Cover art: Grain Queue, Somalia

by Col Peter Michael Gish, USMCR (Ret)
The Crisis of the African State

Globalization, Tribalism, and Jihadism

in the Twenty-First Century

Edited by

Anthony N. Celso and Robert Nalbandov

Quantico, Virginia
Disclaimer

The views expressed in this publication are solely those of the authors. They do not necessarily reflect the opinions of the organizations for which they work, Marine Corps University, 

the U.S. Marine Corps, the Department of the Navy, or the U.S. government. The information 

contained in this book was accurate at the time of printing.

Published by

Marine Corps University Press

3078 Upshur Avenue

Quantico, VA

22134

www.mcu.usmc.mil/mcu_press

1st Printing 2016

ISBN 978-0-9911588-8-1

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

The crisis of the African state : globalization, tribalism, and Jihadism in the twenty-first 

century / Dr. Anthony N. Celso and Dr. Robert Nalbandov.

 pages cm

 Includes index.

1. Internal security—Africa. 2. Political stability—Africa. 3. Ethnic conflict—Africa. 4. 

Globalization—Africa. 5. Jihad. 6. Islamic fundamentalism—Africa. 7. Africa—Politics and 

government—21st century. I. Celso, Anthony, editor, author. II. Nalbandov, Robert, editor, 

author.

 UA855.C75 2015

 355.03306—dc23 2015025263
Contents

Acknowledgments ............................................................................................vii

Introduction: The Crisis of the African State and the .................................... 1

Impact of Globalization,Tribalism, and Jihadism

by Anthony N. Celso and Robert Nalbandov

Chapter One .....................................................................................................14

The Evolution of Post-Ben Ali Tunisian Jihadism

by Daveed Gartenstein-Ross

Chapter Two......................................................................................................53

Al-Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb: Libya, Mali, and the 

Next Jihadist War

by Anthony N. Celso

Chapter Three ...................................................................................................73

Small Wars: Tactical and Strategic Drivers in Northern Mali, 2013

by Henri Boré

Chapter Four.....................................................................................................82

From Rebels to Rulers: Conflict and State Consolidation

in Comparative Perspective

by Ian S. Spears

Chapter Five....................................................................................................104

After the Genocide

by Robert E. Gribbin

Chapter Six......................................................................................................121

France and Libya in Chad: A Strange Triangle

by Robert Nalbandov

iii
Chapter Seven ................................................................................................163

Political Economy and Stability in Nigeria

by Clarence J. Bouchat

Chapter Eight..................................................................................................203

The African Failed State and the Challenge of Combating

Jihadism and Tribalism in the Global Era

by Anthony N. Celso and Robert Nalbandov

Glossary ...........................................................................................................213

Index.................................................................................................................223

iv
For our wives

Acknowledgments

The authors would like to thank the Department of Security Studies at Angelo State University (ASU) and the Marine Corps University (MCU) for their 

support of this project. Special mention must be made to then-vice president of academic affairs at MCU, Dr. Jerre Wilson, and Dr. Bruce Bechtol Jr. 

and Dr. Robert Ehlers of the Department of Security Studies at ASU for their 

assistance in the formation and completion of this endeavor. We are also 

immensely grateful to MCU History Division Director Dr. Charles P. Neimeyer for his willingness to publish this volume. Finally, we would like to thank 

the many contributors to this book for their excellent work. 

Dr. Anthony Celso

Angelo State University

Dr. Robert Nalbandov 

Utah State University

vii
Map by W. Stephen Hill
Introduction

The Crisis of the African State and the Impact 

of Globalization, Tribalism, and Jihadism

Anthony N. Celso and Robert Nalbandov

This book focuses on security problems facing the twenty-first-century 

African state. Through multiple essays, the authors explore both current 

and past security issues associated with tribal warfare and jihadist terrorism within a rapidly changing global context where state sovereignty and 

institutional capability is in decline. Historic and modern situations have coalesced to create unique security challenges for many African states.

A comprehensive analysis of how Islamic radicalism, tribal conflicts, and 

globalization merge to complicate African security is frequently missing 

from the literature. These three forces conjoin in some African countries 

to create vexing security challenges. Amy Chua’s excellent book, World on 

Fire, explores some of these issues albeit in a very general way.1 However, 

given the lack of a systematic exploration of these issues, the authors of this 

volume hope to make such a contribution. We also aspire to illuminate how 

tribal animosity, civil war, and reconciliation are being handled in select African countries. We shall accomplish these goals using a state-centric focus. 

Despite the novelty of the book’s exploration of recent challenges, we 

will take a more traditional route and concentrate on the central role of the 

state and its vital connection to security. The critical role of the state in the 

provision of security is amply recognized in social science literature.2 Maintaining order—social, political, and economic—is frequently predicated upon 

the state achieving a monopoly over the instrument of coercion. Without 

security, fully developed economic and social structures are problematic 

at best and their full potential is drastically constrained. States unable to 

maintain security often suffer lawlessness, civil war, alienation, poverty, famine, pandemics, and societal collapse. Distressingly, this is the case in many 

1 Amy Chua, World on Fire: How Exporting Free Market Democracy Breeds Ethnic Hatred and Global 

Instability (New York: Random House, 2004). 2 Max Weber, Weber: Political Writings, ed. Peter Lassman, trans. Ronald Speirs (Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 1994). 

1
2 The Crisis of the African State

African countries. Table 1 shows where various African states fall on The 

Fund for Peace’s Fragile States Index, which is a comprehensive measure of 

a society’s level of instability. The index is based on a range of comprehensive economic, social, legal, and political conditions that provide a general 

snapshot of a dysfunctional continent full of failing states.

Africa is a continent awash in failed states that are unable to maintain 

political stability and security. The 2014 Fragile States Index, for example, 

contains a preponderance of African and especially sub-Saharan states. Government failure is so widespread that it conjures an image of a dysfunctional 

continent. Indeed, African states include 14 of the top 20 failing regimes. 

Some of the most extreme examples can be found in sub-Saharan Africa. 

Somalia illustrates the worst aspects of state failure in the region and of 

the combined impact of globalization, Islamic radicalism, and tribal-religious 

animosities. The overthrow of General Siad Barre’s dictatorial regime more 

than three decades ago resulted in state collapse and internecine fighting 

between rival warlords. The breakdown in security disrupted agricultural production, resulting in widespread famine and hundreds of thousand 

deaths. The United Nations (UN) intervened in 1992 to assist international 

agencies in their famine relief operations. International forces accompanying the UN relief effort eventually expanded into security operations against 

warlords who were interfering with the delivery of food supplies, further exacerbating the security situation as those warlords then turned their guns 

on UN forces.

Table 1. 2014 Fragile States Index for select African states

State Score Rank State Score

1 South Sudan 112.9 12 Guinea 102.7

2 Somalia 112.6 14 Côte d’Ivoire 101.7

3 Central African Republic 110.6 16 Guinea Bissau 100.6

4 Democratic Republic 

of the Congo

110.2 17 Nigeria 99.7

5 Sudan 110.1 18 Kenya 99.0

6 Chad 108.7 19 Ethiopia 97.9

11 Zimbabwe 102.8 19 Niger 97.9

Source: http://ffp.statesindex.org
Introduction 3

The high profile street clashes between U.S. Special Forces and militias 

loyal to warlord General Mohammed Farah Aidid resulted in the death of 

19 American soldiers and hundreds of Somalis in a failed snatch-and-grab 

operation.3 The U.S. casualties convinced the William J. “Bill” Clinton administration to end U.S. participation in the UN effort. This withdrawal intensified 

warlord fighting and contributed to the emergence of Islamist groups hoping to reverse chronic insecurity. 

