Emerging Spaces for Debating Africa & the Global South
Usman A. Tar & Shiraz Durrani
As reported in recent issues of this journal (ROAPE 110 and 111), there has been phenomenal blossoming of scholarly and policy focus on Africa and other marginalised regions of the world. In intellectual circles, this has ‘spread beyond the normal confines of “Africanist“ publications with a substantial amount of comment and analysis reaching more generalist readership’ (Brown, 2006:111). In this article, we note that while some events – in particular, those that seek to portray the West as ‘benevolent’ – are grandiosely publicised (e.g. G8 Summits, theLive8 ‘Make Poverty History’ concert and so on), others are relatively less publicised – for instance, anti-globali-sation events such the World Social Forum – understandably because they seek to challenge predominant modes of thinking and ideology. Our focus is on the latter which we note is conquering greater public and intellectual imaginations. We argue that these novel spaces are now drawing attention to fundamental issues that are less recognised, indeed avoided, in mainstream spaces.
On 25 April 2007, the Department of Applied Social Sciences (DASS) at the London Metropolitan University hosted a Workshop on the theme Trade Unions, Democracy and Working Class Struggles in Africa. The event was attended by more than 45 people both from within the University as well as external academic and community groups. Three speakers delivered unusual but provocative pa-pers.1 A Press Statement released shortly after the event states its background and raison d'etre:
The attention of the world is increasingly drawn to Africa with its vast resources and the continent's inability to match the growth in other regions such as South and East Asia. The 1960s saw independence from colonialism in many African countries with many hopes of a new era of growth and development. There was an expectation that working class and trade union movements would join hands with political movements and strengthen democracy and development. An in-depth look at the forces that the working class represent was the theme of the latest in the increasingly popular series of debates and lectures organised by the Department of Applied Social Sciences of London Metropolitan University (DASS, 2007).
This event is part of a wider programme designed by DASS to provide a muchneeded space for debating matters of class struggles, inequality and exploitation – not only in Africa, but throughout the world. This is a welcome development in a world dominated by neoliberalism where ‘left thinking’ has been marginalised. In this article, we argue that the DASS event and similar forums organised throughout the world are a novel attempt in intellectual circles to focus on how social forces in the global South are coming to terms with the challenges of neo-liberal globalisation, democratisation and development. However, emerging debates should not be divorced from previous historical, intellectual projects, particularly those that flourished during the Cold War.
Neo-liberalism, Globalisation, ICT & the Rise of Critical Voices
It is misleading to claim that scholarly interest in Africa is a new phenomenon; scholars and policy makers have always debated on almost every issue ranging from state-building to primitive accumulation. Consider, for instance, the stockpiles of ideas generated during Cold War – there is more than enough to read!However, given the changing mutations of ideas and political ideologies that frame them (for instance from ‘liberalism vs. communism’ or ‘bipolarity’ before 1989 to ‘neo-liberalism’, ‘unipolarity’ and ‘globalisation’ thereafter), it is impossible for scholars and politicians to remain captive to old ideas. Nevertheless, it is important to acknowledge the roots (including eccentric flavours) of current ideas and movement in previous ones. For instance, much earlier, scholars engaged with trade union movements in Africa (the theme of the DASS event), in rigorous and productive ways. Key examples include D. I. Davies (1966) on African Trade Unions and Robin Cohen and Richard Sandbrook (1975) on The Development of an African Working Class: Studies in Class Formation and Action . This latter book contained thirteen chapters grouped into three parts: a) initial stirrings of working class consciousness, b) contemporary workers’ organisations and c) contemporary action (resistance).3 The key point that emerges from these two examples is that there is a common thread that runs across previous and current attempts in debating Africa.
The DASS event earlier alluded to cannot be divorced from the current radical forums, particularly amongst Southern scholars and activists seeking to proactively engage, even confront and deconstruct the painful challenges posed by globalisation and neoimperialism on lives and livelihoods of subaltern social forces and groups in developing countries. This is indeed an incremental stride aimed at empowering local peoples – those at the receiving end of elitecentred policies nurtured at all centres of global capitalist power: metropolitan (London, Washington, Seattle, Paris, New York, Gleneagles) and/or peripheral (Johannesburg, Abuja, Delhi, Rio de Janeiro) – and reinforcing their visions and struggles. There is a need to contextualise the current intellectual and policy terrains, and the emergence of radical voices seeking to ‘talk truth to power’, share experiences and forge alliances on issues of exploitation, inequality, class struggles.
The marginalisation of critical thought in the aftermath of Washington Consensus – a world riven with neo-liberal dogmaand policies with all their repressive tendencies – has no doubt thwarted any genuine alternatives to these very same ‘ideas’ – particularly those which are seen to be apologetic of ‘left’ ideology and, therefore, treacherous to the internationalisation of liberal idealism. As Harrsion (2005:1303) notes:
Neo-liberalism has fully settled into our lexicon of concepts for making sense of Africa's (and global Southern) development over the past 20 years … neoliberalism emerged as a synonym for the mainly externally directed attempt to remove the state from the economy.
In achieving these ends, the centres of global capital (Western governments; bilateral and multilateral donor agencies etc.), have sought to deploy, both by design and default, a number of repressive tools, including the marginalisation of the so-called ‘anti-establishment’ forces (such as labour movements) regardless of their contribution to the ideals of ‘democracy’ (however defined), and the contingent empowerment of ‘state’ or ‘civil society’ (a strategy of convenience, defined by how far either the state or civil society promote the expansion of market capitalism). This has created a ‘contradiction between the so-called “democratic claims“ of the neo-liberal agenda and the autocratic approach adopted by powerful countries and institutions behind it’ (Tar, 2006:76). The contradictions of neo-liberalism and, by extension, mainstream capitalism are embedded in its logic:
Neo-liberalism aspires, in its ideology and practice, to intensify the abstractions inherent in capitalism itself: to separate labour power from its human context, to replace society with the market, to build a universe out of aggregated transactions (Comaroff & Comaroff, 2000:305).
The DASS lecture series aspire to confront the endangerment of alternative ideas inherent in the logic of neo-liberal capitalism. In particular, it aims to give voice to those silenced by this logic through new communication technologies:
to highlight the contribution of leaders, movements and ideas that have shaped the world. Many of these have been forgotten, marginalised or deliberately hidden from public view. People everywhere are increasingly using new possibilities created by forces of Information and Communications Technologies to liberate their minds and using alternative ideas to shape a new world where people are at peace with each other . Information about emerging ideas and social movements around the world can now be shared instantaneously (DASS, 2007, our emphasis).
In a rapidly changing world, the DASS debates and lectures aim to create a place to think, debate and develop ideas so as to raise awareness about issues and ideas that are changing the face of the world today:
we believe that it is only when our horizons are broadened that we can hope to meet the challenges we all face today – at social, environmental and political levels. It is only when scientific ideas shape our thinking that we can create a world at peace with itself (DASS, Ibid.).
