When Meles Zenawi, the
omnipotent Prime Minister of Ethiopia, last appeared in public on 19 June, he
looked pale, thin and gaunt.
It took the government a month
to break the silence. Meles Zenawi is “recovering health-wise,” and,
above all, “he’s not staying out of duties as Prime Minister”.[1] On 1 August, a senior spokesman issued another
statement about the elusive PM: “there is no change and there will be
no change in the near future.”[2] But
what next? And what illness was he suffering from? Silence. Where is he? It
depends whom you ask. With no sign of Meles either in person or indirectly,
these statements are becoming less convincing as the days go by.
The
often outrageous, even delirious counter-information, especially on internet
sites run by government opponents living abroad, is no more convincing either.
According to some of them, Meles is already dead, and a raging battle has
started for his succession.
Yet, these hypotheses are not entirely out of the realm of possibility, especially given the history of Ethiopia,
where secrecy is a cardinal virtue. Menelik, the founder of modern imperial
Ethiopia, continued to “reign” for three years after he was
incapacitated by a stroke. His successor finally took power once the Shakespearian
internal power struggles were over inside the Palace. Haïle Selassie was
deposed in 1974 by a military junta, led by Mengistu Haile Mariam, who
had him suffocated to death a year later. In 1991 Mengistu fled to Zimbabwe, having
been defeated by the Tigray People’s Liberation Front (TPLF), led by Meles Zenawi, in a civil war that ended in
Addis Ababa.
If history is anything to go by, it will be hard to
find a peaceful and orderly route to succession. The Ethiopian people know
this, moulded as they are by their own history. On the surface, it’s
“business as usual”, the government governs and people go about their
daily affairs as usual. But under the surface there is an extremely heavy atmosphere, with an
overwhelming feeling that this is just the calm before the storm. The widespread conviction shared
by most diplomats and experts is that, whether Meles is dead or alive, he is no
longer in charge and never will be again, so the candidacy for his succession
is open. Under
this hypothesis, which is still no more than a hypothesis, it is
all the more difficult to speculate on what will happen when the leadership
operates under a cloak of complete secrecy, almost unequalled anywhere else in the world. Whatever is happening, one thing is obvious, the succession will have to navigate a untold number of threats,
unknowns and divisions.
The first of these is
institutional: nothing in the Constitution says what to do if the Prime
Minister dies or is incapacitated.[3] The
second is economic: inflation has reached a new high, even if it has started to
come down again,[4] and
growth has come to a grinding halt having been exceptional up until now
(officially 11% a year for the past eight years). The third is political: the
internal crisis of the TPLF in 2001 ended with the expulsion of part of the
“old guard”. The opposition pulled off a triumphal surge in the 2005
elections, which
forced the regime to a counter-attack, and from which the opponents
never really recovered. After 2005 “Ethiopia has
definitely fallen back into the camp of authoritarian regime’ as it is ‘de facto ruled by a ‘monolithic
party-state’”.[5] The
Front is now facing a third major challenge that could prove to be particularly severe. The Muslim community – officially
34% of the population, but in reality more –
has been moderate and tolerant for centuries, but now it is being caught up in government manoeuvres to forcefully enlist followers for the obscure branch of Islam
– al-Ahbash – whose enemy number one is Wahabism, which the regime thinks is growing too strong in Ethiopia.
Specialists on the subject play this down and think that the regime’s
actions are likely to have the opposite effect on the Muslim community. In
the meantime, the protests and arrests continue.[6]
In
addition to this tense context, this possible succession can
basically be looked at from three main points of view, which are of
course not mutually exclusive, but even reinforce one another,
namely: institutional, ethnic and “class”.
Up until the internal crisis of
2001, the leaders of the TPLF stood out in African politics. Even if
power was effectively confined to a very small inner circle, it still
operated in an exceptionally collective manner. To the outside world, Meles was
perceived as a strong leader, but
he was more the Primus
inter pares. The
TPLF delegated a great deal to him, but remained ultimately able to hold him to account,
and, if necessary, they would put him in place. But after 2001 the edifice of power under went a dramatic change
with Meles as its sole architect and master. He centralised power by utilising the three main pillars of the state.