The Islamic Court Union (ICU), for example, hoped to defeat the warlords and create the basis for Sharia law across Somalia. Given the Islamic 

ICU’s radical jihadist character and fear that the country could serve as 

an al-Qaeda terror sanctuary, Western powers backed moderate warlords 

who were resisting the Islamists. These warlords eventually formed the 

Transitional Federal Government (TFG) that is combating radical Islamist 

forces, including the al-Qaeda affiliate al-Shabaab.4

Formed from the ICU and declaring jihad against invading pro-TFG 

Ethiopian forces, al-Shabaab has mounted a fierce guerrilla campaign. 

Since its formation more than a decade ago, al-Shabaab has continued 

its war against the TFG and allied African Union (AU) forces. Declaring its 

fidelity to Osama bin Laden’s organization in 2012, al-Qaeda’s Somali affiliate controlled two-thirds of Somalia at the height of its power. Recently 

al-Shabaab has experienced battlefield defeats, including the loss of the 

strategic port of Kismayo and the displacement of its forces from Mogadishu.5 It has also suffered from internal disputes between rival leaders. 

Somalia continues to be beset by civil war, famine, Islamic radicalism, and 

chronic lawlessness.

The combined impact of globalization, Islamic radicalism, and tribalreligious animosities also plagues Sudan. Predating the Taliban’s rise in Afghanistan, Hussein al-Turabi’s Islamist regime in the 1990s was a magnet 

for jihadist groups. Bin Laden’s Sudanese sanctuary (1992–96) played a key 

role in his terror network’s development and the creation of the group’s 

African branch.6 The ascendance of radical Islamist forces came at the ex3 Mark Bowden, Black Hawk Down: A Story of Modern War (London: Corgi Books, 2002). 4 The Harakat al-Shabaab al-Mujahidin (or al-Shabaab) was the militant wing of the Somali Council of 

Islamic Courts that took over most of southern Somalia in the last half of 2006. Defeated by Somali and 

Ethiopian forces in 2007, al-Shabaab—a clan-based insurgent and terrorist group—continues its violent 

insurgency in southern and central Somalia.

5 Christopher Anzalone, “Al-Shabaab’s Setbacks in Somalia,” CTC Sentinel 4, no. 10 (October 2011): 22–25. 6 Lorenzo Vidino, “The Arrival of Islamic Fundamentalism in the Sudan,” Al Nakhlah, Fletcher School 

Online Journal on Southwest Asia and Islamic Civilization (Fall 2006), http://fletcher.tufts.edu/~/media

/Fletcher/Microsites/al%20Nakhlah/archives/2006/vidino_fall.pdf. 
4 The Crisis of the African State

pense of black Christian and Muslim minorities who have been brutalized 

by the regime in Khartoum and its proxy forces.7

Sudan has experienced a generation of civil war and religious conflict 

between a northern Muslim majority and a southern Christian minority. 

After the death of millions, Christian insurgents were able to secure international mediation that achieved a tenuous peace agreement resulting in 

the 2011 creation of an independent Christian-dominated state of South 

Sudan. Recent fighting over disputed territory containing substantial oil reserves threatens to unhinge the treaty.8

Explaining State Failure

State failure in Africa has invited many explanations. These tend to be 

grouped into overarching theories that rely heavily on colonialism, neoimperialist exploitation, dysfunctional postcolonial political elites, and misguided 

economic strategies.9

 The uniqueness of the continent’s history and its ethnoreligious and linguistic diversity severely complicates the maintenance of 

security and the achievement of social cohesion. This is especially true in Africa where colonial-era borders have created heterogeneous national cultures 

that impair national consciousness. For some, the progression of the African 

one-party state is a consequence of weakly developed democratic structures 

that have served as the basis for tribal politics and national unraveling.10

African locally based traditions, moreover, mitigate against the imposition 

of central authority. It is clear that the colonial-era Westphalian state in Africa 

has produced systematic upheaval facilitating civil war, tribal animosity, autocratic one-party states, and ethnic cleansing. Many of the following essays 

offer ample testimony to the dysfunctional impact of arbitrarily drawn borders that are incongruent with national cohesion. 

The colonial development of African economic systems also made them 

heavily dependent upon the extraction of primary materials and the export 

7 Walid Phares, The Coming Revolution: Struggle for Freedom in the Middle East (New York: Threshold 

Editions, Simon & Schuster, 2010). 

8 The country’s oil fields are dominated by Chinese companies who increasingly play an important role 

in regional energy markets. The economic weight of China, with its massive investment in Sudan’s energy and transport infrastructure, has sparked enormous controversy. The Asian giant’s financial underwriting of Khartoum has given the regime the capability to brutalize Darfur’s black Muslim minority. 

Multitudes have been killed by invading Arab militias backed by Sudan’s Islamist government and most 

have suffered from famine. Furthermore, the appalling economic exploitation of African labor in Chinese factories has resulted in the opprobrium of the international community.

9 Alex Thomson, An Introduction to African Politics, 3d ed. (New York: Routledge, 2008). 10 Ibid.
Introduction 5

of cash crops, exacerbating the continent’s financial weakness and aggravating its terms of trade.11 Falling commodity prices and mounting foreign debt 

coalesced to weaken African economies in the post-independence phase. 

International Monetary Fund (IMF) policies designed to enhance economic 

competiveness, precondition capital infusions upon the implementation of 

market reforms that shrink the state sector, weakening central authority. The 

rise of African civic and private charitable organizations has, moreover, been 

insufficient to cushion the adverse health and literacy effects of cuts in state 

welfare and education programs.12 In many areas, states have withdrawn security forces, encouraging the rise of lawless militias and regional warlords.

The absence of a genuine democratic ethos and the rise of extreme leftist 

ideology of Africa’s postcolonial political and economic elite have contributed to the continent’s security and economic problems. Jean-François Bayart’s 

concept of the patrimonial state is a standard referent in any discussion of 

corruption, autocracy, and societal dysfunction in Africa.13 The exclusive characteristics of the independence movement and the absence of a deep civic 

culture among the populace resulted in a weak commitment to democratic 

values. Nationalist leaders sought to use state patronage to forge a network 

of political supporters under an umbrella of a dominant hegemonic party. 

The prevalence of socialist economic ideas and the simultaneous expansion of the state sector fit nicely with the need to create a stable coterie 

of followers receptive to the use of state funds for private purposes. The 

systemic corruption and parasitic exploitation of state finances tragically 

represented by regimes like Mobutu Sese Seko’s 30-plus year dictatorship 

became a standard practice of legitimate governance. The unwise import 

substation policies of an inefficient and bloated public sector drained 

productive areas of the economy. The prevalence of marketing boards 

for agricultural products that controlled prices squeezed the productive 

agricultural sector, exacerbating global competitiveness.14 These forces 

culminated in the 1990s with many African states receiving conditional IMF 

financial assistance that demanded a retrenchment of the state sector. Despite the beneficial consequences of liberating market forces, the reduction 

11 Samir Amin, “Underdevelopment and Dependence in Black Africa—Origins and Contemporary 

Forms,” Journal of Modern African Studies 10, no. 4 (1972): 503–24. 12 David Simon, Wim Van Spengen, Chris Dixon, and Anders Narman, eds., Structurally Adjusted Africa: 

Poverty, Debt, and Basic Needs (London: Pluto Press, 1995). 13 Jean-François Bayart, The State in Africa: The Politics of the Belly (Cambridge, UK: Polity Press, 2009). 14 Thomson, An Introduction to African Politics.
6 The Crisis of the African State

of the state sector further complicated the maintenance of public order. 