DASS's critical but innovative stance (see also Durrani, 2007:187-200) is not an isolated event. For instance, in 2001 (5-6 October) the Department of Latin American and Caribbean Studies (LACS) and the Centre for Latino, Latin American and Caribbean Studies (CELAC) at the State University of New York, Albany organised a similar conference on Workers and Democratisation in Americas: Shifting Productive Structures, Social Identities and Labour Strategies. The organisers of this conference argue that:
Globalisation has brought about increasing levels of social vulnerability for the majority of Latin American workers. Yet, at the same time – through firm relocations, internationalised production and distribution networks, increased flows of capital, commodities and labour, international trade/investment agreements, and crossborder solidarity campaigns, globalisation is also increasing the interconnectedness of North, Central, South, and Caribbean societies and social actors. 4
The geographic emphasis of DASS and others cover the three most marginalised and deprived regions of the world – Africa, Asia and Latin America – which are, nevertheless, striving to play an increasingly important part in the 21st century – both materially as well as in terms of science, arts, culture, ideas and ethics. They are also coming to terms with massive technological challenges invented mainly in Europe and North America. The point is, that with increasing internal and external contradictions facing these societies, a new creativity can be seen everywhere. New ideas are being forged in fierce debates at universities, factories, workplaces, on the air waves, in the media and on the streets.
Another point is that, in spite of concerns about ‘digital divides’ (see e.g. Ya'u, 2004; Thomson, 2004), globalisation and information technology have paradoxically made it possible to forge ties beyond traditional boundaries, and create forums for discussing issues of public concern whether or not they are palatable to the powers that be. Throughout the world, a variety of forums have mushroomed to provide space for critical discussion and to protest against exploitative policies. A few examples are worth mentioning here:
1) Transnational Networks such as The World Social Forum formed by civil society groups in the global South to protest the ills of neo-liberal globalisation, to share experiences and narratives, and forge collaborative networks to confront a common enemy.
2) The World Movement for Democracy, formed in Durban, South Africa to reflect on democracy and inclusion, share expertise and experience in democracy promotion and build strategies on solidarity (see Adbul-Raheem, 2006 & Bujra, 2006 for first-hand reflections on recent meetings of the World Social Forum).
3) Virtual Networks promoted through instantaneous facility for communication and political action provided by the internet. A key example is the Pambazuka News : ‘the authoritative pan-African electronic weekly newsletter and platform for social justice in Africa’ is creating a new space in two ways: first is its wide perspective which encompasses the whole of Africa; second, it takes an unashamedly Pan-African perspective ‘for progressive social change in Africa’. For the first time a new voice has emerged championing the rights of working people in Africa. It carries insight into issues that the traditional Western-based media do not deal with; for example, the greed for oil that is fuelling the ‘wars’ in Somalia and Sudan.
4) Intellectual Networks are closely related to those identified above, but is also a domain in its own right because actors within it survive by argument and philosophy. To them, all human phenomena are subject of investigation. By intellectuals we mean those engaged on issues of human good. Though they are by no means united, there is a significant scope for unity amongst many with shared political values; for instance, networks of radical scholars or die-hard academics who have participated actively in the ideological struggles of the Cold War era, as well as young academics who are waking up to the adverse effects of neo-liberalism. No doubt, radical intellectuals (and their formal and informal networks) represent the most resilient, but also highly divided, of all anti-capitalist and anti-establishment forces. Key examples of radical intellectual forums include scholarly societies and publications such as the Review of African Political Economy , an activist journal seeking to combine political activism with intellectual debate, and think-tanks such as The Third World Forum based in Dakar, Senegal.
5) Media Networkssuch as Al-Jazeera have sought to provide both a rallying point for anti-establishment voices, and a countervailing space for news and documentaries that are contrary to, or critical of, those perpetuated by mainstream western media houses like Cable News Network (CNN), Voice of America (VOA), American Broadcasting Corporation (ABC), The Times , Foreign Affairs , and Canadian Broadcasting Corporation (CBD).
Trade Unions, Democracy & Popular Struggles in Africa
This section gives account of the DASS event in which the authors of this article were closely involved. A rationale for this reflective account is to provide a first-hand description of how issues of democracy and popular struggles are increasingly pushed to the core of intellectual and policy discussion, and how the plight of subaltern classes – in particular, their struggles for livelihoods and inclusion – are attracting growing attention.
The evening started with a warm welcome by Prof. John Gabriel, Head of the Department of Applied Social Sciences. The first presenter, Chris Coates, gave presentation on the massive collection of Trade Union Congress (TUC) collections at London Metropolitan University dating back to the colonial period. She highlighted the rich archival materials – newsletters, correspondence, and books – as well as classified colonial docu-ments relating to trade unions in Africa. The visual and graphic images and resources highlighted in the power point presentation vividly demonstrated the hardships encountered by African trade union movements, and the popular forces they represent, in colonial Nigeria, Gold Coast, Tanganyika, Kenya, South Africa, Zambia and Zimbabwe among others, at the turn of the 20th century. The presentation included what were then classified colonial documents relating to incarceration of labour leaders, including hints of ‘jungle justice’, such as documents on the kangaroo trial of labour activists – as issue raised by Rattansi in a subsequent presentation.
The second presentation by Usman Tar dwelt on the need to understand the materialist foundation of organised labour and democratic struggles in Nigeria and Africa at large. Tar's paper, based on an ethnographic research carried out in Nigeria, examined the contested relationship between the state and ‘civil society’ (in its aspect as organised labour) in the country's democratisation. The paper drew attention to the need to understand the relationships in terms of state-society confrontations and struggles – that is, the materialist and existential factors beneath an appearance of anti-state and democratic struggles staged by labour movements, identified in Nigeria as the earliest and the most enduring veterans of the struggles. The Nigerian labour movement is arguably one of the most developed, but also divided and hierarchical, social movement in Africa. Its consistent but controversial profile in engaging the state on a wide range of issues – workers rights, public welfare, human rights, democratisation etc – has been characterised by both success and failure. Nevertheless, he argued, the Nigerian labour was/is certainly at the forefront of socio-eco-nomic and pro-democracy struggles. He also argued that the state – both during military rule and civilian democratic era – played a key role in reproducing socio-economic and political inequality and generating, in the process, anti-state, anti-hegemonic activity from the labour movement. In so doing, the Nigerian state simultaneously rewarded pro-state elements and castigated progressive elements within the rank of labour movement. Where necessary, the state invented repressive laws to impose ‘order’. In confronting difficult circumstances created by the repressive state – structural adjustment, retrenchment and militarism – the Nigerian Labour Movement demonstrated both organisational strength and weakness, whilst also forging difficult alliances with ‘liberal’ NGOs in confronting a common enemy – the state.
While accepting the difficulties facing the trade union movement in Nigeria, Tar traced the role played by organised working class in Nigeria's search for democracy. While there was some support of the labour movement, others joined the liberal bandwagon of NGOisation. Too often, the two (labour and NGOs) have joined forces in confronting repressive policies of the military state. With a membership of four million, the trade union movement in Nigeria is a powerful force in the struggle for genuine democracy in the most populous country in Africa. Tar, however, urged caution in explaining the real problems facing this sector: almost 50% of Nigerians live on less than $1 a day. Another key factor is limited funding: the only ‘credible’ source of revenue for the labour movement are membership dues (sadly, this too is regulated by the state and employer organisations). With the state then subsidising unions, power often goes to the state and the trade unions are thus not able to achieve full autonomy to struggle for workers’ rights. Added to this are other divisive conflicts within the membership of trade unions: religious and ethnic differences (a common trend in Africa). This places a huge restriction on the ability of unions to present a formidable front for engaging the state on democracy and social welfare.
