COTE D’IVOIRE: THE GENERAL’S NEW CLOTHES
CDD Briefing on a fact-finding trip to la Cote d’Ivoire – April 2000

From its traditionally drab, calm and conservative image Abidjan, the commercial capital of la Côte d’Ivoire, is today a city of frenetic activity and anticipation sparked by General Robert Guéi’s coup of Christmas Eve 1999. In many respects, it has become a city of symbolism. Down Boulevard Giscard d’Estaing, the rank and file of the mutinying Ivorian army demonstrated their anger at the old system by raining bullets on, looting and setting ablaze the offices of the cellular telecommunication company, Ivoiris, owned by the son of just-deposed President Konan Bédié. It was meant to send out an unambiguous message: the army had come to clean up the stables. Not far away, against the perimeter wall surrounding the headquarters of the oldest opposition party, Front Populaire Ivoirien (FPI), lay the charred frame of the car that had once belonged to the party leader, Laurent Gbagbo. The figures 18-02-92, transposed in fading white over the rusting paint work on the passenger side, indicated the day government thugs set the car ablaze. This occurred in the heat of the first multiparty campaign after pro-democracy forces had slightly pried open the closed political space that ex-President, Houphouet Boigny, had presided over since he reluctantly accepted independence from France in 1960. The attack on Laurent Gbagbo was also meant to send out a clear message: Democracy did not mean a licence to threaten the authority and hegemony of the dynasty of the ruling Parti Démocratique de la Côte d’Ivoire(PDCI).

All this changed on 24 December 1999. Or did it?

According to Dr. Assoa Addoux, FPI national secretary for external relations, his party had been operating in semi-clandestinity until 1989, when it became one of the vanguards for the popular movement for multiparty politics. The ailing Houphouet Boigny eventually partially bowed to student and civil society pressure and introduced what Assoux called ‘controlled multipartism without democracy’. The death of Houphouet Boigny in 1993 led to further regression in the move towards an open society. As Boigny’s successor, Konan Bédié, strove to establish his authority on the state party, he meticulously patched up the democratic cracks that civil society had pried open in the last years of the Boigny leadership. In the run-up to what was perhaps the first chance of real multiparty elections in 1995, Bédié made sure the political playing field was returfed in his favour. The voters’ register was doctored with multiple entries, fake ID cards were distributed even as opposition activists were harassed, rendering free and fair elections impossible. The main opposition parties – FPI and Alassane Ouattara’s Rassemblement des Républicains (RDR) – boycotted the elections, which were marred by fraud and violence

Economic Malaise and Politics of Ethnicity

Like in so many instances in the sub-region, the 1995 elections exacerbated the economic situation in the country. The link between the incumbent party winning the elections at all costs and the diversion of national resources towards this end followed the worrying pattern in the sub-region. International financial institutions (the World Bank and the IMF) and other multilateral donor institutions suspended credit facilities to the country as a result of the diversion of CFA18 billion of EU assistance by the authorities. The national coffers were empty as the government struggled to find money to pay civil servants and the nation’s key breadwinners – cocoa and coffee farmers – for their produce. Teachers worked for months without pay. Joined by students, the latter took to the streets. Threats of industrial action by the labour unions threatened to bring the economy to a shuddering halt.

To divert attention from the real problems, the government resorted to xenophobia, blaming the country’s problems on ‘foreigners’ – mainly the large migrant community from the sub-region. Alassane Ouattara, the RDR leader, emerged as the key target of l’Ivoirité – the crusade to ivorianise the country – for a combination of reasons. Firstly, he had emerged as a key political opponent to Konan Bédié and was on course to end the forty-year rule of the PDCI-RDA, come the October 2000 elections. Secondly, he was believed to be the son of Burkinabe immigrants. Finally, he was until recently the deputy secretary-general of the IMF. The government believed that the financial squeeze that the IMF had imposed on the country was nothing less than an elaborate French-IMF plot to replace Bédié with their protégé - Ouattara.

The continuing economic hardships, industrial restlessness and political witch-hunting had all combined to push the country to the brink of mass upheaval. When the rank and file of the army began their mutiny in December 1999 over allowances owed them for peacekeeping operations abroad, the challenges to the state had become ominous. The military revolt culminated in the Christmas Eve coup d’état that swept aside the PDCI-RDA regime and catapulted General Robert Guéi to power.

The coup d’état was hugely popular in la Côte d’Ivoire. The looming threat of socioeconomic paralysis called for radical changes; to many, the coup represented the beginning of that change. Besides, this was the very first successful military take-over in a country that had come to symbolise calm in a turbulent sub-region. The sheer novelty of this move into uncharted territory brought with it an air of fascination. To the ordinary people, this was nothing short of a revolution.