During this period of retrenchment, many African states underwent 

challenges by regional warlords, irredentist movements, tribal guerrilla insurgencies, and terrorist movements. State authority collapsed in the 

Democratic Republic of Congo after the fall of Mobutu Sese Seko’s regime. 

Warlords established territorial enclaves to exploit the country’s immense 

mineral wealth. Rwanda experienced civil war and genocide in 1994, with 

a million butchered in fewer than 10 weeks.15 Irredentist movements convulsed in Ethiopia and much of the continent became mired in economic 

crises, eroding state authority, causing political disorder, and instigating a 

general failure to respond to the challenge of globalization.16

Globalization, Tribal Politics, and Radical Islam

The decline of the autocratic one-party system and the reduction of the 

state’s economic role have coincided with democratization and multiparty 

politics that may lay the basis for future tribal conflict. Faced with declining state resources and patronage opportunities, autocratic elites could no 

longer keep the single-party state and its entrenched interests intact. International aid donors, moreover, demanded democratization. In the last 25 

years, democracy had grown dramatically on the continent.17 This could, if 

not managed properly, unleash further tribal and ethnic conflict. Many of the 

essays in this volume address this issue.

Globalization, moreover, could reward tribes and ethnic minorities more able 

to adapt to marketplace opportunities. Globally entrepreneurial minorities like 

the Jews, the Chinese, and the Ibos (an ethnic group in Nigeria) have frequently 

been attacked by enraged mobs envious of their economic success. The financial prominence of minority groups in Africa has in the past exacerbated group 

and tribal conflict. The Tutsi in Rwanda, the Ibos in Nigeria, the Indians in Kenya 

and Uganda, the whites in Zimbabwe, and the Lebanese in Sierra Leone have 

all been brutally targeted by majoritarian states and groups.18 The mixture of 

globalization, democracy, and tribal conflicts could exacerbate the instances of 

civil war and ethnic cleansing, not increase intercommunal harmony. 

15 Fergal Keane, Season of Blood: A Rwandan Journey (New York: Viking, 1995). 16 For more information on irredentism, see Martin Griffiths and Terry O’Callaghan, International Relations: The Key Concepts (London: Routledge, 2002), 168–70. 17 Michael Bratton and Nicolas van de Walle, Democratic Experiments in Africa: Regime Transitions in 

Comparative Perspective (Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 1993). 18 Chua, World on Fire.
Introduction 7

The security of the African state is also being challenged by the rise of 

Islamism and jihadism. Islam spread rapidly throughout North Africa and 

sub-Saharan Africa by the tenth century. In black Africa, Islam’s southward 

progression meshed with Animist19 traditions to create unique and tolerant belief systems. Sufism dominates much of black African Islamic culture 

and has generally mixed well with Christian and Animist groups.20 This does 

not mean, however, that the continent has been free of sectarian conflict. 

Nigeria has seen internecine violence between Christians and Muslims for 

generations, and nineteenth-century Sudanese religious revivalism led the 

self-proclaimed Mahdi, Muhammad Ahmad, to be defeated. The Sudanese 

Mahdist legacy, however, has inspired other revivalist movements that are 

rapidly sweeping across the continent replacing Sufism with Wahhabiinspired fundamentalism.

International events have driven this revivalism. The 1979 Iranian Revolution, the USSR’s defeat of in Afghanistan by the mujahideen, and Saudi 

Arabia’s petro-financed spread of Wahhabi fundamentalism21 have played 

an invaluable role in the religious reconfiguration of African Islam. These 

broad forces, combined with the weakness and decay of the one-party 

African state, has inspired both peaceful and violent Islamist movements. 

Hussein Turabi hoped to use state patronage in the Sudan to promote the 

cause of radical Islam in the region. His support for groups like Egyptian 

Islamic jihad spurred terrorism against Mubarak’s regime in Cairo in the 

1990s, and his assistance to bin Laden’s network was widely condemned by 

the international community.22 It would further set the stage for al-Qaeda’s 

development of regional cells in East Africa.

Events in Algeria were even more troublesome. The Islamic Salvation Front 

(FIS) in the 1980s was able to exploit the incipient democratization of the 

Algerian state. The party swept the parliamentary elections in 1991, but its 

electoral victory was annulled by the military that feared the implantation of a 

radical Islamist state. Algeria soon descended into a civil war that killed hundreds of thousands.23

19 For more information about Animism, see http://www.globalsecurity.org/military/intro/animism.htm.

20 Jeff Haynes, Religion and Politics in Africa (London: Zed Books, 1996). 21 An austere form of Islam, Wahhabi is Saudi Arabia’s dominant faith and its followers believe in a 

strict interpretation of the Qur’an. For more information, visit http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/pages/frontline 

/shows/saudi/analyses/wahhabism.html.

22 Vidino, “The Arrival of Islamic Fundamentalism in the Sudan.”

23 Luis Martinez, The Algerian Civil War, 1990–1998 (New York: Columbia University Press, 2000).
8 The Crisis of the African State

Returning home after their successful jihad against Soviet forces, Algerian 

mujahideen formed the ultraviolent Armed Islamic Group (GIA). The jihadists unleashed a brutal insurgency and terror campaign against Algiers. As 

believers in Takfiri doctrines that branded all nonfollowers as “apostates,” 

the GIA brutally massacred entire villages, often beheading their victims. 

The group’s extreme violence, however, undermined its popular appeal and 

weakened the Islamist insurgency. Relying on savage counterinsurgency 

practices and deftly splitting Islamist insurgents through amnesty programs, 

Algiers was able to defeat the Islamists by the late 1990s, but at a terrible 

price. The scars of the civil war continue to haunt Algeria. 

The rise of jihadist forces in Sudan, Somalia, Nigeria, Mali, and East Africa 

threaten to unleash a contagion of violence in the region. Bin Laden was 

able to create an ample East African network during his Sudanese sanctuary 

period that allowed him to plan and execute the 1998 bombings of the U.S. 

embassies in Kenya and Tanzania that killed hundreds.24 Today al-Qaeda 

has affiliates in Somalia, the Maghreb, and the Sahel. The fall of regimes in 

Egypt, Tunisia, and Libya offer al-Qaeda Central additional opportunities to 

spread the network’s regional tentacles.25

Local jihadist groups in Mali, Niger, and Nigeria have also spread their 

message of violent extremism. Boko Haram in Nigeria and the reverberations of Muammar Qaddafi’s fall in Libya continue to shake the region.26

Thousands have died in Nigeria due to Boko Haram’s Islamist insurgency, 

and jihadist forces in Mali were able to briefly secure a sanctuary assisted by 

Tuareg rebels and Libyan arms before the recent French intervention drove 

them from power. They are likely to mount a protracted insurgent-terror 

campaign. The diffusion of radical Islamist groups across the fragile Sahelian Belt is likely to complicate security for Mali’s neighbors. Recent attacks 

in neighboring Algeria and Niger punctuate the dangers of the regional jihadist movement.

The Book’s Organization

The African state is under severe pressure, and the combined challenges of 

globalization, tribal politics, jihadism, and the retrenchment of the state have 

24 Lawrence Wright, The Looming Tower: Al Qaeda and the Road to 9/11 (New York: Knopf, 2006). 25 Yoram Schweitzer and Gilad Stern, “A Golden Opportunity? Al-Qaeda and the Uprisings in the Middle 

East,” Strategic Assessment 14, no. 2 (2011): 29–39. 26 Micha’el Tanchum, “Al-Qa‘ida’s West African Advance: Nigeria’s Boko Haram, Mali’s Touareg, and the 

Spread of Salafi Jihadism,” Israel Journal of Foreign Affairs 6, no. 2 (2012): 75–90.
Introduction 9

created alternative loci of identification. Tribalism, Islamism, communitarianism, and the predations of regional warlords also have exacted a considerable 

toll. We hope to illuminate some of these challenges here. The organization 

of the essays proceeds on three levels. First, we will look at the impact of the 

Arab Spring and its potential for the revitalization of radical political Islam in 

Africa. Second, we will examine the intersection of globalization, ethnoreligious conflict, civil war, and the capacity for stable governance in a variety 

of African states. Finally, we will integrate this complex array of factors into a 

Nigerian case study that encapsulates many of Africa’s enduring problems.

