Reading: African Democracy: Elections Despite Divisions
A Markets and Democracy Brief
| Authors: |
John Campbell, Ralph Bunche Senior Fellow for Africa Policy Studies
Asch Harwood, Research Associate
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October 2011
Hopes are running high for Liberia's second presidential elections
since the end of its brutal civil war. The first round of polling
appears to be credible. And with former warlord and current senator
Prince Johnson's endorsement, President Ellen Johnson Sirleaf, Africa's
first female head of state, is likely to win the run-off in November in
what has been so far a largely fair and peaceful election. However,
recent presidential elections in Ivory Coast and Nigeria risk
overshadowing Liberia's consolidating democracy, and they are much
larger countries. Both polls were historic: Ivory Coast's was the first
since the end of civil war, and Nigeria's “better” election followed its
2007 “election-like event.” Nevertheless, they illustrate, alongside
the polls in Kenya in 2007 and Zimbabwe in 2008, the potential for
violent elections in profoundly divided countries. Twenty-seven African
countries will hold local and national elections by the end of 2011, and
at least seventeen more are expected next year. If elections are so
often violent and polarizing, even when they are deemed free and fair,
should the United States be promoting them? The answer is yes. Because
Africans want them.
In Ivory Coast last year, incumbent president Laurent Gbagbo's
rejection of the victory of his political challenger, Alassane Ouattara,
led to a four-month standoff that brought the country to the brink of
renewed civil war. Hundreds of thousands were displaced, and thousands
were killed. Last spring in Nigeria, following news that incumbent
president and southern Christian Goodluck Jonathan had won the
presidential contest, anger in northern states originally directed at
the ruling People's Democratic Party mutated into religious and ethnic
violence that left an estimated one thousand people dead.
Yet, for Americans, elections are a good thing. They define
democracy. In school, American children learn about the gradual
expansion of suffrage to almost all citizens. Americans also think that
elections are decisive, which means that, at least in theory, if a
candidate wins office by one vote, he or she wins. But there is a deeply
ingrained respect for the rights of losers—and a recognition that they
might be the winner next time. Americans are not keen on power sharing,
even if a poll is close. Instead, the losers wait for the next election
and try again.
This willingness to relinquish power and wait patiently for the next
election is rooted in shared American values and well-developed civic
identities (in spite of current divisions in Congress). Further, there
is the expectation that elections in the United States will happen—no
matter what. It is well known that during World War II, Americans did
not postpone elections, and there were elaborate arrangements to allow
those serving in the armed forces to vote. Accordingly, Franklin D.
Roosevelt was elected to a fourth presidential term, defeating New York
governor Thomas E. Dewey. But few probably remember that presidential
elections were also held on schedule in the United States during the
Civil War, with Abraham Lincoln defeating General George B. McClellan.
The contest was real: Lincoln thought he would lose.
Hence, it is no surprise that, in the postcolonial era, official U.S.
policy in Africa has been to do what it can to promote free, fair, and
credible elections. In Nigeria, for example, the United States has
contributed millions of dollars toward elections since the restoration
of civilian government, mostly in support of Nigerian and American
nongovernmental organizations working to make elections meet
international standards. In Ivory Coast, the Obama administration
provided generous support to the United Nations as it organized the
November 2010 elections.
However, unlike the United States, many African countries are
profoundly divided, with longstanding grievances, weak institutions, and
nascent, if any, national identity. This is compounded by the
preponderance of “winner takes all” politics. When losing an election
means losing access to patronage, competitors are willing to risk
anything. They will mobilize divisions within society, whether ethnic,
religious, or regional, to protect their access to state wealth and
power. An abundance of unemployed and often uneducated youth is a
particularly destabilizing force, easily manipulated by politicians
seeking to intimidate or attack rivals.
