be coup makers. If anything, the lesson learned from Sanogo and Diendere’s misfortunes in Mali and Burkina Faso, respectively, is that the period of military coups in the region is becoming outdated. Many Nigeriens are asking how such credible military officers as those arrested in this coup plot might have failed to learn this lesson. Could such officers really have thought they could get away with a coup in such unfavorable circumstances? Many Nigeriens simply do not believe the coup narrative.
The current political tensions started in August 2013, when in response to the deteriorating relationship within the ruling coalition, Issoufou’s government started broad consultations with the opposition parties in order to create a government of national unity. After several months of negotiations, the initiative failed at the last minute. As a result, and in order to prevent losing the majority in the National Assembly, which would result in a tumultuous Cohabitation, Issoufou’s government resorted to extracting allies from within the opposition parties, in complete disregard for the hostility of the parties’ leadership. This strategy produced profound divisions within the opposition parties leading to the breakup of the major ones, including MNSD Nassara, Moden FA Lumana Africa, and CDS Rahama – into pro and anti government factions. Since then, the so-called “crushing of opposition parties” (le concassage des partie de l’opposition in French) resulted in a growing animosity between the government and the opposition.
Hama Amadou – leader of Moden FA Lumana Africa – initially member of the ruling coalition and President of the National Assembly, decided to leave the coalition in favor of the opposition. But soon after he shifted sides, his name appeared in the heavily mediatized baby trafficking “scandal,” where he was accused of illegally claiming the parenthood of two babies that were allegedly “bought” in neighboring Nigeria. He fled the country to avoid arrest and sought asylum in France, where he positioned himself as a radical opponent to President Issoufou and potentially the major challenger of the incumbent President in the upcoming elections. Hama returned to Niger on November 5th 2015, after spending more than a year in exile, and following his nomination as presidential candidate on behalf of his party, the Moden FA Lumana. His party, which enjoys strong support in the capital city Niamey, mobilized thousands of supporters to welcome him at the airport. But the crowd was violently dispersed by the police, and Hama was arrested at the airport and immediately transferred to prison in Filingue, a small town located at around 180km northeast of Niamey.
The arrest of Hama heightened the already tense political climate, and quite importantly, it also generated an unprecedented level of ethnic tension in Niamey. Hama and his followers have often used ethnic arguments in their struggle with Issoufou’s government. Many of their statements suggest that Hama, who is Zarma (the second largest ethnic group in Niger representing 22% of the population) is victim of an ethnic adversity orchestrated by Issoufou’s government allegedly dominated by Hausa (the largest ethnic group, representing 52% of the population). Hama’s supporters in the diaspora have contributed to the heightening of the ethnic tensions in Niamey. One of his strong supporters based in New York published videos on youtube and Facebook in which he call Hama’s supporters to engage in violence to protect their leader. The videos created an outcry particularly after the violence that occurred upon Hama’s return from exile. Ethnicity has been less of an issue in Nigerien politics when compared to other African countries. All the major political parties have rallied significant support across ethnic groups. The ethnic discourse becomes salient when elections approach. During their campaign, for instance, political leaders sometimes use ethnic argument to mobilize support.
Current and Upcoming Developments
2016 is an election year in Niger. The first round of the presidential and legislation elections are scheduled to happen on February 21st. The opposition has expressed grievances regarding the organization of the elections, demanding particularly an international audit of the electoral list, the removal of the President of the Constitutional Court, whom they accuse of partiality given her personal acquaintance with President Issoufou, and finally the rescheduling of the district elections. The main opposition parties have threatened to boycott the elections if these demands are not satisfied. But the absence of direct dialog between the two parties has made it difficult to reach to a negotiated settlement of the issues. The National Council for Political Dialog (Conseil National de Dialogue Politique in French), the traditional venue through which government and opposition discuss and settle political matters has been dysfunctional, constantly boycotted by the opposition.
These tensions are exacerbated by the further deteriorating security situation in the region of Diffa where the military is trying more or less successfully to defend the border from Boko Haram’s recurrent assaults. The government has often used this tense security context as a pretext to justify restrictions on civil liberties. Until recently, in fact, the local authorities have systematically rejected all requests for protests authorization, and have violently dispersed all demonstrations organized by the opposition and the civil society under the pretext of preventing further destabilization of the country. Prominent civil society actors were arrested and accused of complicity with Boko Haram after they denounced violence allegedly committed by the army on local population in the conflict zones in Diffa.