The Arab Spring and the Future

of the Maghreb Salafi-Jihadist Movement 

The Arab world’s massive street protests and demands for democratization, 

known collectively as the Arab Spring, surprised many analysts.27 The region was thought to be impervious to the waves of democratization that 

had swept across Eastern Europe, Latin America, the Far East, and Africa. 

Long-repressed Arab civil society began to assert itself against corrupt despotic regimes, laying the basis for democratization in Egypt and Tunisia, the 

overthrow of Qaddafi’s dictatorship, and the ongoing rebellion in Syria. 

This emergence of Arab civil society and mass protests were hailed by 

many experts as a harbinger of a new democratic age and the perfect 

antidote to violent radical Islam.28 The election of Muslim Brotherhooddominated governments in Tunisia and Egypt was thought to be a first 

and decisive step in reconciling Islam and democracy, denying al-Qaeda’s 

narrative that democratic systems are un-Islamic.29 This initial wave of optimism, however, soon dissipated and gave way to growing fear, anxiety, and 

uncertainty. Much of this concern hinges on the turmoil and instability that 

the Arab Spring has wrought. Radical Islamic extremists hope to capitalize 

on the unstable security environment in the region. Within this context, the 

first three essays explore the aftermath of the Arab Spring, which may give 

jihadists an opening to advance their strategic interests. 

The first chapter by Daveed Gartenstein-Ross explores how jihadist and 

27 The New Arab Revolt: What Happened, What It Means, and What Comes Next (New York: Council of 

Foreign Relations, 2011). 

28 Bruce Feiler, Generation Freedom: The Middle East Uprisings and the Remaking of the Modern World

(New York: Harper Collins, 2011). 

29 Vali Nasr, Forces of Fortune: The Rise of the New Muslim Middle Class and What It Will Mean for Our 

World (Washington, DC: Free Press, 2009). 
10 The Crisis of the African State

Salafist forces attempted to exploit the changes brought by the Arab Spring 

revolutions. Based on field research in Tunisia and extensive primary source 

research, Gartenstein-Ross examines how radical Islamists saw a strategic 

opportunity in the country’s democratization. Critical to the initial pursuit 

of their aims was the opportunity to perform dawa, or missionary preaching, that helped them expand their movement in the country. Over time, 

jihadist activism in the country came to encompass hisba violence, which is 

designed to enforce conservative Islamic norms through vigilante violence, 

and ultimately war against the state. Though Tunisian jihadist groups have 

now been banned by the state and are pursued by counterterrorism forces, 

they have continued waging war against the country, including targeting its 

vital tourism sector.

In the second chapter, Anthony Celso provides an historical overview 

of the Maghreb Islamist movement from the Afghan jihad to its recent 

expansion into Libya and Mali. Concentrating mainly on Algerian jihadist 

movements, Dr. Celso traces the organizational permutations that culminated in the development of al-Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb (AQIM) created 

in 2006 by Ayman al-Zawahiri. He argues that recent advances by AQIM 

in Libya and Mali are due principally to the adverse consequences of 

Qaddafi’s overthrow. The Islamist threat in the region, however, is limited 

by the internal dysfunctions of the jihadist movement, whose ideological 

fanaticism and extreme violence has led to popular rejection and internal 

fracturing. AQIM’s brief northern Mali sanctuary was punctuated by sectarian extremism and the harsh imposition of Islamic law that alienated much 

of the local population. France’s recent military intervention in Mali has reversed AQIM’s limited gains, and al-Qaeda’s regeneration is impeded by 

internal and external enemies.

The volume’s third chapter by Henri Boré examines whether Islamist forces can be checked by the French and African forces in Mali. Relying on 

the principles of counterinsurgency warfare popularized by T. E. Lawrence, 

Boré argues that only Chadian forces have the necessary mobility and tactics to offset the inevitable Islamist insurgency campaign. The formation of 

a Pan-African stabilization force by European and West African states lacks 

such a capability at present. The success of future counterinsurgency policy 

in Mali, moreover, is dependent upon resolving the autonomy demands 

of Tuareg minorities who joined Islamist forces in 2012 to achieve an independent state in the northern part of the country. Despite the initial gains 
Introduction 11

associated with France’s military incursion, the country’s security status is 

tenuous and reversible.

Civil War, Ethnic Cleansing, and the Rise

of Governing Rebel Movements

The second section of the book concentrates on the impact of tribalism, ethnic cleansing, third-party external intervention, and the emergence of rebel 

movements that made the transition to government rule. It examines the 

nexus between ethnotribal conflicts and the pursuit of political power by 

violent means. Some of these cases involve the use of reconciliation measures to ensure proper governance. Within the section, the Rwandan 1994 

genocide and its surprising and hopeful political aftermath will predominate 

the discussion. 

In the fourth chapter, Ian Spears focuses on tribal guerrilla resistance in 

Rwanda, Eritrea, and Ethiopia where, after a period of protracted insurgency, minority groups were able to seize power. These new regimes were led 

by guerrilla leaders, whose ruling capability has been enhanced by their 

years of insurgent resistance requiring leadership and political and organizational skills. Dr. Spears argues that these regimes have wisely scaled back 

democratic reforms for fear that they will exacerbate tribal antagonisms and 

damage the country’s fragile national consensus. 

Rwanda resurfaces in Robert Gribbin’s analysis in chapter 5 of the 1994 

genocide and its aftermath. Driven by a Hutu governing elite that refused 

to share power with a Tutsi minority, the genocide was driven by political 

rivalries and not simply by tribal antagonism. The 1994 genocide was deliberately planned and orchestrated by the regime that used its militias to 

cleanse Tutsi and moderate Hutus. In a 10-weak spree of organized killing, 

Hutu government forces slaughtered almost a million people. Ironically, the 

genocide produced such chaos that it allowed the rebel Tutsi Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF) the capacity to seize power. The event also dramatically 

illustrated the ineffectiveness of the UN and the international community, 

whose failure to intervene contributed immeasurably to the genocide. 

Ambassador Gribbin’s essay concentrates on Rwanda’s postgenocide reconstruction that was spearheaded by the victorious RPF and its charismatic 

leader Paul Kagame’s autocratic but unifying policies that put the country on 

a solid path toward political and economic recovery. Complicated by civil 

war, state implosion, and Hutu rebel sanctuaries in neighboring Zaire, Rwan-
12 The Crisis of the African State

da has successfully made strides toward punishing those who organized and 

implemented the 1994 genocide. Gribbin’s analysis reinforces Dr. Spear’s 

conclusions about how minority rebel movements have made the successful 

transition to governance through the use of coercive and conciliatory gestures.

Robert Nalbandov deals with the triangular relationship between Chad, 

Libya, and France in chapter 6. Dr. Nalbandov’s essay focuses on the nebulously defined borders between states and the underlying ethnotribal and 

religious antagonism associated with territorial disputes. The continued role 

of the French, who aspire to retain their status in the region, is an additional 

complicating factor. Like Sudan, Chad is split between a Muslim north and a 

Christian south, where groups have historically clashed.