Some observers have suggested that in the African context, the
emphasis on elections is an example of Western cultural imperialism, of
the West's imposing its value system and political practices where they
may not be appropriate. Critics will argue that for elections to work
there must be a sense of national identity, the rule of law, a certain
level of education, and sufficient economic development to allow voters
to make a free choice and not feel beholden to their boss, patron, or
ethnic leader. These prerequisites are incomplete in much of
sub-Saharan Africa.
The trouble with this argument is that Africans themselves
wholeheartedly embrace elections as a way to express their will. Indeed,
in Ivory Coast the electoral turnout was unprecedented: at least 80
percent of registered voters cast their ballots. In Nigeria in 2007 and
2011, turnout was low—because of the widespread perspective that
elections would not matter and a fear of violence. But, in the past,
turnout has been high. In fact, given the opportunity, Africans are
likely to vote with enthusiasm.
So, if Africans embrace elections, who are outsiders to say that they
are inappropriate? The discussion of “Asian values” more than twenty
years ago advanced the notion that despite countries' economic progress,
“cultural” barriers to democracy and elections existed in such places
as Malaysia, the Philippines, Singapore, South Korea, and Thailand. Yet
look at where many of these countries are now: there is little question
they are more democratic than during the height of the “Asian values”
debate. They are not perfect democracies, but then neither is the United
States, France, or the United Kingdom.
Further, alternative models of governance in sub-Saharan Africa are
less attractive than admittedly defective democratic ones, particularly
over the long term. The most common alternative has been military rule,
where the military comes to power to “clean up” a “mess” made by
civilians. But military rulers often hold on to power as long as they
can and become progressively more oppressive. Hence, in Nigeria, the
mild regimes of Yakubu Gowon and Murtala Muhammed were ultimately
followed by the alleged kleptocracy of Ibrahim Babangida and the savage
oppression of Sani Abacha. And, with one short civilian interregnum, the
military kept power for a generation, all the while proclaiming that it
was “restoring” democratic rule even as many of the colonels became
rich.
And, despite the gloom of Ivory Coast and Nigeria, there are numerous
examples of successful elections. Ghana is remarkably similar to Ivory
Coast in its divisions, yet it has had a series of successful elections.
Liberia was a victim of “big man” politics for years, yet the election
of Ellen Johnson Sirleaf in 2005 was seen by Liberians as credible, and
the 2011 polls look promising. There is also South Africa, where every
election since the end of apartheid in 1994 has been regarded by
international observers and South Africans themselves as legitimate.
So, rather than succumbing to Afro-pessimism, what should Africa's
friends do to promote democracy and free, fair, and credible elections?
Western democracies should continue to support African civic
organizations that are working for credible elections, the rule of law,
independent judiciaries, and democracy. These organizations often
operate on a shoestring, limiting their capacity, but in some countries
(Nigeria, for example) they have strong grassroots support. Western
donors should provide political and material assistance to African
judiciaries as well. For example, the international community should
not hesitate to speak out about the intimidation of African judges or
juries. On the practical and concrete side, when international donors
supply word processors to a court, they assist in speeding up the
judicial process—and the delivery of justice. This reinforces the rule
of law.
When governments are involved in election rigging, the international
community should disapprove publicly and withhold official expressions
of congratulations to the victor. In the same vein, outside democratic
governments should be leery of supporting “governments of national
unity,” which enable “big men” who have lost credible elections to stay
in power largely because they are willing to resort to violence.
Governments of national unity in Zimbabwe and Kenya have done little to
promote democracy or to resolve fundamental political issues. (They did
reduce—though not eliminate—the violence in the short term.)
These steps are not dramatic, nor are they glamorous. For Americans,
it may be uncomfortable to acknowledge that their ability to influence
the growth of democracy and the rule of law in Africa is limited. It is
Africans who will build both, in their own ways and with their own
visions. Democracy was not built in a day in the United States.
Likewise, it may take some time for Africans to develop the institutions
necessary for smooth democratic transitions. But they will do it, and
the United States should continue to assist in the small ways it can.