Given all these tensions, and particularly following the recent altercation between Hama Amadou and Issoufou’s government, rumors of an imminent military coups became a major topic of discussion in Niamey. Hama is suspected to have acquaintances with certain influential officers in the army, and every time that he seems in trouble with the government, rumors of an imminent military coup come to surface. This was notably the case in 2008-9 when he was jailed by Tandja’s regime, and in 2014-15 during and upon his return from exile. In the same way that the crisis during Tandja’s regime led to the 2010 military coup, many would suspect that history might repeat itself once again.
Yet, despite these tensions, the current circumstances are far more unfavorable to a military coup in comparison to the 2010 context. First, although there is an increasing social and political tension in Niamey as the result of the arrest of Hama Amadou, the “crushing” of the opposition parties, and the restrictions on civil liberties, the tension has not yet reached the point where it can credibly and legitimately justify a coup, let alone to earn it the broad popular support that it needs in order to succeed. Historically, military coups happen in Niger under the conditions of a complete paralysis of the government or a serious threat to the survival of democracy, as it was the case during Tandja’s Tazarce. None of these seem to be the case in the current situation in Niger. Thus, if this alleged coup is real, then it would be the first of its nature, where the military attempts to overthrow a regime that despite major shortages remains democratic and legitimate.
Second, recent developments in the region, particularly the failed coup attempts in Mali and Burkina Faso, are not very encouraging to potential putschists. Both local populations and the international community appear less and less willing to tolerate the reckless military eruptions in politics. This might be even more so in the current situation in Niger where the likely scenario – would the coup attempt succeed – looks like a déjà vu: a country that is two months away from general elections, more or less successful in keeping the jihadist assault on its periphery, and all of the sudden a military coup occurred in the capital city, the state collapse opening widely the doors to the jihadist to conquer and occupy large portions of the territory… The last time this scenario happened was in Mali in 2012, and the consequences were so terrifying that neither the Nigerien population nor the international community would dare to accept such a risk.
Third, President Issoufou enjoys strong international support due to the focal role that he plays in the struggle against the spread of jihadism in the Sahelo-Saharan region. Niger is viewed as a crucial fortress that prevents the reunion of Saharan jihadist groups operating in Libya, Mali, and Algeria with the sub-Sahara African jihadists, notably Boko Haram operating in the Lake Chad area. Reinforcing this strategic position was certainly part of the reason why France and the US have deployed drone and military bases in Niger. One could bet that neither France nor the US would allow the destabilization of their major ally in the region, even if that would necessitate the intervention of their military forces stationed in Niamey. Moreover, foreign military intervention to save an allied regime in difficulty is not a new practice as suggested by the French military support to Idris Deby’s regime in the 2006 foiled coup attempt in Chad.
For all these reason a military coup is unlikely to succeed in Niger in the current context. One would assume that no one knows this reality better than the military officers who are arrested in this alleged coup plot. Did these officers really conspire to overthrow Issoufou’s regime? Currently the information beforehand is inconclusive, as only the government side of the story is known. The following days and the ongoing investigations will certainly tell us more.
On November 20, a team of gunmen stormed the Radisson Blu hotel in Mali’s capital Bamako, taking hostages and killing twenty people. The tragedy reflects the complex aftermath of Mali’s 2012-2013 civil war, which was centered in the northern part of the country, but which has left in its wake a nationwide terrorism problem.
There has been much helpful commentary on the attack, and there has been some unhelpful commentary. In the latter category is a piece published on the Washington Post’s Monkey Cage blog, entitled “After this month’s attack in Bamako, what do we know about fundamentalist Islam in Mali?” The author, a University of Florida political scientist named Sebastian Elischer, unfairly links some non-violent Malian Muslim political activists to terrorism. By “fundamentalism,” Elischer means Salafism, a literalist form of Sunni Islam.
Elischer’s argument is politically dangerous. He writes in the context of a wider environment in which many observers assume that Salafism, a theological position, predisposes its adherents to jihadism, a form of violent politics. This assumption is wrong: as Jacob Olidort has pointed out, if the hundreds of thousands of non-violent Salafis around the world “were involved in forming political parties or in direct violent activity, the world would look very different” (p. 4, footnote 1).