 Driven by neocolonial interests rather than a desire to see a peaceful, unified Chad, French forces have intervened successfully to ensure the survival 

of Chadian elites representing Gallic interests.30 The same cannot be said 

of Libya’s efforts in the 1980s to Islamize Chad when its forces were badly 

routed by pro-French southern Christian forces. Like many African states in 

the postcolonial era, Chad has been shaken by internal conflict, religious 

cleavages, and external intervention. It remains one of the poorest states in 

the region and remains choked by internecine religious and tribal clashes. 

The benefits of globalization have barely reached Chad.

Nigeria as a Microcosm

of the Twenty-First-Century African State

In chapter 7, the focus is on Nigeria, which confronts a myriad of economic, 

political, and security challenges. The Nigerian case exemplifies much of the continent’s enduring conflicts. Among these problems are an imperfect transition 

to a democratic society, an unstable economy, corruption, Islamic insurgency, 

tribal conflicts, and political legitimacy issues. Nigeria with its immense population, ethnoreligious tapestry, and huge oil industry demands attention. 

Clarence Bouchat fittingly provides a comprehensive snapshot of the 

country’s manifold challenges in chapter 7. His review of Nigeria’s history, ethnoreligious diversity, and political conflicts features repeated military 

coups and a tenuous democratic evolution. Bouchat’s analysis principally 

focuses on the Nigerian oil economy and Abuja’s failed efforts to diversify 

its export sector and improve its competitive position. He argues that the 

30 For more information, see “Chad (1966–1987): Muscling in for Control,” in Robert Nalbandov, Foreign 

Interventions in Ethnic Conflicts (Surrey, UK: Ashgate Publishers, 2009).
Introduction 13

success of the oil industry has been hampered by chronic corruption, poor 

management, inadequate infrastructure, and insufficient efforts to use its 

profits to promote the country’s financial prosperity.

Much of the oil wealth generated has been siphoned off by corrupt political and economic elites. Ironically, the Niger Delta—where much of the oil 

is produced—is one of the poorest regions in Africa, and its regional poverty has inspired a local insurgency fueled by Abuja’s inability to distribute 

profits equitably. Nigeria is also beset by a northern Islamist insurgency led 

by the fundamentalist group Boko Haram that is positioned to become an 

al-Qaeda or Islamic State (IS) affiliate. The rise of the Boko Haram in Nigeria 

is but one of the emerging signs of a resurgent jihadist movement in Africa. 

Since its formation in 2009, thousands have died. Oddly, Nigeria’s democratization may have contributed to the ascension of radical Islamist forces. 

Celso and Nalbandov return for the final chapter to look at the resurgence 

of African jihadism and tribalism as being a consequence of Western-led 

globalization and democratization efforts. Borrowing from the work of 

Samuel Huntington, Robert Kaplan, Benjamin Barber, and Amy Chua, the 

chapter explains the reemergence of communal identity as a counteraction to the West’s promotion of capitalism, individualism, secularism, and 

democracy. Threatened by Western values, jihadism and tribalism seek to 

reverse the spread of liberal democratic influence. Ironically, the international community’s promotion of democracy and capitalism has resulted 

in the weakening of central authority and the acceleration of religious and 

tribal conflict. 

The UN’s effort to broker a power-sharing arrangement leading to multiparty democracy in 1994 contributed to the Hutu elite’s determination to 

ethnically cleanse the Tutsi minority. The resulting civil war led to the death 

of a million people. IMF brokering structural adjustment policies (SAP) in 

the 1990s tied to democratization initiatives similarly eroded state power and led to the emergence of tribal and Islamist militias committed to 

regime change. Finally, the Arab revolts and the emergence of unstable 

democracies continue to convulse. North and West Africa have catalyzed 

the jihadi movement, resulting in numerous security challenges.
Chapter One

The Evolution of Post-Ben Ali Tunisian Jihadism

by Daveed Gartenstein-Ross*

Introduction

Today, Tunisian politicians widely regard salafi jihadist militancy as the 

greatest immediate challenge their country faces.This chapter explores the 

growth and evolution of the salafi jihadist movement in Tunisia after the 

revolution that inspired the world by overthrowing longstanding dictator 

Zine al-Abidine Ben Ali through nonviolent means.1

The first Tunisian salafi jihadist organization with a national reach to become publicly identifiable following the revolution was Ansar al-Sharia in 

Tunisia (AST). In its early life, a phase lasting until December 2012, AST did 

an effective job fostering a social movement around salafi jihadist beliefs. 

The group was able to operate legally and in the open, and its activities were 

primarily focused on dawa (evangelism). However, even during this period 

in which AST prioritized legal and nonviolent dawa, the group also embraced violence in two different ways. Its primary use of violence was hisba, 

or “forbidding wrong,” which for AST entailed the enforcement of religious 

14

* Gartenstein-Ross is a senior fellow at the Foundation for Defense of Democracies and an adjunct 

assistant professor at Georgetown University. Dr. Gartenstein-Ross is the author or volume editor of 20 

books and monographs, and holds a PhD in world politics from The Catholic University of America and 

a juris doctor degree from the New York University School of Law. Much of the work for this chapter was 

undertaken for a pair of projects the author completed for the International Centre for Counter-Terrorism (ICCT), The Hague, resulting in the monographs Ansar al-Sharia Tunisia’s Long Game: Dawa, Hisba 

and Jihad (2013) and Raising the Stakes: Ansar al-Sharia in Tunisia’s Shift to Jihad (2014). Parts of this 

chapter are adapted from these two previous studies. The author would like to thank ICCT for allowing 

the republication of previously published passages. He would also like to thank Nathaniel Barr for his 

research assistance on Ansar al-Sharia’s activities during the course of 2014, and Bridget Moreng and 

Kathleen Soucy for their collaborative work with him on Raising the Stakes. Finally, the author would 

like to thank Edwin Bakker, Sergei Boeke, Eva Entenmann, Gilles de Kerchove, Peter Knoope, Andrew 

Lebovich, Lauren Morgan, Christophe Paulussen, and Aaron Y. Zelin for their feedback on this chapter.

1 For more on salafi jihadism, see Monica Marks, “Youth Politics and Tunisian Salafism: Understanding 

the Jihadi Current,” Mediterranean Politics 18, no. 1 (2013): 109; Stefano M. Torelli, Fabio Merone, and 

Francesco Cavatorta, “Salafism in Tunisia: Challenges and Opportunities for Democratization,” Middle 

East Policy 19, no. 4 (2012): 145; and Quintan Wiktorowicz, “Anatomy of the Salafi Movement,” Studies 

in Conflict & Terrorism 29, no 3 (2006): 208.
Ansar al-Sharia 15

norms within—and sometimes beyond—the Tunisian Muslim community.