The third talk by Prof. Piyo Rattansi on the life and times of Makhan Singh and the trade union movement in Kenya, drew from Rattansi's personal reflection (being a contemporary of Singh) and on the biography of Makhan Singh written by Zarina Patel as well as on Makhan Singh's own personal and unique records. Prof. Rattansi highlighted the strength of the trade union movement in Kenya as a force that was instrumental in Kenya's achievement of independence. He went on to explain how the changes in legislation brought about by the government of independent Kenya weakened trade unions as a social force. Makhan Singh himself stands out as a giant who almost single-handedly built a powerful trade union movement which transcended racial, religious and other divisions and built up a nationwide trade union movement which influenced working class organisations in Tanganyika and Uganda.
Singh's personal history is a reflection of despair and tribulation, a common fate of labour leaders and activists throughout the continent. Singh spent five years in colonial prisons in India (1940-1945) and, soon thereafter, was jailed in Kenya for trumped-up charges of treason and incitement, but in reality for his staunch anti-colonial stance. The colonial authorities saw him as a dangerous socialist with infectious ideas – a suspicion that was somewhat nursed by Singh's ‘lesser’ comrades after independence! Sadly, after independence, Makhan Singh was to be sidelined by the Kenyatta government because of his legendary hard-core communism, anti-imperialism, anti-materialism and modesty which Kenyatta and his fellow anti-colonialists-turned-bourgeosie could not tolerate. On his death, his son said, ‘my father died of frustration and despair [that independence turned out to be such a sham]’ (cited in Rattansi, 2007).
A lively discussion followed the presentations. Key issues included the need to refocus attention not only on class analysis of the struggles of African people but a need to develop a new understanding of class relations, class struggles and the anti-imperialist struggles in Africa today. Implicit in these discussions was the need to collect and document its histories of trade union and working class struggles. Disseminating information about the achievements of great African leaders such as Makhan Singh was also considered a possible role of the research community. The need for continuing such debates was the main message emerging from the discussion. This was also the conclusion of an earlier DASS debate and discussion session which had asked for a conference on African progressive themes. A need for international solidarity was underlined by a presentation by Naila Durrani on the ‘Save Afzal Guru Campaign’ on behalf of the South Asia Solidarity Group.5
Conclusion
While globalisation, neo-liberalism and ICT have adverse effects on marginalised classes in Africa and the global South, they have fortuitously given rise to the much-needed space for engaging issues of democracy, inclusivity and popular struggles. Apparently, this is a case of ‘actually existing civil society’ re-invent-ing novel spaces and popular forums for engaging poverty, exclusion, human rights violation, abuse of power, environmental pollution etc. (see Obadare, 2006:93-111, written in the context of Nigeria). The development has to be seen in terms of the difficulties and challenges posed by neo-imperialism parading as a benign force for good, while in reality it is the very source of inequality, poverty and, above all, intellectual and policy autarchy of immense proportions.
The DASS programme is a brave and crucial initiative in a tyrannical world. Nevertheless, its achievements remain modest in terms of providing a muchneeded space for debating matters of exploitation and inequality yet still faces many challenges. The first constraint is limited funding given the reality of shortages at universities; a second limitation is a dwindling interest in the discussion of ‘class’ in the UK which has faced increasing marketisation of services in the economic sphere. At the political level, the space for open debate and discussion has been reduced following the invasion of Iraq. Successive legislation has reduced civic liberties. But these economic and political factors have, at the same time, increased people's thirst for greater awareness and debate on issues that they may not have been interested in, in the past. If there is a positive aspect of the war on Iraq, it is that it has politicised many people in Britain and the US. Progressive people have continued to have their say on political, social and ethical issues. They are taking advantage of the new possibilities opened up by technological developments. They are making increasing use of the internet, emails, chatrooms, listservers, blogs, Youtube etc. to create new communities of resistance and change.
Usman A. Tar is a doctoral graduate of the University of Bradford and is on leave of absence from the Department of Political Science at the University of Maiduguri, Nigeria; e-mail: usmantar1@123456gmail.com; Shiraz Durrani is a Senior Lecturer at the Department of Applied Social Sciences London Metropolitan University. He is the author of Never be silent; publishing and imperialism in Kenya, 1884-1963 (2006); e-mail: s.durrani@123456londonmet.ac.uk. We are grateful to Janet Bujra for making a constructive input on initial drafts of this paper.
Pro-poor Budgeting & South Africa's ‘Developmental State’: the 2007-08 National Budget
Peter T. Jacobs
South African policy makers nowadays phrase their policies in the ‘developmental state’ discourse, thus following President Thabo Mbeki who is the leading advocate of this notion. Allies of the ruling African National Congress (ANC) in the Communist Party (SACP) and the Congress of South African Trade Unions (COSATU) specifically support the pro-poor thrust of this discourse. Official statements and documents explaining the importance of the ‘developmental state’ to combat South Africa's high levels of poverty and unemployment extensively cite the East Asian success stories. However, a closer examination of this embrace of the ‘developmental state’ reveals an uncritical adoption and ambivalent understanding of a concept that is ostensibly propoor. To understand this ‘new’ discourse and what it means in concrete anti-poverty actions on the part of the state, we critically appraise the pro-poor elements articulated in the 2007-08 national budget.
In the brief historical period since the end of apartheid in 1994, South Africa's overarching socio-economic development policy has traversed full circle. At least until 1996, the democratically elected government openly adhered to a stateled development path as outlined in its Reconstruction and Development Programme (RDP). This orientation was effectively displaced by the Growth Employment and Redistribution (GEAR) macro-economic policy, signaling that the post-apartheid state had now opted for the globally hegemonic market-led approach. Against this broad historical backdrop, the recent turn to the ‘developmental state’ is upheld as a break from the past.
Each ‘new’ economic development policy dictates the type of strategies to be employed to ‘create a better life for all’, to echo a slogan popularised by the ANC. This implies that the public budget, a crucial redistributive instrument to achieve this outcome, is shaped by the type of macro-level economic policy guiding the state. In this context, what evidence can be gleaned from the 2007-08 national budget reflecting the ‘developmental state’ discourse prominent in policymaking and ruling party circles? This brief essay addresses this question. Before critically reviewing pertinent elements of the 2007-08 national budget, specifically evaluating its pro-poor claims, we offer a snapshot of the broad trajectory of post-apartheid economic development policies. This contextual discussion is essential to understand the reasons for our observation that the postapartheid finance minister continues to fall short of pro-poor budgeting.
Post-apartheid Economic Development Policy & Public Budgets
Apartheid institutionalised racial discrimination and spatial segregation against blacks. Under this political regime, blacks were denied political rights despite being the majority of the coun-try's population. Laws forced black people to live in underdeveloped rural and urban locations. They thus became the victims of unemployment, landlessness and woefully low living standards in Africa's wealthiest country. The extension of political rights to the black majority in 1994 inaugurated an end to legal apartheid. This new political dispensation, in turn, opened prospects to uproot ‘economic apartheid’ and raise the living standards of the black majority. In its election manifesto, the RDP, the ANC underscored the needs of the black majority that the post-apartheid state ought to address within the context of macroeconomic instability and underdevelopment. The RDP spelled out multiple redistributive targets and strategies, ranging from land reform to better provision of healthcare and education, to be met if the economy is to grow. Within this ‘growth through redistribution’ framework the state favoured a Keynesianstyle expansionary fiscal stance, emphasising redistributive state spending. However, as numerous critics later pointed out, the RDP was seriously under-funded, became the job of some marginal ‘ministry’ and lacked an explicit growth strategy. When the RDP office was eventually closed down, the black majority continued to live in abject misery, without land or secure jobs.