The fact that the majority of Salafis reject jihadism has been largely ignored amid the media’s and the terror-ology industry’s constant equations of Muslim activism with violence. This environment makes it easy for various governments to justify crackdowns against a wide swath of activists, regardless of whether or not they are involved in violent jihad. This environment also distorts Western policymakers’ understandings of the roots of jihadism and terrorism. The current and naïve framework of “countering violent extremism” has yielded many failures, and these failures stem in part from the assumption that the “wrong beliefs” are the main factor in people’s embrace of violence.
Elischer, of course, denies that he is engaging in guilt by association. But listen to the language he uses:
The political Salafists in Bamako are not behind the recent attacks on the Radisson. But they provide an ideology that opposes democracy and secularism — two major achievements of Mali’s political trajectory in the past two decades. Nonetheless, the international community should note that the forces seeking to destabilize Mali are not just isolated in far-flung northern regions but are actually not that far from the presidential palace.
Let us pause briefly here to ask how one ought to explain the Radisson Blu attack. First, one should start by elaborating the histories and agendas of the groups that have claimed responsibility and have previously been involved in violence. One should then contextualize these groups’ violence within the broader history of politics and conflict in Mali during the colonial and post-colonial periods, with particular emphasis on the period 2011-present. One should also make appropriate reference to how the aftermath of Algeria’s “Black Decade” of the 1990s has affected Mali, especially in terms of the spillover of Algerian-led jihadist groups into northern Mali and their long-term efforts to implant themselves in local communities there. In his effort to link southern Salafis to terrorism, Elischer skims over or neglects the relevant history.
The villain in Elischer’s piece is Mahmoud Dicko, a southern Salafi cleric who serves as president of Mali’s High Islamic Council. Dicko is a major Malian public figure who is, by all accounts, uninvolved in jihadist activity – and who has publicly condemned the Radisson attack. In Elischer’s eyes, however, Dicko’s political activities are anti-democratic and “destabilizing.”
Dicko is not going to be any Western policymaker, academic, or human rights activist’s ideal of a “moderate Muslim.” Dicko linked the Radisson attack, for example, to what he calls the Western world’s “promotion of homosexuality.” Dicko envisions and works toward a Mali that is religiously and socially conservative.
But are Dicko’s actions anti-democratic? Elischer writes that Dicko and his camp seek “to impose fundamentalist Islamic beliefs on society by asserting a role in the political sphere.” Doesn’t everyone who participates in politics seek to impose some kind of belief system on their society? In a U.S. context, I want everyone to have free medical care, housing, and a minimum income – and if I can help get politicians elected who support those views, then I am willing to have that system “imposed” on voters who disagree with it. That’s how politics works: even in a democracy, some people don’t get their way.
The issue raised by people like Dicko is what happens when democratic contexts coincide with mobilization in the name of illiberal values. What happens, in other words, when a group of Malian Muslims mobilizes to protest a family code that would give greater rights to women, as happened in 2009? Dicko helped lead a campaign that pressured former President Amadou Toumani Toure to back down and amend the proposed code in a more conservative direction, in line with the wishes of Dicko and others. Such changes, however, were accomplished without significant violence. Arguably, that’s just democracy in action – but for Elischer, all of Dicko’s political actions constitute an inappropriate fusion of religion and politics, a form of “intimidation” against the government, and/or a nefarious “influence” over elected officials and civil servants.
Worth adding, too, is that Dicko is not the only proponent of social conservatism in Mali. Does anyone think that Sufi shaykhs in Mali, or post-Sufi media stars like Shaykh Cherif Haidara, are going to be lining up to advocate for the rights of homosexuals in Mali? Dicko and the Salafis, after all, were far from the only voices arguing against the more liberal family code. And if we’re talking about threats to democracy in Mali, then surely the politicians who steal public money, the junior army officers who staged a coup in 2012, to say nothing of the northern jihadists and separatists, deserve some mention. With secularism, finally, one might ask whether Mali must remain beholden to the version of secularism it inherited from France, or whether the country’s vast Muslim majority has some right to reimagine the relationship of religion and politics in their country.