There was another way AST embraced violence during this period. While 

hisba violence is primarily focused on imposing the group’s norms on other 

Muslims, AST also endorsed jihad violence, interpreting the theological concept of jihad in the same manner as al-Qaeda. Indeed, AST’s propaganda 

often featured statements from al-Qaeda icons like Osama bin Laden and 

Ayman al-Zawahiri, making clear that AST supported al-Qaeda’s fight and 

methods. However, despite AST’s rhetorical support for al-Qaeda’s jihad, the 

group largely refrained from major terrorist attacks or military actions inside 

Tunisia during this initial stage of its life.2 It was a different story abroad, as 

AST members participated in jihad violence when they took part in the conflicts in Mali and Syria. The idea that AST was gathering strength by operating 

legally, even while preparing for an eventual military confrontation with its 

foes, was articulated in a 2012 interview given by Hassan Ben Brik, who led 

AST’s dawa committee. Ben Brik described jihad as “certainly part of our political project,” but said that AST had “no interest currently in embarking on 

violent initiatives, or acts of terrorism.”3 Similarly, another young AST leader 

told an Italian researcher during this period that AST had not “eliminated 

the idea of jihad from our philosophy,” but that the group was not currently 

engaged in revolutionary violence because it was focused on dawa.4

The second major phase of salafi jihadism in Tunisia saw a period of 

escalation in the fight against the state. Though it is difficult to pinpoint a 

definitive beginning to this phase, the most persuasive inflection point is 

December 2012, when militants shot and killed Anis Jelassi, an adjutant in 

the Tunisian National Guard, in the Kasserine governorate in western Tunisia.5 This incident prompted Tunisian authorities to identify, for the first time, 

2 AST’s involvement in the 14 September 2012 attack on the U.S. embassy in Tunis may be an exception 

in which it engaged in jihad violence inside Tunisia. For discussion of AST’s role, see Habib M. Sayah, 

“Qui a Attaqué l’Ambassade des Etats-Unis: Retour sur Ansar al-Chari’a, Abou Iyadh et ses Relations 

avec Ennahdha,” Institut Kheireddine, 14 September 2012. However, it is possible that this attack too 

can be characterized as hisba rather than jihad, since it was seen as a reaction to the controversial “Innocence of Muslims” video and, in that way, the attack mainly related to the enforcement of Islamic norms. 

3 Quoted in Sergio Galasso, “Intervista ad Hassan Ben Brik: ‘Non Crediamo nella Democrazia, ma senza 

Appoggio del Popolo Niente Jihad’,” Limes, 11 October 2012. 4 Fabio Merone, “Salafism in Tunisia: An Interview with a Member of Ansar al-Sharia,” Jadaliyya, 11 April 

2013, http://www.jadaliyya.com/pages/index/11166/salafism-in-tunisia_an-interview-with-a-member-of-.

5 “Décès de l’Adjudant Anis Jelassi dans des Affrontements à Feriana,” GlobalNet, 11 December 2012, 

http://www.gnet.tn/revue-de-presse-nationale/tunisie-deces-de-ladjudant-anis-jelassi-dans-des-affrontements-a-feriana/id-menu-958.html.
16 The Crisis of the African State

a militant group known as Katibat Uqba ibn Nafi, which would later publicly 

identify itself as a battalion of al-Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb (AQIM). As 

this chapter discusses, however, it seems that Katibat Uqba ibn Nafi and 

AST are not actually distinct, but rather different facets of the same organization. During this period, Katibat Uqba ibn Nafi fought Tunisian security 

forces in the western part of the state, while AST was able to make dawa 

openly, including in urban areas.

The February 2013 assassination of secularist politician Chokri Belaïd 

was another significant point in the escalation. Though he was killed by an 

AST member, it is unclear who ordered or authorized his assassination and 

what strategic thinking guided it.

Belaïd’s assassination prompted a great deal of national attention and 

political pressure on the government, but no crackdown against AST. 

Thereafter, there were several more progressions in the escalating conflict 

between salafi jihadists and the Tunisian government. The state stepped up 

security operations in western Tunisia, and soldiers patrolling there suffered 

from frequent landmine attacks. The state also retaliated against AST in other ways, including interrupting public lectures and other AST dawa activities and cancelling the group’s annual conference in the city of Kairouan. 

But the period of escalation hit its apex during one week in late July 2013, 

when AST members gunned down another prominent secularist politician, 

Mohamed Brahmi, and took part in a Katibat Uqba ibn Nafi-led ambush in 

western Tunisia’s Jebel ech Chaambi mountains that killed eight soldiers, 

five of whom had their throats slit.6

This was an extraordinarily bloody week, especially by Tunisian standards. 

The eight soldiers killed in Jebel ech Chaambi represented the deadliest 

day in Tunisian military history to that point, and the slitting of their throats 

was an especially grotesque reminder of the brutalities inflicted by jihadists in neighboring Algeria during the country’s civil war. The two incidents 

occurring so close together marked a point of no return and ushered in 

the third phase of post-Ben Ali Tunisian jihadim’s life—state crackdown. This 

phase really began in August 2013, when Tunisia designated AST a terrorist 

organization and thus banned it. Thereafter, AST’s members were pursued, 

and both its militant activities and its public activities were interrupted.

The crackdown was going well from the state’s perspective in early 2014. 

Over the course of the year, however, the crackdown phase gradually gave 

6 Paul Schemm, “Jihadis Threaten Tunisia’s Arab Spring Transition,” Associated Press, 31 July 2013.
Ansar al-Sharia 17

way to a fourth phase—Tunisian jihadism’s recovery. AST and the connected organization Katibat Uqba ibn Nafi were able to carry out an increasing 

number of, and increasingly deadly, attacks as the year progressed. Most of 

these were concentrated in the western governorates of Kef and Kasserine, 

which border Algeria.

As Tunisia is now concerned with constraining jihadism’s growth, it has 

become clear how nearby safe havens can strengthen jihadist organizations. 

As Libya has become an incredibly hospitable environment for jihadists in 

the wake of Qaddafi’s fall, Tunisia has come to see Libya’s deterioration as 

its primary security challenge. Tunisian Prime Minister Mehdi Jomaa, for 

example, accurately described the situation in Libya as the greatest threat 

that Tunisia faces.7 Not only could Libya’s chaos spill over into Tunisia, but 

jihadist groups have been able to use Libyan territory to escape from Tunisia’s policing operations. AST emir Abu Iyad al-Tunisi, for example, has established connections with a variety of Libyan political Islamist and jihadist 

actors, and is believed to have found safe haven in the country once Tunisia 

moved to capture him. Growing numbers of Tunisian militants have also 

entered Libya to attend training camps.8 The terrorists who struck Tunis’s 

Bardo Museum in March 2015, killing 21 people, had received weapons 

training in Libya before carrying out that attack.9

Thus, Tunisia is in the unfortunate position where it cannot fully be the 

master of its own fate. This chapter examines the evolution of post-Ben Ali 

Salafi jihadism. But even as Tunisia continues to refine its approach to dealing with jihadist groups in the country, the future of the country’s security is 

also wedded to the broader picture of jihadism in North Africa.

AST’s Leadership and Organizational Structure

Leadership and Outlook

AST is led by 47-year-old Abu Iyad al-Tunisi, who was born Seifallah Ben 

Hassine. Abu Iyad has long-standing ties to international jihadism, which 

he established during his exile from Tunisia. In the 1990s, Abu Iyad spent 

time in Britain, where he associated with the UK-based jihadist figure Abu 

Qatada al-Filistini. Some jihadist forums have described Abu Iyad as Abu 

7 “Tunisia Prime Minister Sees Main Threat from Libya,” Associated Press, 3 January 2015.

8 Noureddine Baltayeb, “Tunisia Remains in the Crosshairs of the Libyan War,” Al-Akhbar, 11 December 

2014, http://english.al-akhbar.com/node/22847.

9 “Tunisia Museum Attackers ‘Trained in Libya’,” France 24, 20 March 2015, http://www.france24.com

/en/20150320-tunisia-museum-attackers-libya-training-islamic-state. 
18 The Crisis of the African State

Qatada’s “disciple,” and one AST member said that Abu Qatada is “probably the most influential” of the theorists who have the group’s ear.10 Abu 

Iyad also spent time in Afghanistan when al-Qaeda found refuge there prior 

to the 9/11 attacks. In 2000, he became one of the founders of the Tunisian 

Combatant Group (TCG), which facilitated the assassination of Northern 

Alliance leader Ahmad Shah Massoud just before al-Qaeda executed the 

9/11 attacks. Abu Iyad was arrested in Turkey in 2003, after which Turkish 

authorities extradited him to Tunisia. There, Ben Ali’s regime sentenced him 

to 43 years of imprisonment. Abu Iyad was released, however, following 

the revolution. Abu Iyad was then able to operate openly until AST played a 

major role in the September 2012 attack on the U.S. embassy in Tunis. The 

government issued an arrest warrant for Abu Iyad, which forced him into 

hiding. He is believed to have fled to Libya.