In 1996 the GEAR effectively replaced the RDP. In this new framework the emphasis switched to the need to ensure growth which should, at least in theory, enable post-apartheid South Africa to achieve its redistribution targets. To place the economy on a robust long run growth path, markets had to be liberalised including greater labour market flexibility by ‘getting prices right’. The GEAR also prescribed a smaller role for the state in the economy to be achieved through the privatisation of state owned assets and other contractionary fiscal policies. Despite sparking tensions between the ANC and its allies in COSATU and the South African Communist Party, this neo-lib-eral macroeconomic policy continued to guide the post-apartheid state. While the GEAR helped to control the budget deficit or inflation targets, its accelerated privatisation drive did not materialise in significant foreign direct investment. There is no credible evidence to show if the fragile growth and ‘macro stability’ of recent years resulted from GEAR or fortuitous exogenous factors (state of the global economy, for example). What is clear is that since 1994, job creation and access to essential social services for the vast majority of blacks in rural and urban areas has not improved.
In 2004 the country celebrated its first decade after apartheid. National elections were held at that time in which the ruling party convincingly triumphed over its rivals, capturing two-thirds of all votes. While the country has been transformed into a stable democracy in the first decade after apartheid, it was also acknowledged that extraordinary efforts were required on the part of the state to raise living standards among the rural and urban poor. Government had, in the mean time, endorsed the Millennium Development Goals of the United Nations and made the next ten years the ‘decade of delivery’. In addition to a renewed commitment to delivery targets for education, healthcare, housing, jobs, land and so forth, government evidently started turning towards a more a stateled development model.
When the ANC held its mid-term policy conference in 2005, the party circulated a discussion document titled ‘Development and Underdevelopment’ (ANC, 2005). This insightful statement on rethinking of economic development policy underway within the ruling party, purportedly drafted by the deputy finance minister, forcefully made the case for a ‘developmental state’. Robust ‘developmental states’, the paper argued, were key facilitators in East Asia's surge to the global industrial and technological frontier. The idea that resonated with the party faithful was that ‘late developers’ such as South Africa need to replicate what appeared to be a successful industrial development model. President Thabo Mbeki in his 2006 State of the Nation address underscored this notion of a developmental state. In this speech he also launched the Accelerated and Shared Growth Initiative for South Africa (ASGISA), ostensibly codifying the developmental role of the state in job creation and attacking poverty.1 Nevertheless, a virtual silence prevailed within the tripartite alliance on many contextual specificities and critical analyses of that ‘developmental state’ model which the 2005 discussion paper simply ignored. What leftists in the alliance attacked quite fiercely in the ‘Development and Underdevelopment’ paper was its proposal for a dual labour market, effectively allowing companies enormous flexibility to hire and fire younger workers. These debates suggest that South Afri-ca's embrace of the ‘developmental state’ discourse has not been free of contradictions and contestation. A clear conceptualisation of the developmental state is lacking, specifically the mechanisms through which public budgets can assist to bridge underdevelopment and improve living standards.
Traditionally, the state in a developing country was considered developmental if its intervention in the economy was directed at ‘industrial and technological catching-up’. A developmental state invests public resources and offers incentives to indigenous business classes to build industrial and technological niche sectors. The reasons for this industrial bias stem from the microeconomics of industrial production and intensified competition inherent in globalisation. At a microeconomic level these are dynamic sectors characterised by economies of scale in production and large positive spillovers to other sectors in the economy. The surge in economic growth and higher incomes generated as the economy is catching up to some global technological frontier, in turn, will create jobs and improve living standards. Thus this model is little different from the trickle down development promised in mainstream economic theory.
In addition to this industrial bias, a patriotic and corruption-free public bureaucracy is required to craft enabling industrial, fiscal and other economic policies. State bureaucrats will use industrial policy and the public budget to enhance the competitive edge of the domestic private sector, such as in South Korea and Taiwan for instance. Developmental states grow even more indispensable as poorer economies are more integrated into global trade, capital flows and migration. Globalisation implies more intense competition and compels every firm to engage in ongoing industrial and technological innovation. But this, in turn, requires heavy state investment in ‘knowledge-based assets and technological capabilities’ to complement learning-by-doing interventions by the private business sector. To catch-up and stay competitive in this global economic milieu, poorer countries need stronger developmental states. This popular model of the developmental state only outlines two mechanisms of development: the state and a high-tech-industrial sector. It basically amounts to an ‘alliance between selected business elites and state technocrats’ to erect a dynamic industrial sector.
Strong developmental states, according to this political economy model of catch-ing-up to the world technological frontier, facilitated the remarkable structural change in South Korea and Taiwan. This institution enabled these countries, developmental state theorists assert, to: invest in high-tech education and skills; subsidise R&D spending and all layers of science and technology; craft an industrial structure based on national conglomerates; and speed-up recovery form macroeconomic instability (1997–1999 financial crisis) among other things. Social indicators of development (poverty, inequality, etc), on the other hand, rarely feature in this narrow obsession with technological transformation. Both South Korea and Taiwan, furthermore, developed under the iron-heel of brutal dictatorships propped-up with American assistance for several decades due to geo-strategic shifts in the post World War Two era. In the context of the Cold War, it was imperative to build a cordon of states to contain and roll back the influence of ‘communism’ resonating across the region due to the 1949 Chinese revolution and the Vietnam War. But today, China's stellar growth, coupled with its formidable weight in key spheres of globalisation, has finally eclipsed the once admirable developmental state model. Although an appraisal of Chi-na's development trajectory goes beyond this brief essay, empirical studies suggest that its high growth is coming at the expense of social development and the environment. To understand why even the ‘old developmental state’ model failed to address the social and ecological dimensions of development, it is necessary to probe deeper than the sectoral and state-level analysis.
Developmental state theorists ignore questions about the systemic base on which countries need to industrialise. Yet the systemic mechanisms, market exchange and private accumulation, in the final analysis set the limits on whatever development may occur. This third mechanism, the nature of the economic system, is the main engine of economic development. Developmental state theorists implicitly accept that because markets and private accumulation drive industrial dynamism, governments must adopt and implement policies that best serve capitalism. However, recent evidence shows that deepening market exchange and private accumulation, whether regulated or unregulated, actually exacerbate inequality, poverty and unemployment. This type of economic system undermines sustainable development and is responsible for a growing share of ecological destruction. Furthermore, any rigorous scientific explanation of why East Asian developmental states succumbed to devastating crises in 1997–99 will investigate the role of these systemic forces. Explicitly accounting for this third mechanism of developmental states, its hidden Achilles heel, has major implications for fiscal policy, specifically pro-poor budgeting. The developmental state uses its budget to redistribute public resources to ‘patriotic investors’. Direct pro-poor budgeting gets subjected to budgeting to develop capitalism. This model of the developmental state underpins South Africa's 2007-08 budget despite contrary claims from leading government officials.
The First Budget Surplus
On 21 February 2007 the minister of finance presented his plans to raise and spend public income in the year ahead. This budget speech came two weeks after President Mbeki's 2007 State of the Nation address from which the finance minister took his lead in terms of tone and broad political thrust. Both men celebrated recent improvements in economic growth and boldly proclaimed that the country is winning the war on poverty and unemployment. Where delivery was still short of targets, capacity constraints need to be overcome through volunteerism, privatisation and so forth – all to build a nation based on ‘socialsolidarity’. Media highlights of the 2007–08 budget were the first time budget surplus, more corporate tax breaks, infrastructural and social spending and a poverty line. How poor people stand to benefit from these budget priorities is unclear.