Elischer’s own orientation, ironically, is nakedly anti-liberal. In his recent article for African Affairs, he suggests that the state of Islamic affairs was better in Sahelian countries like Niger during the 1970s and 1980s, when an alliance of military rulers and Sufi shaykhs could more tightly regulate the religious sphere. Elischer implies that the free of exchange of ideas – allowing Salafis to compete for political and social influence – is inherently dangerous and “destabilizing.” Some societies, we hear, need top-down control and a class of state-appointed “good Muslims” to keep the “bad Muslims” in check.
The ultimate problem with Elischer’s analysis of Salafism is this implicit “good Muslim, bad Muslim” dichotomy. His approach to Salafism is too simple. In his Monkey Cage piece and elsewhere, he relies on an outdated typology of Salafis from 2006, which classifies Salafis into “purists/quietists” (allegedly apolitical preachers oriented toward moral reform), “politicos” (politically engaged preachers), and “jihadis.” As I told Elischer in person at the fall 2015 meeting of the American Political Science Association, recent work has challenged this typology, showing that “purists” participate in politics, that “jihadis” can be “quietists,” and that it’s tricky to assess how theology might inform violence.
Nevertheless, the tripartite typology persists. Elischer invokes it to suggest that Salafis exist along a spectrum from quietism to jihadism, and that the more they participate in politics, the closer they move to jihadism. The case of Dicko should show why that’s too simple: Dicko participates in politics a lot, but he condemns jihadism and in no way seems to be veering toward terrorism. For Elischer and others who are suspicious of all Salafis, however, Salafis’ political behavior will always be interpreted as inherently suspect. In this worldview, other actors participate in politics with integrity, but the Salafis enter politics with the end goal of undermining democracy. If one holds Salafis to be inherently anti-democratic, then they can never prove their democratic bonafides – they will always be asked to defend themselves from the claim that they are potential terrorists.
In this, Elischer’s analysis echoes a wider claim echoed across various media outlets. It is not just Salafis, but all Muslims, who face intensive scrutiny about their relationship to violence. I commend Omid Safi’s question to the reader, “I wonder what [that relentless scrutiny] says about our preconceived notion of a majority of Muslims worldwide secretly being complicit regardless of what they do, regardless of what they say, and regardless of how many of their leading scholars, imams, and experts are denouncing the practices of ISIS” – or any terrorist group.
Returning to Mali, how are policymakers supposed to act on Elischer’s analysis? The “international community” is supposed to “note” the “destabilizing” influence of Dicko and other Salafis in southern Mali. Then what? Demand that Malian politicians repudiate Dicko? Seek to influence elections to the High Islamic Council? Advocate for the arrest of non-violent Salafi preachers? Elevate Sufi Muslims and empower them to marginalize Salafis within Malian institutions and public life? Would any of those actions make it less likely that jihadist groups would storm hotels in Bamako? Or would this kind of suspicion of non-violent Salafis make it even harder to resolve Mali’s many interlocking crises?
Analysts and policymakers desperately need more complicated maps of the religious and political terrain of the Sahel. Nearly a decade into my thinking about the region, I realize how little I understand. But I do believe that “good Muslim/bad Muslim” dichotomies serve everyone poorly, and can have dangerous and unintended consequences when applied in policy.
[This guest post is part of a series on Burkina Faso’s 2015 Elections. My colleague Daniel Eizenga, a Research Associate with the Sahel Research Group and Ph.D. candidate in Political Science at the University of Florida, has been based in Burkina Faso’s capital Ouagadougou since August 2015 conducting dissertation research. He has generously offered to share his observations from the ground as the elections take place. Readers and journalists may contact Dan at: deizenga at ufl dot edu. – Alex]
Date: Wednesday, December 2, 2015 at 8:33 AM UTC
On Sunday, November 29th somewhere close to sixty percent of registered voters cast their ballots in Burkina Faso’s presidential and legislative elections. Reports from around the country, and in the international media praised the free, fair, transparent and peaceful electoral process. While the results of the legislative elections are still being tallied, just after midnight on the 1st of December the Commission Electorale Nationale Indépendante (CENI) announced that the preliminary results gave Roch Marc Christian Kaboré of the Mouvement du Peuple pour le Progrès (MPP) just over 53 percent of the votes cast in the presidential poll.