First,
there was the security apparatus, in other words, the police and, if
things really got out of hand, the army, one of the largest and most
efficient in all of sub-Saharan Africa. Then he reinforced the power of his
inner circle, which, for the first time, was no longer comprised of key figures in the party
leadership of the TPLF. He shook up the Front’s leadership (the
nine-member Executive Committee) removing the remaining influential characters, under the guise of injecting young blood. At the
same time, he promoted people the opposition have dubbed “yes-men” – characterless officials whose
support he could rely on – including his own wife, Azeb Mesfin. The upshot was that none of the founders of the TPLF
were left, Meles himself having only joined a few months after the start of the
armed struggle. On top of this, his closest collaborators, and therefore those
to whom he delegated most power, were his advisers, who didn’t belong to this
leadership. The pre-eminence of the party, with its collegial leadership
structure, became no more than a distant memory.
Mutatis
mutandis, the predominance of Meles is equally apparent within the ruling
coalition, the Ethiopian People’s Revolutionary Democratic Front (EPRDF). This
has four components, with equal representation in its leadership for the
Tigreans (6% of the population), the Oromos (35%), Amharas (26%), and finally various ethnic groups from the South (20%).
The latter three were creations of the former when it became imperative that
the TPLF’s struggle against Mengistu needed to extend beyond the Tigray alone.
Ultimately, they remained under his control. “The EPRDF, at least outside Tigray, has
never been able, or indeed has never been allowed, to develop into an effective
political organisation whose regional leadership could exercise any autonomous
authority, or represent the communities that they governed”.[7] The change that Meles introduced was not so much this
subjugation, which still persisted, but how it was managed. While it was once
controlled by the leadership of the Front, it instead became completely under the control of Meles. He changed the leaders whenever he wanted and clipped the
wings of anyone who looked as though they were gaining political
support.
The third pillar is the economy.
The government effectively controls two thirds of the “modern” economy –
excluding the small holders in agriculture -, via the remaining nationalised
enterprises and the so-called “para-statal” enterprises, because they
are effectively the economic arm of the Front. This means it controls the
banks, insurance companies, telecommunications, transport, industry, etc. It is
the classical process whereby the former revolutionary elite “turns
into the ruling classthrough the primitive
accumulation of capital that is possible because of the very fact of holding
power.”[8]Political, business and even family roles are all confused, even though
they now respect a strict hierarchical order. And here again, the last word
goes to Meles himself, or Azeb Mesfin, whom he put in charge of the largest
“para-statal” conglomerate. Outside of this inner circle of
oligarch-leaders another, “private” oligarchy was formed, although it
can only operate within the orbit of a political “patron”.
The second viewpoint arises from Ethiopia’s diversity, being a patchwork
of “nations, nationalities and
peoples”, as laid down in the Constitution. To take this situation into
account, a Federal State of ethnic groups was set up, with power shared
equitably between them, at least in theory. The reality is something else. The
“national question” still persists –in
other words, the inability of successive regimes to manage the diversity of
Ethiopia in an equitable manner. Having
not been resolved for centuries, this remains the major source of potential
conflicts. It is the leaders from the Tigrean
minority – 6% of the population – who hold the reins of political power. Both
the police force and military command are entirely in their hands. Holding
political power means that they can be over-represented in the state and
para-statal economy, as well as in the so-called “private” economy,
thanks to the favours they benefit from.
To pass this ethnic bias, along with its growing authoritarianism, the
regime successfully played its only trump card – soaring economic growth. One of the premiums is that the beneficiaries end
up offering the regime their political support, or at least moving from a
position of opposition to one of neutrality, thus providing it with the social
basis it needs to sustain its durability. The stratification of social
“classes” – the third angle
from which to view this possible succession – has gained pace. A middle class –
those households that can provide for their own basic needs – has effectively
emerged, not just in the urban areas, but also in the rural areas where a
process of “kulakisation” is
patently operating.
What could happen if the cornerstone of this whole edifice were to
disappear ? Would everything come tumbling down, like a house of cards, as
the opposition websites predict and hope for? Or, on the contrary, as one
diplomat in Addis-Ababa points out, has the “the structure” demonstrated
that it does not rest on the shoulders of one single man, since it is
continuing to function without any obvious hiccups or crises?[9]But is
this just a matter of its momentum? And in reality or just appearance? For the
long term or just temporarily?
If Meles is out of the game, it
is obviously in the best interest of the TPLF to take the initiative by putting
forward a solution for his replacement as quickly as possible so as to keep its
hold on power. Also, because Meles cleared away any possible contenders from his
entourage, there is no obvious, strong candidate who could step in at short
notice. “He will be leaving very big boots that cannot be filled by anyone
else,” according to one of the founders
of the Front, now a member of the opposition.[10] The solution could therefore consist of entrusting
formal power to the Deputy Prime Minister, Hailemariam Dessalegn, who is from
the South. The other option is to find somebody else with the same profile, while the effective power,
at least for the time being, would be in the hands of a collective leadership at
the top the Front, the army and the security services playing a key role in its
composition and in decision-making. And since the Constitution stipulates that
the Prime Minister has to be a member of parliament from the majority party or
coalition, the Front could propose that one of the members of this collective
be ultimately elected to the newly vacant post, which would give a window
dressing of legality to the succession.
