The trade-off offered by
authoritarianism to its client-constituents is security and high growth rates.
After Meles challenges may force change, or build the case domestically for a new
strong man.
Meles Zenawi, the former
Prime Minister of Ethiopia, has been dead for around three months. But the “Melesmania” personality cult, though discreet
in his lifetime, shows no sign of fading. From giant portraits in the streets to stickers on the windscreens of almost
any vehicle, a smiling Meles is still everywhere.
The sudden death of Meles shook the whole of Ethiopia. The
shock quickly gave way to fear of an unknown and threatening future.
The regime did everything to exploit this fear for its own
benefit. It has issued continuous calls for the nation to unite around the
memory of the dead leader and, above all, around the project he designed and
imposed with an iron hand. The new Prime Minister, Hailemariam Selassie, endlessly repeats
that he will pursue “Meles’s legacy without any change”. He has replaced not a
single cabinet minister. It could be said that the regime is running on
autopilot, with the Meles software driving the leadership computer. Plunged
into disarray, the governing team is hanging on to this software like a
lifebelt. Why?
The making of Melesmania
Until the crisis of 2001, the handful of leaders of the
Tigrayan People’s Liberation Front (TPLF), the dominant force in the Ethiopian
People’s Revolutionary Democratic Front (EPRDF) in power since 1991,[1]
worked in a remarkably collective way.
Within this group Meles was – and not always – the primus inter pares,
surrounded by strong, clever and articulate figures united by a radical
Marxism. The crisis culminated in the expulsion of most of these figures, in a
massive purge and finally in a threefold power shift.
The first shift saw Meles emerge as the unchallenged
supremo, moving quickly to clip the wings of the few leaders who seemed to be
acquiring a solid political base. He promoted only those whose loyalty he
considered unshakeable, whose positions depended entirely on his goodwill,
people like Hailemariam Dessalegn. Radiating outwards from a first circle of
“advisers”, almost all Tigrayan, all the lines of real power penetrated down to
the base of the State apparatus, whether federal or regional,[2]
to the Party and to whole
sectors of the economy.
Although the government reflected the country’s ethnic
diversity, most ministers had authority only in name. Parliament, as it had
since 1991, remained a rubberstamp chamber. No institution was able to escape
this dominance and achieve autonomy. Moreover, this personal power was also
intellectual. The one politically correct doctrine (“revolutionary democracy”
and the “developmental state”) was devised and imposed on the country by Meles
and Meles alone. This monopoly prevented the emergence of any other body of
ideas and, inevitably, of any alternative line of thinking.
The army and security services were represented within this
central authority, which held sway over them. Later, although Meles Zenawi
maintained a grip on the security forces, the army gradually became
“bunkerized”, a sort of state within the State. Meles himself had to
acknowledge the autonomy of the military command, by agreeing a kind of pact: I
will grant you substantial autonomy, and in particular turn a blind eye to your
wheeling and dealing; you support me, especially since if I fall, you fall with
me. Hence, no doubt, the remarked upon reticence of the army during the recent
period of succession, as if it felt so powerful that its fortress would remain
impregnable, away from the turbulent currents within the new governing team.
Hence, also, the procedure followed in announcing, on September 12, the
appointment of 37 new generals – including at least 23 from Tigray – a reminder
that no one, not even Hailamariam Dessalegn, can interfere in the affairs of
the military.
The third change concerned the TPLF and, concomitantly, the
EPRDF. It was contradictory. On the one hand, the tentacles of the single party
penetrate to every level of the administration: it has consumed the State from
the inside. Its agenda takes absolute precedence. The TPLF holds the key positions
in the nationalised companies and the web of “private” firms that in reality it
controls, the so-called “parastatal companies”. Overall, this structure
accounts for two thirds of the modern economy, excluding traditional
agriculture. With its 5 million members – 300,000 in 2001 – the Party controls
and directs the population as never before, right down to the smallest echelon
of five or six households. On the other hand, the Party has been marginalised
as a political institution and therefore left lifeless, if not brainless. The
TPLF, not to mention the three other satellite parties, were reduced to mere
instruments for the exercise of Meles’ personal power, an essential institution
but nevertheless no more than an instrument.
This
extreme concentration of multifarious powers in the hands of Meles Zenawi is
one of the darkest aspects of his legacy: his death leaves a profound and
multifaceted vacuum. Conversely, however, it also opens up an exceptional
opportunity for change. First, politics and power, like nature, abhor a vacuum.
Second, the Meles “model” is running out of steam. It will inevitably have to
be refashioned.