To the supporters of Alassane Ouattara, the putsch was tailor-made for their leader, coming on the heels of concerted state attempts to de-Ivorianise him. The FPI’s position very much reflected views within civil society: the ethnic politics of the PDCI-RDA that saw Ivorians from the north as second-class citizens was a recipe for civil war and the coup prevented that scenario. For various reasons the Ivorian society put its faith and fate in the goodwill of the coup plotters.

Rare in this post-Cold War era, the international community virtually accepted the coup as a fait accompli with only whispers of disapproval. The Centre for Democracy and Development, having followed with concern the general trend of coups in the sub-region, went against the grain of internal Ivorian feelings and unequivocally condemned the coup; and for good reason. All too often, putschists have ridden on the crest of popular dissatisfaction to usurp power only to turn out to be worse than the order they had stepped in to replace. However, with little chance of reversing the coup from within or without, CDD went on to urge political parties and civil society organisations within the country to crank up the pressure on General Guéi to agree to the formation of a broad-based interim administration, whose sole duty would be to create the conducive atmosphere for the return to constitutional rule by October 2000, while the army returned to the barracks.

As was to be expected, the military tried to sing from the same script as civil society in the first weeks of the coup. Among its first moves a 22-member inclusive interim government – the National Committee for Public Salvation (CNSP) – was set up to manage the transition. Further, a broad-based 27-member Consultative Commission on Constitutional and Electoral Matters (CCCE) drawn from the main political parties, civil society organisations, the religious bodies and the labour movement was established on 30 January 2000 to draw up a draft constitution and a new electoral code for the return to constitutional rule.

The CCCE presented its draft reports on the constitution and electoral reform at the end of March. A referendum on the draft documents is now scheduled to take place on 23 July 2000 with parliamentary and presidential elections following in September and October respectively.

On the surface, therefore, things seemed to be going according to the wishes of the people. However, the key political players and civil society were developing the jitters as the days went by. Against the hopes and prayers of the political parties, General Guéi’s demeanour had begun changing from that of midwife of the transition to that of a presidential candidate in waiting. So far, he has neither ruled himself in nor out of contention. Instead, he has allowed his actions and posturing to do the talking. He has all but replaced his blue beret and military fatigues with impeccably designed suits and considers the late Houphouet Boigny as his mentor and yardstick. According to a confidante quoted in Jeune Afrique L’Intelligent, before the General takes any decision, he asks himself the question: ‘What would Houphouet have done in my place?’ To add substance to his father-figure status, he talks down to all his rival presidential hopefuls, blaming them for their part in engineering social upheavals. In a recent address to former members of parliament, he blamed all the deputies for ‘sowing the wind that had yielded the storm.’

General Guéi may lack the political platform from which to launch and sustain his campaign, but he retains very credible options. Last April, a new party calling itself Rassemblement pour le Consensus National (Rally for National Consensus) was launched at the trendy Sofitel Hotel in the Plateau District of Abidjan with the sole aim of nominating the General as its presidential candidate. The new strongman retains another unlikely option: to lead the party that he overthrew! General Guéi, a card-bearing member and a regional leader of the PDCI-RDA until the coup, did not ban the deposed party. According to reliable sources interviewed by the CDD mission in the capital, two powerful lobbies dominated the extraordinary congress of PDCI-RDA at the beginning of April this year. The internal faction of the party, led by the interim leader Laurent Dona Fologo, Jean Konan Banny (Head of the Party Crisis Committee) and Akoto Yao, was pushing for the candidacy of General Guéi. However, the immense influence of the exiled ex-President, Henri Konan Bédié, among the party faithful forced the Congress to shelve the plans.

All the signs point to the General presenting himself as a candidate, barring any strong opposition from civil society. By maintaining pro-active silence, he has kept everybody guessing and hoping against hope. Since the coup, various civil society organisations have rediscovered their voices, long silenced by the stifling political atmosphere of the past. The umbrella organisation of 45 women organisations, the Réseau Ivoirien des Organisations Féminines (RIOF), the human rights body Ligue des Droits de L’Homme and the student movement have been speaking up on a range of issues that the coup had thrown up - the need for independent enquiry into past corruption, transparency in the transitional programme, military brutality, banditry, discrimination against women and ethnic animosity. It is however doubtful whether the fledgling civil society has developed enough muscle yet to be able to take on the military.