But the TPLF itself is anything
but homogeneous. The first fissure comes from the individuals concerned. Even
if the major figures excluded from power in 2001 no longer seem likely to be
able to make a reappearance, regardless of their historical calibre, other
leaders who were once in the forefront, only to be sidelined recently, might
wish to make their come-back, notably by advocating the restoration of the
pre-eminence of the Front. They would naturally meet with resistance from those
who have recently been promoted. But how strong would the latter be, given that
they owe their position to the whims of Meles? Those most often cited as being
in control now include: Behrane Gebre-Kristos, the diplomat, and Neway Gebreab,
the economist, advisers to Meles; Samora
Yunus, commander in chief of the armed forces; Getachew Assefa, head of the security apparatus;
Abay Woldu, chief of the Tigray region. Only the latter is a member of the
Executive Committee, and only two of the four others sit on the 45-members
Central Committee.
The second fissure is
geographical. At the TPLF congress before the last, the majority of voters outside
of Tigray supported Meles, while those from Tigray itself backed Arkebe Equbay,
the former mayor of Addis Ababa, who ended up winning the most votes. He
withdrew spontaneously. Since then he has been relegated to the Central
Committee and holds no other responsibilities at all. In addition, the
over-representation of leaders hailing from Meles’ home town of Adwa, causes
considerable gnashing of teeth.
Last, but not least, the TPLF
itself is criss-crossed by political divisions, which is totally logical, given
that simply belonging to the same ethnic group does not mean automatically
sharing the same political views. These divisions are themselves centred around
three points. What position should be adopted vis-à-vis Eritrea, with which Ethiopia
has been neither at war nor peace since 2002? When Meles decided to put a stop
to the victorious offensive of the Ethiopian army in Eritrea (2000) and signed
the Alger agreements which brought the war to an end, a number of Tigrean
leaders felt these decisions showed an inexcusable weakness. And which economic
model should be followed, or, in other words, how far to go in creating a free
market and what should be the place of the public and para-public sectors? But
the main point is the Tigrean stranglehold.
“Hard liners” still feel that 17 years of bloody and exhausting armed
struggle against the Mengistu regime gives them an undisputed right to govern,
and that this legitimacy is irrevocable, because it is more deserving than any
that could be claimed by an alternative force emerging through the ballot box.[11] At the
other extreme, a “realist” wing feels that maintaining this stranglehold can
only end in disaster, and that a more equitable form of power sharing, that
would still allow most of the acquired positions and interests, would
be worth a lot more than trying to hold out indefinitely and risk losing
everything.
Supposing that the TPLF reaches
an agreement on a mode of succession – both a mechanism and a person – it will
be obliged to get it endorsed by the three other factions within the EPRDF. Two should logically attempt to seize this opportunity to try to shift the
balance of power in their favour. First, there are the Oromos, subjugated
during the imperial conquests, then practically colonised until Haïle Selasse
was overthrown, and now permeated by an increasingly marked sense of identity,
that the regime has dubbed “narrow
nationalism” and that poses the greatest threat to it. Then there are the
Amharas. This was the dominant ethnic group during the entire imperial era. It
is within this group that the most vigorous opposition to ethnic federalism is
to be found, alongside the hope of re-establishing a form of “Ethiopianism” that transcends ethnic
diversity. The regime made it pay a high price for its former domination and
has disqualified its aspirations as “chauvinist”
and “vindictive”.
But what cards do these two
factions hold in the succession stakes?
The intrinsic weight of the two parties representing these two ethnic
groups has been reduced considerably by the hold the TPLF has over them, at
least up until now, depriving them of any significant claim to be truly
representative.
So the edifice of power is
completely turned in on itself in all sectors. But this brings with it the risk
that, if there is indeed a battle for succession, the long stifled, but
well-founded demands and aspirations will bubble over if they are not taken
into account. The regime was so aware of this risk that its worst fear – that the “Arab Spring” would spread – led them to crack down even further on any
dissenting voices.
But the first concern of tens of
millions of Ethiopians when they get up in the morning is whether or not they
will have enough to eat that day. They are frightened of the disturbances and
insecurity, not to say the chaos that could follow. Their very survival would
be at stake. Also, after centuries of subjugation, they still see it as
inconceivable that they could have any say in politics, especially at the top:
“The King who rules is my King”, as the saying goes.