Even before AST was banned, few of the group’s other core leaders were 

named publicly. Those who were known included 37-year-old Hassan Ben 

Brik, who headed AST’s dawa committee; Ahmed al-Akrami, coordinator 

for AST’s medical and humanitarian convoys; and 33-year-old Sayf al-Din 

Ben Rayes, who produced sermons and statements on AST’s behalf. Several 

individuals with longstanding militant ties—Tarek Maaroufi, Sami bin Khamis 

bin Salih Essid, and Mehdi Kammoun—were also believed to have nonpublic roles in AST that related to its violent activities.11

According to Ben Brik, the founding members of AST had been active 

in Tunisia since 2003.12 Ben Brik mentioned their “experiences abroad” prior to their return to Tunisia, a clear reference to their activities as part of 

the transnational jihadist movement. The deep connections between AST’s 

founders and transnational jihadism would prove significant in many ways, 

including in forging an extremely close working relationship between AST 

and AQIM. AST’s founders were imprisoned after their return to Tunisia following their involvement in militancy abroad. Ben Brik claimed that, “We 

got to know each other in prison, and we began our work from there.”13

Ben Brik described the group’s political project as bringing sharia to Tunisia and, ultimately, to “the Arab world” beyond it. From the outset, AST fre10 Merone, “An Interview with a Member of Ansar al-Sharia.”

11 See Aaron Y. Zelin, “Who’s Who in Tunisia’s Salafi-Jihadi Community: A Look at Key Leaders of Ansar 

al-Sharia Tunisia,” Militant Leadership Monitor 6, no. 4 (April 2013): 10. 12 The information from Ben Brik can be found in Galasso, “Intervista ad Hassan Ben Brik.”

13 Ibid.
Ansar al-Sharia 19

quently expressed an affinity for al-Qaeda and its affiliates, even when the 

group was primarily focused on dawa. For example, after AQIM released a 

statement on 17 March 2013 calling for salafi jihadists in Tunisia to pursue 

the fight against secularism at home rather than going to Mali or elsewhere, 

high-level AST activist Mohamed Anis Chaieb praised its “calls to preserve 

the gains of the Tunisian revolution.”14 AST also praised al-Qaeda and transnational jihadism through its social media accounts, and distributed its multimedia propaganda onto jihadist Web forums regularly used by al-Qaeda 

and other jihadist groups. Italian researcher Fabio Merone’s interview with 

a young AST leader further reinforces AST’s allegiance with al-Qaeda and 

transnational jihadism, as the young man named those strongly associated 

with al-Qaeda and its affiliates—Abu Qatada, Abu Muhammad al-Maqdissi, 

Abu Basir al-Tartusi, Hani al-Siba’i, and Anwar al-Awlaki—as the group’s key 

influencers.15

Though some observers were skeptical that AST could be regarded as a 

jihadist organization during the early phase when the group was primarily 

focused on nonviolent evangelism—skepticism that was completely unwarranted, given AST’s associations and explanation of its goals—at this point, 

there is no room for doubt. AST has simply become more open over time 

about its place in transnational jihadism.

AST’s Organizational Structure

AST’s organizational structure was largely opaque from the time of the 

group’s inception. This was by design, as the group’s leaders were well 

aware that they could one day be banned and pursued. As Hassan Ben Brik 

explained when refusing to speak to an interviewer about the group’s structure, “all the members of Ansar al-Sharia are being targeted by the government and by the international community.”16 Since Tunisia designated AST a 

terrorist organization, its structure has become even more obscure, and the 

group was forced to adapt in ways that are not well understood.

Despite AST leaders’ hesitance to reveal organizational details, researchers were able to tease out some aspects of the group in its early stages. The 

fact that Abu Iyad is the emir of AST is well established, and it also became 

clear from social media postings and interviews with the group’s members 

14 “Qiyadi bil-Tayar al-Salafi al-Jihadi: Musta-idoon lil-Jihad did al-Ilmaniyeen bi-Tunis,” Al-Mogaz, 19 

March 2013.

15 Merone, “An Interview with a Member of Ansar al-Sharia.”

16 Galasso, “Intervista ad Hassan Ben Brik.”
20 The Crisis of the African State

that the AST had several divisions under its most senior leadership prior to 

the ban:

• The dawa office, which Ben Brik headed.17

• AST’s humanitarian activities, including its medical convoys.

• AST’s media activities, including the al-Bayariq Media Productions 

Foundation, AST’s Web site, and other online outlets for propaganda.

• A division that coordinates with local AST groups.18

• A clandestine military wing that included: 

¡ a “preparatory operations group” with six members; 

¡ a “support and implementation group” with eight members; 

and 

¡ a “mobilization and armament group” with two members.19

Some questions were raised early in AST’s existence about how hierarchical the organization was. For example, Merone’s AST interlocutor told him, 

“You should not think . . . that it is a top-down organization that emerged. On 

the contrary, it is a lightweight and decentralized movement, with an extended autonomy for the local groups, which are the real core of the movement.”20

While it is clear that local AST groups enjoyed a great deal of autonomy, however, sources loyal to AST had a clear incentive to portray the group as more 

decentralized than might actually be the case. By emphasizing the decentralized nature of the organization, AST tried—ultimately unsuccessfully—to ratchet up the level of violence it engaged in without triggering a state crackdown. 

Thus, the portrayal of AST as a “very decentralized” organization in the early 

days should be read with at least some skepticism. Further, “very decentralized” is a rather indeterminate description, particularly when it could simply 

mean that local branches take a great deal of initiative, which would not preclude directives being passed down from the group’s senior leadership.

Since AST was banned, its organizational structure has become increasingly opaque to researchers working from open sources. Though AST clearly 

undertook adaptations, the group’s specific adaptations are not clear. More17 Torelli, Merone, and Cavatorta, “Salafism in Tunisia,” 149. 18 The interview subject told Merone that this coordination is divided geographically by AST into northern, central, and southern regions. See Merone, “An Interview with a Member of Ansar al-Sharia.” 19 Mohammad Yassin al-Jalassi, “Tunisia Minister: Ansar al-Sharia Linked to Assassinations,” Al-Monitor, 29 August 2013, http://www.al-monitor.com/pulse/security/2013/08/ansar-al-sharia-connected-to

-assassinations.html#. For independent confirmation of AST’s clandestine military wing, see Aaron Y. 

Zelin, “Tunisia: Uncovering Ansar al-Sharia,” Think Africa Press, 25 October 2013. 20 Merone, “An Interview with a Member of Ansar al-Sharia.”
Ansar al-Sharia 21

over, a large percentage of the militant activities attributed to AST during its 

recovery phase were in fact carried out by Katibat Uqba ibn Nafi. Katibat Uqba 

ibn Nafi’s association with both AST and AQIM is well known, but the specific 

chain of command and key decision makers behind its attacks are not.