In discussions with the CDD delegation, senior members of the opposition parties and NGOs, could not hide their concern over the direction of the transition, and particularly the ambivalent stance of the military. A senior official of the FPI lamented that many people had hoped that the coup would follow the ‘mini-revolution’ of Mali, where a military take over in March 1991 led to a smooth transition to transparent constitutional rule and the return of the army to the barracks. But the dissimilarity between the two situations could not be any clearer. In Mali, the civil society revolt that was led by students, women/mothers, workers and the independent media brought the country to a standstill. By the time General Ansomane Touré stepped into the political vacuum, it had become abundantly clear that the military could not stop the momentum of civil society, particularly the anti-military sentiments that the revolt had galvanised. In la Côte d’Ivoire, the military ran the show from the start. It was their revolt that developed into the coup; civil society input was not significant. Indeed, the crucial role played by the rank and file of the army, as well as General Guéi’s role as invitee to lead the junta, is part of the reason for the General’s dilemma. According to well-informed sources, the army is not in a hurry to exit the political scene and it is pressuring Guéi to hang on.

Of the many concerns confronting the country, ethnicity seems to be the weapon of choice in the unfolding struggle for power. La Côte d’Ivoire, in terms of foreigner-national ratio and internal ethnic composition, represents a unique case-study. Roughly 35% of the population are migrants, largely from adjoining Francophone states – a price the country had to pay for its status as the second most powerful economy in the sub-region behind Nigeria, and the economic powerhouse of Francophone West Africa. Internally, the country is sharply divided down the middle with the Christian/Traditionalist Akan predominant in the South while the arid North is populated by diverse ethnicities, many of whom profess the Islamic faith. Southward migration by nationals of Burkina Faso, Niger, Mali and Guinea has swelled the population of northern Ivorians to the extent that many consider the Northerners as foreigners and at best, second-class citizens. The domination of Southerners in Ivorian politics and the concentration of industries and development projects in the South have further polarised the two societies both in terms of standard of living and social status.

Today, la Côte d’Ivoire has become a melting pot of inter-ethnic fusion, particularly among the Northerners. Cross-marriages among different nationalities have turned the country into a multi-cultural society and the national question into a contentious and sensitive issue. That is why the policy of l’Ivoirité that seeks to sort people, behaviour and traditions into Ivorian and non-Ivorian has become so divisive. Ex-President Konan Bédié tried to eliminate his key rival Alassane Ouattara (a Northerner who held various portfolios under Houphouet Boigny) from the political equation by classifying him as Burkinabe.

Many political activists and civil society organisations have condemned this practice of classifying Ivorians into first-class and second-class citizens, but the practice has not abated even after the coup. The Junta is currently conducting an exercise to issue national identity cards to citizens and resident permits to foreigners. Many of the Northerners and the migrant community find themselves under siege and in panic, and are using all means including fraud to obtain the carte d'identité.

In the draft constitution to be put to a referendum this July, both parents of a presidential candidate must be Ivorian for her/him to be considered eligible. With the introduction of cartes d’identité that would undoubtedly affect his electoral base among Northerners and Muslims, Ouattara may be right in thinking that the conspiracy against him continues unabated even after the coup. The ID cards and eligibility issues put the widely circulated view that the 24 December coup was tailor-made for Ouattara in perspective and also lend credibility to the fear that Guéi would be a candidate. In a recent government reshuffle, General Guéi threw out all the representatives of Ouattara’s party from the interim government, mainly because of their protests at what they see as deliberate constitutional attempts to eliminate their leader from the coming elections. Nor do these issues unduly worry the other key presidential aspirants from FPI and PDCI, as any misfortune for their key opponent shortens the odds of their own chances.

When women organisations led by RIOF intervened several times in the past few weeks on the issue of violence and banditry since the coup, they were raising a major issue of common concern. To many, the coup averted a possible civil war by putting an end to the divisive politics of PDCI. As should be expected, the military stormed into power promising law and order. Since the coup, it has moved swiftly to pacify the ‘no-go zones’ in the commercial capital, Abidjan. Special commando units have been created to take on organised crime rackets in Kokodi, Treicheville and other crime-infested gang-lands of the city. But the coup also released thousands of small arms from the armouries of the MACA barracks into the hands of trigger-happy soldiers. Many of these weapons have ended up in the wrong hands, sparking a sharp rise in the instances of banditry and highway robbery. In the streets, the military constantly stops motorists and pedestrians alike at roadblocks for on the spot checks for ID cards. Harassment and extortion have often accompanied these searches.

The coup has also introduced new civil defence forces into the security equation of the country. A point in question is the Brotherhood of the Dozo. Traditionally organised along the lines of Kamajors in Sierra Leone, the Dozos are collectives of hunters in Northern Cote d’Ivoire who combine hunting and community defence with assistance in community reconstruction. Since the coup, however, they are being armed and transformed to perform the duties of the police and gendarmérie. Their incursion into the traditional domain of regular forces could constitute a security threat to the country in a throwback to the clashes between the Kamajors and the army in Sierra Leone.