The minister gave generous handouts to both rich and poor individuals, carefully balancing the competing priorities of the state and our nation. At the same time, he has delivered the country's first budget surplus – a rare feat. Compared to last year's (2006–07) budget, when he targeted a deficit of 3.1% of GDP but actually capped the deficit at 0.5%, this year marks a remarkable achievement. This milestone in Trevor Manuel's career earned him worldwide praise and makes him a topnotch finance minister in the world today. It is a significant achievement given that Mr Manuel's counterparts in wealthier countries just pile up huge budget deficits instead of hitting their ‘balanced budget’ targets.
It therefore came as no surprise that the projected surplus of government income over its expenses in the 2007–08 budget attracted such widespread attention. In the year ahead, the national govern-ment's income will be in the order of R545bn2 (28.1% of GDP) mainly derived from different taxes. National state spending over this period will be around R534bn (27.5% of GDP) with the bulk of this money going to social services (health, education, welfare grants, infrastructure, etc). Thus the budget surplus of roughly 0.6% of gross domestic product which the nation's treasurer plans to fairly split between the haves (more tax cuts) and have-nots (more social spending). In this way, the finance minister said, he was helping to construct a society based on ‘social solidarity’ where the rich and poor ought to live in perfect harmony.
Economic Growth, Public Revenue & Budget Surplus
The three main reasons cited for the country's budget surplus were economic growth, a more efficient tax collection system and agency, and reduced expenditure. But the economic logic that links each determinant and the budget surplus is complex and often contradictory. It is far from straightforward. Take the hypothesis that the budget surplus is basically the product of the country's robust economic health. South Africa's economic growth has accelerated over the last three years largely because mining exports are benefiting from China's rapid industrialisation. Another driver of recent growth has been an expansion in luxury consumption among South Africa's old and nouveau riche . The bottom line message is that this fast pace of economic growth is set to continue and thus allow government to gain more income through taxes. Of course, this is only part of the story, as the minister and others have correctly recognised.
Evidently the tax collection agency, SARS, played a critical role in helping to achieve the 2007–08 budget surplus. Indeed, this country's tax collector is known for its tough stance on tax evasion and is lauded for its efficacy in collecting taxes from corporate and individual taxpayers. Confidence in the efficiency of the country's tax collection system and agency is high. Without a well-function-ing SARS, government will not be able to capture the potential tax revenues anticipated from the 6% economic growth target. This is at least the textbook story, but may not hold true in practice.
On the contrary, an examination of concrete facts shows a very complex picture. For example, economic growth was about 4.5% in 2005–06 when SARS collected a tax surplus of R41.5 billion. While the economy grew closer to 5% for 2006–07, surplus tax was in the order of R29 billion – lower by R12bn! In other words, economic growth and efficiency in tax revenue collection are far from being automatic causes of budget surpluses. It is common practice for the treasury to tinker with tax rates and state spending priorities to reach clearly defined budget targets. In the final analysis the minister will push and pull these fiscal levers in line with the country's overarching economic orientation.
Expenditure Cutbacks & Budget Surplus
A way to slash a budget deficit or generate a budget surplus is through sharp cuts in state spending. And state spending has been falling, Minister Manuel lamented, because the different tiers of government, especially at provincial and municipal levels, do not have the capacity to spend their budgets. Total provincial expenditure had topped R161 bn in 2005–06 and it is expected to steadily climb to R222bn in 2008–09. More importantly, although over 75% of this spending is ostensibly covering social services (health, education, etc), this is inadequate to tackle the country's service delivery crisis. Take the derisory increments in health spending for instance. While this has been growing at a rate of 5% per year, the money falls short of what is required to counter the collapse in life-expectancy and block the spread of chronic diseases among the poor. More generally, state provision of essential social services, including water and housing, has diminished or completely collapsed in some areas. As an alternative, the privatisation of service delivery has, in turn, imposed a costrecovery model that has limited access to the few that can afford to pay escalating service charges. In this framework the vast majority of poor people must go without these services once they have used up the tiny state-subsidised quotas.
How has government reacted to its critics who illustrated that the reasons for the countrywide service delivery crises go beyond ‘bureaucratic capacity constraints’? In contrast to Mr Manuel, social movements and some allies of the ruling ANC insisted that the lack of service delivery is a consequence of the state's conservative macroeconomic policies. This has created a standoff between the state and civil society over profound questions of the overall economic philosophy informing state policies. For several years the Peoples Budget Campaign, a coalition in which COSATU and NGOs are key actors, has been lobbying the state to expand social spending and service delivery. To date, however, government has rejected virtually all this coalition's proposals. But cutbacks in social services have also ignited a fresh wave of urban and rural revolts spearheaded by social movements with bases among the unemployed and landless without organisational links to the ruling party alliance. This resistance movement to raise the living standards of all South Africans has been labeled ultra-leftists aiming to sabotage the ‘peaceful transition to democracy’. Government has persecuted and imprisoned these anti-poverty activists.3
Provinces and municipalities have been receiving more money to build stadiums and other infrastructure to host the 2010 soccer world cup. But government's 2010 infrastructure spending spree will further squeeze the cash-strapped local governments and not tackle the coun-try's energy and other crises. In the country's 15 richest and biggest cities, our chief world cup venues, 16% of residents do not have access to safe, clean, affordable and reliable energy according to conservative estimates. With the hasty introduction of regional electricity distributors (REDs), the state is powering ahead with privatising energy. These cities are battling to raise enough money to construct stadiums for the 2010 world cup. This will force municipalities to cover more of their capital expenditure through debt, already overshooting 53% in the 2005–06 fiscal year.
This was precisely what the finance minister instructed provinces to do when the National Treasury released its review of the financial well-being of the provinces in late 2006. At that time Minister Manuel advised: ‘If municipalities are to reinforce their developmental role, the proportion of their capital budgets funded from their own revenue sources needs to increase in the period ahead’4 He was urging provincial fiscal authorities to cover their expenditure through more borrowing (debt) and the stock market – outsourcing and privatisation! In the finance minister's view, municipalities must first serve the interests and dictates of wealthy investors before delivering on their ‘developmental goals’, resurrecting the trite trickledown economic logic. In any case, the frontline beneficiaries of taxpayer's money poured into infrastructure for 2010 will undoubtedly be big construction firms and finance capitalists.
Investor-friendly Welfare Reforms
Viewed in this larger context, Minister Manuel clearly has been budgeting to please the wealthy investor classes. In post-apartheid South Africa, taxes on corporate profits have steeply dropped – from 49% to 29% – to lure investment into the country. And the 2007–08 budget gave companies more lucrative tax breaks – enriching the bourgeoisie at the ex-pense of working people. This investorfriendly budget is even more glaring when looking at the repayment of the apartheid public debt. Mr Manuel prides himself for honouring and speedily repaying the debt of the apartheid regime, lowering it from over 50% in the 1990s to a staggering 26% of GDP in 2006. Scrapping this enormous resource transfer to finance capitalists is not on Minister Manuel's agenda, implying that working people will continue to pay for the crimes of that hated pre–1994 system.
Those with solid faith in capitalism, someone said a long time ago, know how to display the cosmetic attractions of this system to conceal its heinous crimes. These free-market fundamentalists are the best apologists for this system and have mastered the art of mystifying reality. True to this ideology, minister Manuel has presented his investorfriendly 2007–08 budget as if it genuinely intends to better the lives of working people. While promoting an economy based on individual ‘savings and selfreliance’ (capitalist individualism), he also pays lip-service to ‘social solidarity’. For example, Mr Manuel champions an ‘earnings-related social security scheme’ yet rejects even the diluted Basic Income Grant (BIG) proposals of the Peoples Budget Campaign. The so-called ‘wage subsidy for low income earners’ is really aimed at making every job cheaper for companies and may translate into a sliding wages as the cost of living skyrockets. More pro-capitalist welfare reforms are in the pipeline. In fact, national treasury is searching for ways to privatise the state pension system and reduce social welfare rolls.