Challenging the regime to
change
Contestation from the Muslim opposition poses the most
immediate challenge, perhaps the most serious for the regime since 1991. In
order to counter what it sees as the rise of radical Islam, it is seeking to impose a
“moderate” but completely marginal Islamic doctrine and to back its affiliates
within the Islamic Affairs Supreme Council. Thirty-five percent of the
population is officially Muslim[3]
– the real figure is probably higher – along with around half of the Oromos,
who also have strong aspirations to autonomy. Muslims, the vast majority of
whom reject extremism of any kind, are calling – peacefully – for nothing more
than the right to decide their religious affairs for themselves. The government
is responding by repression.
The stakes are huge: protest continues; so far, the government has never been
ready to lose control of a large “civil society” organisation.
For a whole section of opinion, in particular within the
diaspora, the major challenge that the regime will need to tackle and which
will inevitably demand change is “the
widespread democratic aspiration of Ethiopians”. But the scope and nature
of this aspiration is open to question. The traditional and historical culture,
which permeates the overwhelming majority of Ethiopian society, is still
hierarchical and authoritarian. It is in perfect harmony with the “communist
engineering” that moulded the TPLF from its inception and still shapes the
ruling power.
With very few exceptions, the demand for a “strong leader”,
who guarantees “peace and security”, is a national constant. Weak leadership
opens the door to power struggles, which inevitably leads to “disorder” and the
suffering that arises from it. Even the emerging middle class, usually seen as
the spearhead of opposition to authoritarian regimes, largely shares this view.
Whatever its criticisms of the regime, it desires stability above all. It
largely believes that the country is too divided to undergo profound change
without the risk of tragic turmoil.
Nevertheless, the aspiration for change is undeniable,
though within certain limits. These relate first to inflation, which in
September hit a peak of 40% overall, and 50% for food.[4]
More profoundly, in this urban middle class and in the emerging group of
“kulaks” in the countryside, this aspiration centres around what might be
called personal professional empowerment, in other words: “let us go about our
business as we want”, without the constant intervention and intrusion of the
authorities, without having to swear fealty to the Party, without arbitrariness
exacerbated by erratic and opaque regulations.
However,
this change is not simply a matter of aspiration. Although the “developmental
state”, in its current form, has brought remarkable progress, it has reached
its limits. The first question concerns the reality of its achievements,
notably the famous “double digit growth” since 2004, which the authorities
constantly extol.[5] In fact,
this figure is the product of a vicious circle. The government sets absurdly
ambitious targets. The work of every public servant is assessed against those
targets. Their careers depend on it. And of course, they claim to have achieved
them. Then the targets are raised again. Once again, they claim to have met
them. The lie becomes institutionalised. The gap between basic national
realities and the image that the authorities perceive and communicate, from
summit to base, has become so great that it could be said that Ethiopia has
turn out to be not so much a Potemkin village, as a Potemkin country. Sooner or
later, the authorities will have to deal with the shockwave that results when
the truth inevitably comes out.[6]
Another shock will arise from the unsustainability of the
funding of the developmental state. The government will no longer be able to
invest enough to maintain growth at the same high levels as in recent years, unless
it continues to print money, further fuelling inflation, or alternatively runs
a continuing trade deficit, exacerbating its foreign currency crisis. But apart
from stability, high growth is all the regime can offer in return for its
authoritarianism. This is particularly true for the middle classes, which the
regime wants as its constituency.
This is all the more significant because in the last generation
the land has reached saturation point. Smallholder agriculture (employing four
fifths of the workforce) is absolutely unable to absorb the 2 to 2.5 million
young people who enter the labour market every year. Only massive private
investment, mainly from abroad, can take up the slack.[7]
However, this investment is slow to come because the Ethiopian-style
developmental state distorts and inhibits normal market mechanisms too much for
investors to be able to enjoy the entrepreneurial freedom they find elsewhere.[8]
Finally, the future of the Ethiopian-style developmental
state is interlocked with the “national question”, whether in regard to the
unresolved legacy of the conquest and submission of the borders of the
Abyssinian empire at the turn of the 20th century, or to the unequal
distribution of powers and assets in favour of the Tigrayans. The Ogaden National
Liberation Front continues its armed struggle. The Oromo Liberation Front,
although militarily a spent force, retains a large following.
After long containment, centrifugal forces are intensifying.
The Oromo and Amhara elites in particular want a fairer balance. Two recent
examples give a flavour of the tensions. The Oromo party does not want the
chairman that the leadership wants to impose on it, but cannot impose the
chairman that it wants. This deadlock was unthinkable when it was under Meles’ orders.
Regions are beginning to demand a more tangible application of the federal
system, in other words the beginnings of genuine autonomy, starting with…
Tigray. However, in its current form, the ultra-centralism of the interwoven
developmental state and revolutionary democracy is incompatible with authentic
federalism.
To
reshape either would threaten the very essence of power in Ethiopia, and its
immemorial imperative: to control. This entails maintaining a constant and
intrusive hold over the whole of society, with a single, ultimate and supreme
goal: to retain power.