By far, however, the major source of threat, and also of opportunity, is the transition programme in the extent to which it may influence the reconfiguration of power relations among the elite and how this would affect ethnic tensions within society. The ideal scenario, whereby the army oversees impartial and transparent transfer of power to a constitutionally established Second Republic, seems remote. General Guéi currently holds all the political trump cards and has stolen a march on his opponents. The tendency among ordinary Africans to hold in awe whoever manages to usurp power, the absence of a radical, combat-tested and influential civil society front and the very novelty of the coup d’état in la Côte d’Ivoire combine to stack the odds in the General’s favour.

The major political parties would certainly cry foul, should General Guéi decide to run for office. The temporary bonhommie and partnership that have existed between the parties and the military would go up in smoke as the stage is set for bitter fights ahead. The ethnic polarisation will exacerbate and civil-military confrontations will intensify.

The people and their organisations are waking up to the real intentions of the military. Latecomers to the military syndrome in African politics, General Guéi and his armed followers are preparing to make the most out of the December coup. By the time they are done, the coffers of la Côte d’Ivoire will have been emptied, basic infrastructure destroyed and political intolerance and repression raised to alarmingly new heights. That is the balance sheet of military interventions in African politics. So far, General Guéi and his troops have done nothing to show that they would be any different.

Many Ivorians and their organisations would want to see the army back in the barracks. However, the low level of civil society organisation and relative inexperience in engagement with the military greatly limit their options. This is therefore the time for concerted civil society action in the West African sub-region in solidarity with pro-democracy forces within la Côte d’Ivoire.

CDD calls on ECOWAS States and the international community to employ diplomatic and financial levers to force the military to hand over power and return to the barracks. If, however, General Guéi harbours presidential ambitions, this is the time for him to resign from the interim government, dissociate himself from the structures overseeing the transition and wage his campaign on equal footing with the other candidates. In causa sua, he cannot be a judge in his own case.

POSTSCRIPT

In a move that confirmed the fears raised by CDD in its December 1999 reaction to the Guéi coup, on Tuesday 4 July, 67 mutinous soldiers in the largest military barracks – Bouaké – seized military hardware and rampaged through the city seizing civilian vehicles, looting and causing mayhem. The rebellion soon spread to Abidjan, forcing General Guéi’s junta to declare a state of emergency. The demands of the soldiers were the same as those that led to the overthrow of Konan Bedié – payment of service arrears and bonuses. The next day, the General met the mutineers and agreed to pay each soldier CFA1million (about US$1400) in bonuses. Soon after, he met leaders of the political parties and accused them of instigating the mutiny. This put the leaders on the back foot, with PDCI and FPI leaders - Laurent fologo and Laurent Gbagbo - queuing up on television to dissociate themselves from the soldiers’ action. Conspicuous by his absence both at the meeting and the TV appearances was Alassane Ouattara. This led observers to conclude that he was the target of the accusing finger.

The mutiny by a section of the military could be ominous for the future of democracy in the country. It could portend a get-tough and intransigent attitude by the junta. It is most unlikely that civilian politicians were behind the rebellion. By being on the defensive rather than condemning the junta’s insinuations, they are ceding the political initiative to the junta. Guided by narrow political interests, they appear to be going along with the junta’s ploy to squeeze out Alassane Ouattara. If that is their game, they will soon wake up to find that once Ouattara is out of the way, they will become the next logical targets for the military.

Ruling out any civilian role in the military mutiny, there can exist only two interpretations for the event. It is possible that the rank and file of the army is not ready yet to quit the political scene. They effectively installed General Guéi as head of the junta and can remove him if they so desire. The readiness of the junta to meet the financial demands of soldiers in the midst of serious economic hardships is an indication of where real power lies. It will not surprise keen observers if the mutineers pressed General Guéi for the suspension of the transition programme as part of their demands.

On the other hand, it is not inconceivable that the junta engineered this mutiny as a means of fashioning excuses to scuttle the transition and close up the little political space that civil society had carved up for itself since 1991. After lambasting politicians for orchestrating the mutiny in order to gain ‘power by any means’, the junta’s information minister, Captain Henri Sama, warned the fledgling independent media of dire consequences if they did not desist from ‘negative’ reporting.

The political parties, NGOs and CBOs within la Côte d’Ivoire need to be wary of the junta’s tactics. At the end of the day, there is little to choose between the unruly other ranks who are terrorising civilians in the streets and General Guéi’s junta in terms of their attitude to civilians and policy. The bottom line should be clear: Both the mutineers and the junta should retreat to the barracks while the democratic transition is allowed to take its course.