In his latest budget speech Minister Manuel also kick-started a public debate on a national poverty line which is desperately needed to effectively combat poverty. The Peoples Budget Campaign has welcomed this initiative which should have been at the top of govern-ment's priorities in 1994. But measuring poverty is far from a cold counting exercise. To what extent will the poor actively partake to shape the meaning of poverty? Will a genuine effort be made to attack and uproot the systemic causes of this scourge? If those doing the counting ignore the multiple faces of deprivation, many poor people may be excluded from official numbers and consequently an underestimation of the depth of poverty. This one-sided view or ideological bias in number-crunching is a well-known trick in calculating unemployment figures. In South Africa, for instance, politicians claim that unemployment has rapidly fallen to about 25% from around 40% in the 1990s. But what largely accounts for this astounding drop in unemployment is the inclusion of ‘guesstimates’ on job creation in the expanding ‘informal economy’. And an expanding informal or survivalist sector is hardly a sign of a healthy economy. Hopefully the team of experts picked to help the minister to define a national poverty line will expose the fact that capitalism bears ultimate responsibility for underdevelopment and sliding living standards of the rural and urban poor.
Conclusion
This essay has argued that South African policy makers have uncritically and opportunistically adopted the developmental state discourse. While developmental state theorists are exclusively concerned with how the state can facilitate industrial and technological catchup, they ignore the systemic base of this process. Moreover, they treat the social and ecological dimensions of development in terms of simplistic and flawed ‘trickle down economics’. The ‘concealed third dimension’ of the developmental state, the nature of the economic system, needs to be explicitly accounted for to make sense of the paradox of East Asian developmental states. South Korea and Taiwan, exemplary cases, have achieved miraculous growth rates under the auspices of states that were undemocratic and at the expense of the poor and the environment. In the light of these experiences, fundamental questions must be posed about how developmental states are conceptualised in South Africa's policies and translated into concrete propoor actions on the part of the state. As the chief redistributive instrument, the national budget has been a revealing case study to test the pro-poor claims of South Africa's developmental state advocates.
The surplus in the 2007–08 national budget and sharply lower deficit in the previous year are far from ideologically neutral number-crunching activities. Minister Manuel's bookkeeping is in line with the post-apartheid state's overarching political and socio-economic orientation. This obsession with balanced budgets and surpluses is a core element in the package of neo-liberal or Washington Consensus economic prescriptions. It derives from the deeply entrenched Growth Employment and Redistribution (GEAR) macroeconomic policy adopted in 1996 which is premised on shrinking the size and economic role of the state. The framework that President Mbeki unveiled in his 2006 state of the nation speech, the Accelerated and Shared Growth Initiative for South Africa (ASGISA), reinforces the GEAR perspective. ASGISA basically perpetuates the neo-liberal myth that the war on poverty and unemployment can be won through the expansion of markets and private accumulation of wealth.
Chasing and beating these neo-liberal fiscal targets will not be costless. But who must ultimately bear the burden of ultra conservative public budgets? As noted above, in the real world the linear correlation between economic growth and tax revenues breaks down. What is most likely to happen in practice when a government budgets to win the confidence of wealthy investors is for tax revenues to rise at a falling rate. To balance the budget or generate surpluses in this context, state expenditure must slow down at a faster pace. This means the working poor must endure extra belttightening.
Peter Jacobs lectures at the University of the Western Cape; email: ptjacobs@123456uwc.ac.za
With us or against us? South Africa's Position in the ‘War against Terror’
Jane Duncan
In March 2007, the Secretary of the Media Review Network, Firoz Osman, asked whether South Africa was joining the ‘war against terror’ on behalf of ‘Uncle Sam’.1 This question was posed after a series of incidents where South African terror suspects were ‘fingered’ by the United States (US) administration, and three individuals disappeared, raising fears that the South African authorities had co-operated with US intelligence to have them ‘rendered’ without due process.
These suspicions were heightened in March 2007, when the Director General of Intelligence, Barry Gilder, stated at a press conference that South Africa was a training ground for Muslim terrorists. Gilder also cited numerous incidents where South African passports were found in the possession of Al-Qaeda suspects.2 He stated that while South Africa is not directly threatened with terrorist activity, it may well be a safe haven where international terrorists could lay low. As a result, the South African authorities were tracking the movements of suspects from Pakistan, Somalia, Bangladesh and Jordan.3
Gilder was widely criticised for these comments, for fuelling Islamophobia, and for equating the ‘problem’ of terrorism with Muslims. He was accused of ignoring threats posed by other armed political organisations, such as the white right-wing Boeremag (‘Boer force’). These criticisms, which led to Osman's question, are not without foundation. When his utterances are read together with growing evidence of US renditions on South African soil, and when the process that led up to the development of South Africa's anti-terrorism laws is taken into account, the relevance of Osman's question becomes all too apparent.
Certainly, South Africa would protest that it has made clear its unwillingness to be Uncle Sam's Uncle Tom in Africa. The South African government has condemned the September 11 attacks and other indiscriminate attacks on civilians. However, according to Intelligence Minister Ronnie Kasrils, such attacks should be distinguished sharply from the armed struggles of anti-colonial and national liberation movements, whose activities are morally and legally just:4 a distinction that the US does not make.
According to Kasrils, there is a major qualitative difference between terrorist violence and revolutionary violence. Defining the former as ‘indiscriminate, violent attacks on the civilian population’,5he maintained that such attacks were hardly ever carried out by armed liberation movements, and ran counter to their ethos. Referring to groups who engage in terrorism, rather problematically, as ‘Jihadi movements’, he further argued that
whatever the claims of injustice the leaders, foot soldiers and sympathizers of the amorphous Jihadi movement of today might refer to, we do not see their cause fitting into the liberation paradigm I have referred to … [For such reasons] I would argue that the governments of the subregion, against the backdrop of our liberation struggles and sense of humanity and justice, have found ourselves duty-bound to condemn the atrocities that have paraded under the banner of the Jihadists. 6
He further argues for the need for international co-operation to beef up capacity required to deal with the terrorist threat posed by groups such as Al-Qaeda. He also argued that the Palestinian struggle for self-determination is a just war, and should not be conflated with the terrorism of Al-Qaeda.
Observers of the post-apartheid South African politics may argue that it is rational for South Africa to adopt such a position; after all, the ruling African National Congress (ANC) was itself proscribed as a terrorist organisation after having taken up the armed struggle against the apartheid regime. Given its own history, how could it not be sensitive to the moral and political differences between reactionary and revolutionary violence? The ANC-led government would claim that it has attempted to chart a ‘third way’ in the war against terror, which involves addressing the problem of right-wing violence against civilians, while rejecting the US's approach towards prosecuting the ‘war against terror’.
South Africa has recognised (albeit tacitly) that the US's objectives in its antiterrorism drive are imperialist in nature. In fact, since September 11, the war has mutated beyond focusing on those immediately responsible for these attacks, to include a range of individuals and organisations opposed to US foreign policy. The US has turned the events of September 11 to its advantage to renew its economy through military expansion into oil rich countries. In the process, it has waged oil wars in countries like Iraq in an attempt to achieve its foreign policy objective of gaining control of strategic oil supplies. Those who oppose the application of this foreign policy objective in the Middle East – where the US pumps billions of dollars into the Israeli military as a buffer – are targetted.