End of the "Meles line"? Four scenarios
However, the writing is on the wall. The “Meles line” will
not always have an answer for everything. Forthcoming events will demand
change, even the partial rejection of that line. An accumulation of tensions
and conflicts, kept in check by Meles’ iron grip, will inevitably emerge. The
floodgates are beginning to open. Never before, for example, has a major
newspaper, whose survival depends on continuous self-censorship, dared to go so
far in its criticism of the EPRDF. Beginning with a statement of fact – that
the Front does not have “a popular base and support” – The Reporter then calls
on the party “to clean up its house” because “it is riddled with corruption
from top to bottom!”. A change of direction and a reshuffling of the cards seem
inevitable. In my view, there are four possible ways these changes could go.
In one scenario, the current leaders, who largely equate to
the dominant oligarchy, cling to their positions and privileges. Economic,
social and political tensions rise. They respond with more repression, for
which all the necessary instruments are in place. However, this does seem a
likely scenario. According to confidences shared with people close to them,
most are convinced that Meles’ death signals the end of an era and that the
status quo is untenable.
A second possibility that cannot be completely ruled out,
despite the leaden weight that bears down on society and the intense fear it
arouses, is a popular, spontaneous and unforeseeable explosion, triggered by a
minor incident, spreading like wildfire, fuelled by social and, in particular,
ethnic tensions. The regime would spare no effort to suppress it, but could
ultimately be overwhelmed by events.
In the developmental state, government revenues are
certainly centralised at the top, but then largely redistributed to implement a
long-term development plan, although this redistribution is becoming increasingly limited
as corruption rises. Meles was the final guarantor of this
redistributive process. Who, what political force, what counterbalancing
element could protect Ethiopia from the predatory evolution observed in so many
developing countries, in particular those where a “revolutionary elite” holds
all the levers of power (in black Africa, for example, Angola or Mozambique)?
In this third scenario, these revenues would continue to be centralised but
would remain mostly with the central oligarchy, the residue being redistributed
through a structure of cronyism. Growth could continue at a sufficient level
for the oligarchic regime to survive, but “development” would fall by the
wayside.
In the fourth scenario, this party/state control would be
relaxed, obviously not to the point of genuine democratisation, but through
some liberalisation in the economic sphere. More or less the Chinese “model”.
Circumstances and events favour this scenario. Meles’ death has led to a
fragmentation of power centres, which are weakly structured and cancel each
other out, because none at this stage is in a position to take a lead. For
example, no agreement could be reached on filling the only vacant cabinet post,
that of Minister of Foreign Affairs. And for weeks no one was able to force
Azeb Mesfin, wife of the late prime minister, to leave the National Palace,
where she no longer had any reason to remain.
Contest at the top
The TPLF’s current leadership no longer has the intellectual
capacity or sufficiently strong personalities to become what historically it
was, at least in the short term: the epicentre of power, exercising full
political hegemony. It has also been weakened by its many divisions. Divisions
between “hardliners”, holding fast to their historic dominance, and
“moderates”, for whom a relaxation is unavoidable; between Tigreans in Tigray
and those outside; between generations, the “old timers” and the
“fortysomethings”. The former include many who, sidelined by Meles in the name
of generational change, want to get back into the game. However, they are old,
and even in many cases physically enfeebled. The second group, recently
promoted by Meles, and much less political than technocratic, individualistic,
opportunistic and even – according to their detractors – cynical, have no
intention of giving ground.
Two
major factions can also be identified: one that the major losers of 2001 want
to build (including Siye Abraha and Gebru Asrat,[9]
who are still very popular with rank-and-file members of the Front), the other
centred around its patriarch, Shebat Nega, a master schemer and long-time
mentor of Meles before the latter marginalised him.
And finally, there is the enigma Azeb Mesfin. Fiery and
unpredictable, she was the main troublemaker in the succession process, the
leading figure in the minority that opposed the appointment of Hailemariam
Dessalegn. She holds a strong hand, including an intimate understanding of the
strengths and weaknesses of all the players, close links with the security
services, leadership of the TPLF’s economic conglomerate and supporters amongst
cadres of the Front, those who would have the most to lose if the cards were
reshuffled.
A few other names stand out from the pack. The intelligent
and highly respected Arkebe Enquay won more votes than Meles at the 2008 TPLF
conference, but lost out in 2010. Debretsion Gebremichael is seen as the
Front’s rising star. This young engineering graduate, a senior figure in the
security services, has a reputation as a hardliner. His sudden promotion to
number two in the Front is all the more significant in that the titular number
one, Abay Wolde, is widely perceived as something of a cipher. And then
finally, there are a pair of Amhara party bosses, Addissu Leguesse, its former
chairman, and the ever-present Berket Simon, who was also very close to Meles.