Kaboré avoided heading to a runoff election by securing a majority, catching a number of analysts both Burkinabè and international, myself included, by surprise. Most of those following the election assumed a second round would need to take place between Kaboré and his closest rival the Union pour le Progrès et le Changement’s (UPC) candidate, Zéphirin Diabré. Even more surprising is how effectively the MPP won its majority. Diabré received slightly less than thirty percent of the vote according to the CENI and some quick electoral math demonstrates that the UPC trailed the MPP by a large margin—more than 23 points.
Out of the twelve other presidential candidates the next largest percentage—just over three percent—went to Tahirou Barry, a young lawyer who entered the political circuit following the popular insurrection of October 2014. Longtime Compoaré-opponent and leader of the Union pour le Renaissance – Parti Sankariste, Bénéwendé Sankara, fell to fourth place, winning just under three percent. No other candidate received more than two percent of the vote. Prior to the elections many people guessed that these would be the top four candidates, but few assumed that the large pool of presidential hopefuls would hurt the UPC more than the MPP. Hindsight, it seems, remains 20/20.
As I mentioned in my previous post, the MPP is composed almost entirely of former CDP members. The CDP is the former ruling party which was barred from presenting a presidential candidate in this election because it supported former president Blaise Compaoré’s attempt to modify the constitution to remain in power. When the MPP leadership resigned from the CDP in early 2014, alongside some 75 other CDP members, they brought significant human and financial resources with them. Fast-forward through the popular insurrection which forced Compaoré to resign and the subsequent political transition during which the CDP lost a significant amount of its political influence, and it becomes clear that the MPP became the logical home for many politicians jumping ship from the sinking CDP. Since the CDP permeated the entire country under Compaoré, the ability of the MPP to incorporate even a portion of the CDP’s network meant it held a strong advantage nationally over the other parties.
The leaders of the MPP held another important factor for winning the vote in the countryside: political recognition. Kaboré, as a member of the CDP and during Blaise Compaoré’s tenure as president, held the positions of Prime Minister, President of the National Assembly and more recently the President of the CDP. As a neighbor of mine explained, “For those in the countryside who spent their entire lives voting for Blaise, the change to Kaboré makes sense because they already know him. He was with Blaise. As Zéph[irin Diabré] said, a vote for Kaboré is a vote for continuity through change.” While my neighbor is not entirely unbiased, her point, I think, is valid. Since its leaders previously held several government positions, the MPP successfully campaigned on its ability to run the country and maintain stability. For those in the countryside with little interest in the politics of Ouaga, a vote for Roch was the closest option to a vote for Blaise.
Still, the MPP will face some immediate and long-term challenges now that its fight for the presidential palace is coming to a close. Many of their specific policy proposals such as creating teaching positions for all unemployed persons holding a certain level of education, are targeted at ameliorating rampant unemployment, especially amongst the growing population of urban youth. These policies will take time to implement and will undoubtedly face challenges along the way. Consequently, the ability of the MPP to appease the immediate demands of an urban youth which now has the experience of creating political change by taking to the streets, will be paramount in the next few months and years. It’s not difficult to imagine a scenario in which Kaboré and his MPP co-leaders’ past connections to the former regime quickly transform into a political liability in eyes of an urban youth movement.
Another challenge will be the ability of the MPP to organize an effective government and form productive coalitions at the Nation Assembly. Thanks to a massive effort from the CENI and the additional hi-tech observation of an informed and active civil society, the electoral process advanced without significant irregularities giving Burkina Faso, arguably, the best organized elections in its history. In light of this, nearly all of the presidential candidates opted for offering their congratulations to MPP and Kaboré rather than contesting the preliminary results. That does not mean, however, that establishing legislative coalitions will proceed as smoothly.
Results for the legislative seats continue to be counted today, but an interesting trend to follow will be the performance of the CDP in the elections. According to local radio station, Omega FM, as of 7 AM this morning preliminary results from the CENI show the CDP to be the third largest party in the National Assembly behind the MPP in the lead and the UPC in second. Importantly, no single political party holds a majority of seats, but there still remains 28 seats for which the preliminary votes have not yet been tallied. A online local media outlet stated the remaining seats belong to the provinces of Kadiogo (Ouagadougou’s province) and Gnagna, as well as the National seats. If the proportion of seats remains the same as the final 28 seats are decided, the role of the CDP will be both important and potentially disruptive in the National Assembly.