This alienation is attenuated
and even disappears altogether as one enters the new middle class. But this
class is not homogeneous and is divided by contradictory attitudes – between frustration and satisfaction, desire and fear of change. It knows
that its rise is precarious, and to a great extent is dependent on economic
growth that any kind of “disorder” could wipe out. Some feel proud of
the country’s economic progress or Meles’ standing on the international scene, but others – and sometimes they are the
same people – are hoping for radical changes. The arrogance, authoritarianism
and omnipresence of the regime are increasingly being rejected, as this kind of
behaviour could put a stop to their socioeconomic ascension. Particularly hard
to swallow is the regime’s obsession with control, which leads to the
self-appointed and permanent right to intrude on daily life, as well as the
allegiance they have to constantly show, and the almost forced membership of
the party – that now has some five million members – if they want to protect
themselves or improve their prospects. In the eyes of their critics, these
constraints are a heritage of an age-old archaic Ethiopia that they are sorry
about, whereas its democratisation would be a major proof of its entry into the
modern world.
This spirit of non-compliance
that is running through part of this middle class is fuelling the same kind of
hitherto stifled discontent that, as we have seen in so many other countries,
can be a major lever to bring down authoritarian regimes. But it is being
undermined by two major handicaps. The
“civil society” has absolutely no autonomy. Its only organisations are those
that remain within the party orbit, as it does not tolerate that independent
organisations assert themselves. And while there are widespread hopes for a
change, the barrier of fear soon begins to loom. The spectre of the repression
that followed the 2005 elections –
almost 200 dead, 30,000 arrested and deported – still haunts peoples’
minds. Everyone knows that the regime would not hesitate in the least to do it
again, hence the question being asked by several dissenters, “who will dare
to be the first to go and get himself killed?”
Does this mean to say that any
possible succession process could only go on behind closed doors within the
circles of power? This is likely, unless they move into an acute and open state
of crisis, in other words acted out in public. In this case, the precedent of
the 2005 elections should be borne in mind, when the regime lifted the lid off
the cauldron. No one could have predicted the scale of the burst of popular
reaction that this slackness would allow, leading to the opposition
breakthrough.
One final remark: this analysis
does not mention the parliamentary opposition or the international community.
The former has been wiped out, as evident by the single seat it holds in a
house with 537 members. It does not seem to have the wherewithal to influence the power play
for succession. The latter will be kept out of the way, as the
Ethiopian leaders are too haughtily nationalistic to accept the least
interference in their affairs. Even so, what is at stake is no mean affair.[12] It not
only concerns the second most highly populated country in Africa – with 86
million inhabitants – but also a Horn of Africa that is in the midst of
turmoil. Somalia is the archetype of the “failed state” and a battleground
against one branch of Al Quaida and the Sudan and the brand new South Sudan have a
very long way to go before they manage to live side by side. At the very heart
of the Horn, Ethiopia is by far the dominant power, and a very reliable western
ally in the fight against radical Islam. At least up to now, compared to
its neighbours, it is a haven of stability.
The TPLF has never envisaged any
form of power-sharing compromise.[13] Not during the 1991 conference which gathered
opposition forces to organize the post Mengistu regime, nor after the 2005
elections, when the opposition had nevertheless suggested it, nor at any other
moment up to now. The possibility of Meles’ succession offers a new
opportunity. Will the Front seize it? Many Ethiopians would like to see it, many also
fear the risks it would involve, and few expect it to happen.
Notes
[1] VOA and
AFP, 19 July 2012.
[2] BBC, 1
August 2012.
[3] See
http://open.salon.com/blog/almariam/2012/07/29/ethiopia_in_constitutional_crises
[4] It reached
39% in November 2011, 50% for food (Reuters, 11 December 2011).
[8]
Jean-François Bayart, 2008, Le concept de
situation thermidorienne: régimes néo-révolutionnaires etlibéralisationéconomique, Question de recherche.
[9] AFP, 20
July 2012. But appearances can be deceptive… During the 2001 crisis, the
central committee of the TPLF sat night and day for a month without anyone
outside knowing about it
[10] The
Economist, 4 August 2012.
[11] Following
the opposition breakthrough in 2005, some Tigrean
high-level officials told the author that “if the opposition wants power,
let them start to make as many sacrifices as those we have had to endure».
[12]
Bizarrely, the disappearance of Meles has so far
hardly been mentioned in the international media.
[13] It is
highly significant that the concept of compromise does not exist in Tigrinya,
or in Amharic, the country’s official language.