Blacklists
The fact that there is not an internationally agreed-on definition of terrorism allows the ‘war against terror’ to target a wide range of people opposed to the US administration. The author of Dining with Terrorists , Phil Rees, has stated that,
The failure to define ‘terrorist’ means that the ‘war on terror’ can be used as a cloak to legitimize American military power because it portrays the challenge as a loosely defined threat that will never disappear. By being able to explain exactly who is a terrorist, the ‘war on terror’ can mutate into a war against any ideology that challenges America and her allies. 7
Which organisations have been targeted in particular? The American and European Union (EU) blacklists have undergone roughly three phases of development in identifying the axis of evil. Initially they listed Al-Qaeda and related organisations and individuals, proceeding to list revolutionary national liberation organisations opposed to American imperialism and the occupation of Palestinian land, such as the Kurdistan Worker's Party (PKK), the ETA in the Basque territories, the Leba-non-based Hizbollah, and the Popular Front for the Liberation of Palestine (PFLP).8 The third phase involves the anti-globalisation and emerging social movements, with the FBI having called for action against left-wing groups ‘who profess a revolutionary socialist doctrine and view themselves as protectors of the people against the dehumanising effects of capitalism and imperialism’.9
However, US foreign policy is shifting attention away from the Middle East to Africa, which is an indication of how the US's foreign policy towards the continent has changed. In 1995, the Department of Defence stated that ‘ultimately we see very little traditional strategic interest in Africa’.10 Since then, five factors have shaped increased US interest in Africa: the prevalence of HIV/AIDs, oil, global trade, armed conflict and the rise of ‘terrorist’ activity. Economic relations between the US and Africa have trebled in fifteen years, leading to the development of the Africa Growth and Opportunity Act (AGOA), focused on optimising extraction of the continent's energy sources.11 In fact, it has been estimated that by 2015, approximately one quarter of the US's oil supplies will be provided by West Africa alone.12
However, the US's accumulation drive in Africa is meeting with resistance, as it has done in other parts of the world. The mounting struggles in the Niger Delta against oil extraction, coupled with the growing threats to US interests in the East and Horn of Africa, have led the US to increase its military presence in Africa. The US had already set up what it calls ‘lily pads’ on various parts of the continent that allows it to prosecute the ‘war against terror’ from strategic locations. However, the US now intends to consolidate its presence on the continent through forming a new unified national security command, Africa Command (Africom), and it further requires a location for its headquarters in Africa. Prexy Nesbitt has commented that:
And when Africans resist as they surely will [against the plunder of Africa's oil], the backup plan is to declare Africans who want to control their own resources ‘terrorists’, and through Africom, deploy US military might to lock down Africans and African resources. 13
Owing to its highly developed military, telecommunications and intelligence infrastructure, US eyes have turned expectantly to South Africa, in spite of the fact that several other countries have expressed interest in bidding for the hosting of Africa Command's headquarters. However, to its credit, the South African government has indicated officially that it will not entertain the possibility of a US military presence on its soil, in spite of the fact that the US considers the government to be a ‘strategic partner’.14
These developments indicate that the ‘war against terror’ is coming closer to home. Does South Africa's official position match up to its unofficial position, and how will it react when tested? The first indication that South Africa may not be as independently-minded as it would like to claim, came when the government attempted to introduce anti-terrorism legislation. South Africa tried for three years to develop anti-terrorism legislation that it could pass without mass opposition, and in the process developed three differences Bills. The first draft was developed in 2000, based on a 1,000 page Law Commission report which considered options for the South African Bill. After an outcry about the repressive nature of the Bill, including from Amnesty International, the government went back to the drawing board and developed another Bill.
The second version was released for public comment in 2002. It was modeled extensively on the Canadian Anti-terror-ism Act of 2001, which was widely opposed in Canada for its draconian provisions and its vague and overbroad definition of ‘terrorist act’. This definition criminalised as a terrorist act virtually anything done for political, religious or ideological reasons as long as such activity results in death or serious bodily harm or disruption of what the state would consider an essential service.
The Canadian Liberal Democratic government attempted at the time to quell discontent with the Bill by promising the public that the Act would not be used to repress dissent. In September 2002, members of a special anti-terrorism police unit raided the homes of prominent first nations activists for supposedly stockpiling weapons, and then proceeded to question them about their political activities. In 2003, the government changed its mind and added Hizbollah to its list of suspects banned under the law, after months of insisting that it was a legitimate national liberation organisation; the about-turn took place after pressure, especially from Zionist groups. Students from suspect countries like Syria and Iraq have been banned from taking university chemistry courses as they may use this knowledge to manufacture bombs.15
Civil Liberties Under Threat
But the South African Bill's definition of terrorist act was even worse than the Canadian one. For example, the Canadian lawmakers agreed to amend the definition of ‘terrorist act’ in the Canadian Bill to exclude forms of dissent that may be illegal, but that do not involve acts of serious violence against civilians, such as wildcat strikes or sit-ins. This amendment was necessary to ensure that people engaged in acts of civil disobedience were not tried as terrorists (possibly the most serious offence on the statute books, attracting extremely harsh sentences). However, the South African definition retained the reference to illegal activities amounting to terrorist acts. What this meant was that the government could use their discretion to define unlawful dissent as terrorist actions, such as the Soweto Electricity Crisis Committee's ‘illegal’ reconnection of water and electricity in poor households, and illegal gatherings. In fact, the South African law went even further than the Canadian law and outlawed simple membership of a terrorist organisation. Many other aspects of the Bill were far more repressive than the Canadian version, raising questions about what the South African government's real motives were.
Also, the Bill omitted to mention a clause contained in the old Organisation of African Unity's (OAU) Algiers Convention of 1999, which states that the struggle waged by peoples in accordance with the principles of international law for their liberation or self-determination, including the armed struggle against colonialism, occupation, aggression, and domination by foreign forces shall not be considered as terrorist acts.
The South African Bill also introduced the element of motive into the definition of the crime, in the process moving criminal law away from the principle that wrongful acts should be punished, rather than motive. As was argued at the time, adding political and religious factors to the element of motive is particularly dangerous, as this could well lead to the criminalisation of organisations and ideologies that oppose the government of the day. It was also argued that the sorts of criminal acts covered by the Bill were already criminalised in existing legislation, and that the Bill was unnecessary.16
As Benita Whitcher has argued:
[Unlike being a murderer], being a ‘terrorist’ is often a function of being on the wrong side of power rather than possessing any inherent and universally disagreeable qualities or having committed a readily identifiable act … It should be borne in mind that terrorism is an offence in which those who legislate have very immediate, often personal, and certainly vested political and ideological interests. 17
Whitcher further noted that the political expressions of many mass organizations in marginalised communities use rhetoric that may be considered militant, even seditious. The Bill was drafted in a manner that could criminalise such rhetoric, and direct action (even if ‘illegal’), as terrorist.18 The highly restrictive nature of the Bill prompted mass opposition in South Africa. The Congress of South African Trade Unions threatened a strike if the Bill was not withdrawn for extensive rewriting, as it argued that is members would be directly affected; the Bill was withdrawn, and rewritten.19 Many problematic clauses still remain, but the definition of terrorist act was narrowed, and the clause from the OAU convention added.