The chances of an MPP-CDP legislative alliance appear to be remote, given that the MPP effectively rose to power by undercutting the political support of the CDP. Yet, the two parties share ideological positions, policies, and a political history. Alternatively, the UPC which is the natural leader of an opposition under a MPP majority, previously led the opposition when the CDP was in power and stands to gain very little politically from any kind of cooperation with the CDP. All of a sudden, it seems that every seat counts in a previously lopsided National Assembly.
In its worst possible outcome this could lead to political deadlock featuring votes of no confidence and failed attempts at consensus politics. But in the best potential outcome it could mean the legislature receives more political bargaining power and importance in a political system which has historically been dominated by the executive.
Despite the first round presidential victory for the MPP, these initial legislative results point to an increasingly plural and potentially competitive political system in Burkina Faso. We cannot know for sure until the final counts are in, but in the meantime it’s possible to think that Burkinabè citizens may see both continuity and change in their political future.
[This guest post is part of a series on Burkina Faso’s 2015 Elections. My colleague Daniel Eizenga, a Research Associate with the Sahel Research Group and Ph.D. candidate in Political Science at the University of Florida, has been based in Burkina Faso’s capital Ouagadougou since August 2015 conducting dissertation research. He has generously offered to share his observations from the ground as the elections take place. Readers and journalists may contact Dan at: deizenga at ufl dot edu. – Alex]
Date: Thursday, November 26, 2015 at 4:33 PM UTC
With only a few days left before presidential and legislative elections take place Sunday, 29 November, political campaigns in Burkina Faso are in full swing. So, I thought I’d offer some observations on a few of the big issues confronting political parties, candidates, and voters ahead of Election Day.
There are fourteen candidates making a run for the presidential palace, but most analysts and Burkinabè agree that the two front runners for the presidential election are the Union pour le Progrès et le Changement’s (UPC) Zéphirin Diabré and the Mouvement du Peuple pour le Progrès’s (MPP) Roch Marc Christian Kaboré. Both candidates have been considered the most likely to win since the current transitional government was established in November 2014. Since the official campaign began over two weeks ago, both presidential candidates have gone to great lengths to distance themselves from the former ruling party, the Congrès pour la Démocratie et le Progrès (CDP). Yet in reality, neither party offers much of a change.
The MPP’s strategy relies primarily on touting the fact that the party formed following the massive resignation of former CDP members who stood up to former president Blaise Compaoré’s attempt to remain in power. The subsequent creation of the MPP and its outspoken opposition to another term for Compaoré, helped to insure that it was not excluded from the upcoming elections like other former CDP-supporters and party members. It’s also helped the MPP, a party composed almost entirely of former CDP members, distance themselves from association with the former regime, despite the active role its leaders played in Compaoré’s government for decades.
The three leaders of the MPP—Kaboré, Salif Diallo and Simon Compaoré— are all well-known politicians who worked very closely with the Compaoré regime in which each held at different times leadership positions. In fact in 2010, Kaboré, as the president of the CDP, was one of the first public figures to openly call for Compaoré to modify the constitution and run for another term. And, while in general, it is unpopular to be associated with the former ruling party, it is precisely the MPP’s direct connection to the CDP which is responsible for its potential electoral strength.
After twenty-seven years as the ruling party, the CDP developed a massive network of both human and financial resources. Kaboré, Diallo, and Simon Compaoré, long-time party barons of the CDP, brought much of that resource base with them when they led the resignation movement in January 2014.
In addition to their resource base, the MPP’s leadership also profits from a more intangible political good: their reputation. The leaders of the MPP often publically reference their experience managing the administration of the state and government when comparing themselves to their political opponents. And it’s true that they are amongst the few candidates who can claim to have experience governing the country, but behind these multi-layered references is also a warning to their political foes: join us and reap the rewards, cross us and face the consequences.
When the leaders of the MPP were leaders of the CDP, they were well known for their patronage and in contrast, their retribution. As one Burkinabè businesswoman told me, “The people are scared of the MPP…that’s why no one talks about how close they were with Compaoré. [Kaboré and Diallo] only care about getting their political revenge and they will humiliate anyone in their way.”