However, understanding the game being played out at the top
is exceptionally difficult, and not only because of the wall of secrecy around
it. A political analysis provides only a small part of the picture. Much more
important now are each player’s economic positions – since most of the leaders
also have their own businesses – the very close family ties within the Tigrayan
elite, geographical origins, personal friendships and enmities. The web these
form is virtually impossible to untangle.
Nonetheless, three dominant poles seem to be emerging: the
brainless but still tentacular TPLF, and the security services with their
osmotic relations with certain leaders of the Front; the army, closely
intertwined with the TPLF, though more ethnically than institutionally; and
finally, the new Prime Minister.
Hailemarian
Dessalegn has taken great care to stress
his desire “to work on the basis of collective leadership”. In fact, within
the small fringe of public opinion that has a view on the matter, he is seen
almost unanimously as a transitional prime minister, a sort of regent
accountable to what might be described as a “regency committee” comprising,
according to sources, four to six members, all from the old guard and all but
one from Tigray. The view is that Hailemariam’s interim mandate will end once
the TPLF has finally designated the real successor. For the Front’s supremacy
is still perceived as irrevocable and the history of Ethiopia as immutable:
“collective leaderships” are temporary and unfailingly end with the ascent of a
new “strong leader”.
A renewal of the
authoritarian compact?
At 47, Dessalegn has stated that he wants to remain in post
at least until the 2015 selections, and even that he may seek re-election. He
is said to be intelligent, open, unshakeable in his principles, possessed of
great natural authority. He appears as a Meles clone in terms of policy. But no
one knows if he would be able to go his own way, develop his own doctrine, be
his own man. He belongs to none of the three big ethnic groups. He is a
Protestant. No Ethiopian leader has ever had to overcome these two handicaps.
Could Medvedev step into Putin’s shoes?
His trump card is his twofold legitimacy. The first
legitimacy he owes to Meles. Even his putative rivals, particularly within the
TPLF, cannot at this stage contest this without undermining other aspects of
the “great leader’s” legacy. It is doubtful that they would do so as long as
Meles’ long shadow lies across the political stage. In addition, it is this
legacy that continues to bind and guide the current leadership. And finally, it
is this that they need to use to legitimise the maintenance of their current
positions.
The second source of legitimacy is more deep-rooted and
lasting. “The ruling king is my king”, as the saying goes. The whole country is
impregnated with an ancestral sense of hierarchy, of submission to established
authority. The aspiration for an incontestable and uncontested leader is
strong. Hailemariam Dessalegn is now simultaneously executive leader and chair
of what is essentially the single party, and therefore, at least in name, also
heads the TPLF, the army and the security services. In this capacity, he has
his hands on virtually all the institutional levers of power. These levers are
not only intrinsic; their strength is also significantly increased by this
ancestral sense of hierarchy. Finally, he stands at the summit of the
infrastructure of absolute power passed on intact by Meles.
The forces facing him, for the moment at least, are
disunited, scattered and disparate. There is no tangible, structured
counterforce, underpinned by a strong base and possessing a strategy
commensurate with the challenges. The army is in its bunker, but there is no
reason why he should not find the same modus vivendi with it as Meles,
especially as there is no sign of a Bonaparte waiting in the wings.
Finally, Hailemariam Dessalegn has the time to
patiently forge his own position, if he has the capacity. There does not seem
to be any single figure strong enough to open hostilities in the near future,
or adventurous enough to take the country into the unknown.
[1] Its four components each
represents a major ethnic group: Tigrayan (6% of the population), Oromo (37%),
Amhara (23%) and the mosaic of Southern peoples (20%). The Tigrayan People’s
Liberation Front was the spearhead and major winner of the victory over the
Derg military junta in 1991.
[2] Ethiopia is a federal
republic.
[4] In a two-year period, civil servants lost
around half their purchasing power. Peasants, half of whom are net buyers of food, often
claim that “inflation is worse than
prison”.
[5] Although, officially, the
annual growth rate has been more than 10% since 2004, in reality it has been
considerably less, probably some 6% to 7%. It continues to
fall. “Even before the onset of the 2008 crisis, Ethiopia’s economy was
already slowing down” (World Bank Report N°71884-ET, August 29, 2012).
[6] International
organisations like the IMF, and large donor countries, have finally begun to
doubt the official statistics, including those for growth rate and agricultural
production. According to assessments by certain large international development
institutions, official grain production is overstated by some 30%.
[7] Foreign direct investment
is amongst the lowest in Sub-Saharan Africa per head of population.
[8] “Despite some positive developments in
industry and service sectors, Ethiopia has been a difficult place to do
business”, World Bank Report N°71884-ET, August 29, 2012.
[9] Siye Abraha was one of
the founders of the Front and its leading military figure. Gebru Asrat, a
historic leader of the TPLF, was the president of the Tigray region at the time
of his expulsion.
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