The government also introduced highly invasive monitoring and interception draft legislation. Once again, after public protests, a less restrictive Regulation of Interception of Communications Act was promulgated. Nevertheless, when compared to similar laws in other jurisdictions, this law remains problematic. While interception orders must be granted by a judge, the grounds on which orders can be issued are overbroad. There is no requirement in the Act for information about interception orders to be published and presented in Parliament, as is the case in some other countries: this provides at least some checks and balances on the potential for abuse of ‘snoop laws’.
Even more recently, evidence has surfaced of South Africa having co-operated with the FBI in ‘rendering’ terror suspects without the necessary extradition processes. Apart from the procedural problems with this, America is notorious for ‘rendering’ and detaining innocent people, which makes South African adherence to procedure all the more necessary. In 1999, the government was admonished by the Constitutional Court, for effecting what it termed a ‘disguised extradition’ of Khalfan Khamis Mohamed, a suspect in the embassy bombings in Tanzania. The court found that his removal by FBI agents was in violation of international law and the Constitution.
In spite of this pronouncement from the Constitutional Court, other suspicious ‘disappearances’ have taken place. For example, Khalid Rashid was arrested in South Africa as an illegal alien in 2005, and after a secret detention lasting eighteen months, he turned up for trial in Pakistan. This incident led Rashid's family and lawyer to accuse the South African government of having facilitated his removal under the Central Intelligence Agency's ‘extraordinary renditions programme’.20 The South African Department of Home Affairs argued that they did not know that he was being sought for questioning about alleged acts of terror. When the matter was taken to court, the court found that while the Department had acted suspiciously in the deporting of Rashid – especially given that he was dispatched on a chartered jet from a military airbase in Pretoria – there was insufficient information to conclude that the government knew about the allegations against him.
Pakistani national Saud Memon was released after four months of detention (two of which were in Guantanamo Bay), and then died. He was wanted in connection with the murder of Wall Street Journal journalist Daniel Pearl in May 2002, who was beheaded by Al-Qaeda operative Khalid Sheik Mohammed. This has led to speculation that
the South African government gave United States intelligence agencies carte blanche to pursue their ‘war against terror’ on South African soil. 21
Memon testified in his trial in Pakistan that the FBI had arrested him in South Africa in March 2003, in spite of the fact that the Department of Home Affairs could not produce a record of his deportation, and the Department of Justice could not produce an extradition request.
Then in June 2007, it was reported that a Johannesburg man studying in Syria, Abdul Hamid Moosa, was secretly abducted by US soldiers, and moved to a US base in Ethiopia, where he is allegedly being held without trial.22 To their credit, the South African Department of Foreign Affairs intervened to secure Moosa's release, who recounted shocking stories of human rights abuses at the US base.23
But more serious tests of South Africa's mettle are unfolding, and it remains to be seen how it will react. In January 2007, the United States government announced that it intended to place two South Africans on its list of terrorism suspects, which at that stage listed approximately 325,000 people. This list requires all United Nations (UN) agencies to freeze financial transactions of those listed. Junaid Ismail Dockrat, a dentist from Mayfair, and his cousin, Pretoria cleric Farhad Ahmed Dockrat, were named as having suspected links to Al-Qaeda – a charge that the Dockrats have denied. The US government also requested the United Nations to list the Dockrats as terror suspects as well.
The existence of such extensive lists has raised concerns about the human rights implications for those listed, as there is no transparency in how the lists are put together, leading to possibilities that innocent people may be listed, and have no recourse to ensure the removal of their names. A case in point involves prominent South African academic Adam Habib – who is Muslim – and who was deported from the US for unspecified reasons, and the visas of his wife and two sons were revoked. The South African government has stated that it recognises the problem, and has taken up the case of the Dockcrats. How the government will react when pressed on this matter remains to be seen.
In conclusion, in spite of protestations to the contrary, there are indications that South Africa's position is becoming an increasingly prone one. South Africa's position in the US-dominated global military-security complex is, admittedly, invidious. Its liberation struggle credentials lean it towards being quietly critical of the US-led ‘war against terror’, and even propels it to take the occasional but rare openly hostile position (such as on the invasion of Iraq). Yet as what Roger Southall has called an ‘emerging middle power’,24 it occupies a structural position in the imperialist chain that makes it extremely susceptible to US pressure. Its vulnerabilities should be of concern to Africa as a whole, especially given the fact that countries like Ethiopia and Kenya have already fallen under the US's spell, and are prosecuting the ‘war against terror’ to different extents on the US's behalf (and to their own benefit).
South Africa's ambivalence about which side it is on in the ‘war against terror’ is unsurprising: it is a logical consequence of its shift toward neo-liberal policies in the late 1990s. The country's attempts to globalise the economy – ostensibly to achieve internal developmental objectives – requires a climate of ‘stability’ to protect the accumulation of wealth by foreign and local investors. Wide-rang-ing anti-terrorism measures have proved to be very handy in doing just that in other countries.
A continental anti-imperialist solution is needed to this growing problem. The World Social Forum has important work to do in resisting the re-colonisation of Africa's resources under the guise of the ‘war against terror’; however, it would need to revise its exclusion of armed resistance movements. Significantly, the ‘war against terror’ issues received some prominence at this year's WSF, with luminaries like Danny Glover and Archbishop Desmond Tutu warning against the repressive manner in which the war is being prosecuted. They argued that such measures are fuelling anti-American sentiment. They also related how other governments are following suit, using anti-terrorism measures to clamp down on civil society, and urged organisations to reclaim these spaces.
The WSF could also help to link the struggles against repressive anti-terror-ism measures together and experiences could be compared and contrasted. Solidarity must be extended to social movements in Kenya, where mass opposition has stopped the anti-terror law in its tracks. Kenyans have rich experiences in relation to struggles against terrorism measures, as they have experienced both sides of the terrorism equation. The labeling of the Mau Mau national liberation struggle as terrorist in colonial times led to the torture and murder of many Kenyans who launched a reparations case in Britain last year to secure compensation. Following the removal of the repressive President Daniel Arap Moi from office in 2003, Kenyan landless women spearheaded a Mau Mau resurgence for collective land entitlements, and against corporate control of the country's most fertile land.
More recently, and in spite of the bombing of the US Embassy in 1998 in which many innocent Kenyans died, mass Kenyan protests stopped the passage of an anti-terrorism Bill. In mid-2003, the Daily Nation reported on rising mass protests at what is seen as Washington's bullying tactics against Kenya. Their citizens know that the US and Kenyan governments would use the Bill mainly to quell discontent against neo-liberal policies in Kenya. They also know that protection of civilians against right-wing terrorist attacks is merely a subsidiary objective of the Bill. Kenyan opposition has again resurfaced against the Bill, as the US attempts to ensure the Bill is promulgated given rising opposition to US foreign policy in East Africa.
The South African and Kenyan experiences suggest that struggles against antiterrorism measures can achieve results. Yet these results will be short lived if the grip of US foreign policy on strategic African governments are not loosened. This is why South Africa's position on the ‘war against terror’ matters: it stands to affect the sub-region, and even the continent, very directly in the long run. Attempts by South African government officials to stand up to US pressure must be supported (such as the unilateral listing of terror suspects). But there are indications that these attempts are patchy and inconsistent, and mask a deeper alignment with US foreign policy than it may care to admit. If this is a fair reading of the situation, then the left in Africa should be afraid, very afraid.
Jane Duncan; e-mail: jduncan@123456fxi.org.za