It seems that in a slightly ironic twist, the past semi-authoritarian practices of the CDP remain so pervasive in Burkinabè political memory that the MPP leaders can now denounce the former ruling party and simultaneously benefit from the role they played in both its rise to power and its fall from grace.
Meanwhile, the UPC and Diabré continue to trumpet their role as the leader of the political opposition during the last two years of Compaoré’s rule. The party often cites Diabré’s former position as the Chef de File de l’Opposition and his role in organizing and leading demonstrations and protests against Compaoré’s bid to modify the constitution. Following legislative elections in 2012, the UPC won more seats in the National Assembly than any other single opposition party had ever won against the CDP. Yet, the UPC remains a fairly new political party without a long track-record in Burkinabè politics.
Diabré is well known, but prior to 2010 he held the position of Economic Advisor to then president Compaoré. Following his advisory position he accepted an international post with the UNDP and later the French Uranium company AREVA. Many suspect that Diabré’s success internationally can be credited to Compaoré’s personal connections.
Diabré and the UPC were ardent critics of the CDP and Compaoré over the last four years and they helped lead the opposition movement against Compaoré’s attempt to modify the constitution. Nevertheless, they continue to face challenges from other opposition figures because of Diabré’s past connections to the CDP regime.
Perhaps more damaging than his past connections to Compaoré and the CDP, however, are the recent accusations that the CDP joined Coalition Zéph 2015—a coalition of parties and organizations supporting Diabré’s presidential candidacy. The UPC has denounced these rumors on several occasions and Diabré himself disavowed any formal agreement with the CDP. Still, the damage might already be done.
The politics of the situation are such that, however unlikely it might be that the CDP would support the UPC, it’s even more unlikely that the former ruling party would support the MPP. Given that the leaders of the MPP led the massive sortie from the CDP and then actively worked against the former ruling party, most acknowledge that there is no possibility of the political parties cooperating together. As one political activist pointed out to me: “the CDP will never accept an [MPP] victory. [The CDP and its allies] will support anyone other than the MPP for president.”
In light of that common assumption, rumors of a UPC-CDP alliance have gained significant traction during the campaign. Even if no formal agreement is made between the UPC and CDP, it stands to reason that the UPC will receive the CDP’s support, simply because the UPC presents the most viable threat to the MPP. Prior to the fall of the Compaoré regime, it would have been incredibly difficult to imagine that one of the UPC’s supporters would end up being the party it was then in opposition against, but so goes the Burkinabè political circus.
Following the massive rejection of the failed coup in September, one might think the parties and candidates with no past connections to the CDP might have the best chance at winning this coming Sunday, but they’d be mistaken. The probability of a candidate who never collaborated with or profited from the former regime emerging victorious seems slim at best. Partially because the political atmosphere in Burkina Faso remains very divisive and partially because the presidential candidates with no past connections have failed to establish a cohesive coalition of electoral support behind a single candidate.
Some high-profile members of civil society—who protested the authoritarian nature of the Compaoré regime as far back as the late 1990s—have gone so far as to suggest that it may be better not to vote at all. Chrysogone Zougmoré, first vice-president of Coalition nationale de lutte Contre la Vie Chère and leader of the prominent human rights association, Mouvement Burkinabè des Droits de l’Homme et des Peuples, went so far as to state that voting was not compulsory and that those Burkinabè, like himself, who did not feel adequately represented by any of the candidates’ campaigns, would not vote. Other civil society organizations are calling on their supporters to boycott the elections altogether.
Oddly enough, those, like Zougmoré, who will not vote because they feel none of the campaigns offer a viable change from the past regime, might be joined by others who are not voting for an entirely different reason: there is no CDP candidate. Today a die-hard CDP supporter informed me that she will be voting for the CDP in the legislative elections, but plans to cast a blank ballot for the presidential poll.
I regularly meet those who do not support the exclusion of the CDP from the electoral process. For some, they oppose the exclusion because they view it is as anti-democratic in principle, but for many others they oppose it because it bars their ideal candidate from taking part in elections. Thus, in one final twist, it seems those most opposed to the former regime may end up joining those most in support of former ruling party by opting out of the presidential election.
It’s difficult to guess what results these historic elections will produce, but one thing is certain: Burkinabè politics are living up to their reputation for the improbable and unexpected.