No reliable estimate of AST’s size existed even when it was operating openly, though it seems that official estimates tended to understate the group’s 

numbers. The most frequently cited figures as of 2013, at the beginning of 

AST’s escalation of violence, reported approximately 10,000 salafists in Tunisia, with around 3,000 identified as salafi jihadists. However, AST managed to 

draw between 3,000 and 10,000 attendees to the annual conference it held 

in Kairouan, while approximately 3,000 Tunisians went abroad to fight for jihadist groups in the Syrian civil war.21 Further, Tunisian religious affairs minister Noureddine el-Khadmi said in March 2012 that salafists controlled around 

400 of the country’s mosques through such mechanisms as demonizing the 

previous imams and forcing them out.22

The three aforementioned data points demonstrate conclusively that the 

most prevalent estimates of salafists and salafi jihadists in Tunisia were too 

low during AST’s dawa phase. Further, the Kairouan conference drew almost 

3,000 people by the lowest estimates, and the photographs that AST posted 

to its social media accounts make the numbers appear higher than 3,000. If 

there were only 3,000 salafi jihadists in Tunisia, all of them would have had to 

show up at the Kairouan conference.

AST’s International Connections

AST has had extensive connections to transnational jihadism since its inception. Indeed, its connections to other jihadist groups would become 

more apparent over time and, as this section explains, revelations made by 

the Tunisian government in 2013 paint AST as a covert branch of al-Qaeda.

Given Abu Iyad’s personal history, which included time in Britain’s jihadist scene, it is natural to begin with his contacts in the United Kingdom. 

Not only was Abu Iyad connected to Abu Qatada al-Filistini, but the British 

Broadcasting Corporation’s (BBC) monitoring service has also noted his 

connection to prominent Egyptian-born salafi jihadist scholar Hani al-Siba’i, 

21 For an estimate of Tunisian foreign fighters in Syria, see Richard Barrett, Foreign Fighters in Syria (New 

York: The Soufan Group, 2014), 13.

22 Agence France-Presse, “Extremists Control Hundreds of Tunisia’s Mosques: Religious Affairs Minister,” 

Al Arabiya News, 31 March 2012, http://www.alarabiya.net/articles/2012/03/31/204431.html.
22 The Crisis of the African State

who heads the al-Maqrizi Center for Historical Studies from London.23 AlSiba’i’s involvement in international jihadism runs even longer and deeper 

than Abu Iyad’s. For example, in February 1999, London’s Al-Hayah reported that al-Siba’i was then serving as the head of the media committee for 

Ayman al-Zawahiri’s Egyptian Islamic Jihad (EIJ).24 Al-Siba’i maintained his 

loyalty to Abu Iyad over the years, delivering a March 2012 video address 

sponsored by AST to a Tunisian salafi audience. When AST held its second 

annual Kairouan conference in May 2012, al-Siba’i was one of several foreign scholars to address the audience by video.

Some of the other prominent jihadist scholars who attended were, like 

al-Siba’i, born in Egypt. Ahmad Ashush issued a written statement expressing his “endorsement and support” of AST, hoping that the group would 

bring rule based on sharia to Tunisia. The Egyptian salafi jihadist cleric Marjan Salim issued a video address warning against discord amongst Muslims 

and pointing to the disaster that befell the “Islamic state” the Taliban had 

erected in Afghanistan. At the time al-Siba’i headed EIJ’s media committee, 

Salim ran its sharia committee, which Al-Hayah noted “involves preparing 

the group’s views on and reactions to matters pertaining to sharia, differences, and jurisprudence and responding to the criticism leveled against 

it.”25 More recently, Salim has been identified as “directing aspiring jihadis” 

to training camps in Libya.26

Major salafi jihadist figures from several other countries also expressed 

their support for AST at the Kairouan conference. Moroccan clerics Umar 

al-Haddushi and Hasan al-Kattani travelled to Tunisia to attend, only to be 

turned away when they tried to enter the country because the Tunisian government had placed them on a blacklist due to their involvement in terrorist attacks in Morocco. Jordanian cleric Abu Muhammad al-Tahawi, who 

has been heavily involved in spurring jihadists to enter the Syrian war, also 

contributed a video address. In it, he quoted bin Laden and urged a future 

revolution to incite a salafi takeover in place of the democratic system that 

is “the fetish of the modern era.”

AST also won the praise and endorsement of Abu Sa’d al-Amili, a prom23 “Tunisian Salafi Ansar al-Sharia Gaining Hard-Line Jihadist Support,” BBC Monitoring [in English], 24 

May 2012.

24 Muhammad Salah, “Jihad’s Organizational Structure,” Al-Hayah, 12 February 1999, 6. 25 Ibid.

26 Siobhan Gorman and Matt Bradley, “Militant Link to Libya Attack,” Wall Street Journal, 1 October 2012, 

http://www.wsj.com/articles/SB10000872396390444549204578020373444418316.
Ansar al-Sharia 23

inent online jihadist who appears to also be an official in al-Qaeda in the 

Arabian Peninsula (AQAP), al-Qaeda’s branch in Yemen.27 Abu Sa’d’s AQAP 

responsibilities included providing strategic advice to affiliates in North Africa and, during AST’s dawa-oriented phase, he referred to the group in several of his articles and messages. One 2012 article presented a roadmap for 

spreading salafi jihadist ideology in Tunisia. It did not specifically mention 

AST, but that was the most prominent group engaged in such work. Near 

the end of 2012, al-Amili issued a statement through AST’s media group, 

al-Bayariq Media Productions Foundation, that attacked Tunisia’s ruling Islamist political party (Ennahda) for its embrace of democracy. Al-Amili told 

AST members to be prepared to fight with “sword and pen.”28 And in January 2013, al-Amili wrote an editorial in the Global Islamic Media Front’s 

magazine Sada al-Jihad (Echo of Jihad) praising the challenge AST posed 

to Tunisia’s “false” government.

AST’s most operationally significant connection to another major jihadist 

group has been its ties to AQIM, which has been extremely clear about its 

affinity for AST and the fact that they share a common goal, releasing multiple statements about AST. For example, in an April 2013 media release 

that answered questions directed to the group over Twitter, the director of 

AQIM’s al-Andalus Media Foundation stated that AST were AQIM’s “brothers, we are from them and they are from us.”29 He further stated, “We appreciate the project of our brothers Ansar al-Sharia and bless it, and call the 

youth of Tunisia to support and cooperate with them.”30 But AQIM’s connections to AST clearly run deeper than just public expressions of support.

When the Tunisian government announced that it was banning AST, it 

made several sets of revelations about the organization’s relationship to 

al-Qaeda. The most significant connection alleged was a handwritten “Allegiance Act” between AST emir Abu Iyad al-Tunisi and AQIM emir Abu Musab Abdel Wadoud.31 If the claim of the Allegiance Act is accurate, then AST 

appears to have been functioning, since the signing of the document, as an 

27 See Daveed Gartenstein-Ross, “Al-Qaeda’s Influential Online Strategist: Abu Sa’d al-Amili,” Militant 

Leadership Monitor 4, no. 10 (October 2013): 8–10. 28 Daveed Gartenstein-Ross, Ansar al-Sharia Tunisia’s International Connections (The Hague: International Centre for Counter-Terrorism, 21 March 2013).

29 AQIM, “Journalistic Encounter with the Director of al-Andalus Media Foundation,” Jihadology, 18 April 

2013, 17.

30 Ibid., 25.

31 “Tunisia Says Ansar al-Sharia Was Planning More Assassinations, Bombings,” Tunis Afrique Presse, 29 

August 2013.
24 The Crisis of the African State

unacknowledged al-Qaeda affiliate: an organization subordinate to AQIM 

within al-Qaeda’s hierarchy, with AST’s emir having taken bayat (pledge) to 

AQIM’s emir. Lending further credence to this conclusion, allegations of an 

Allegiance Act are consistent with claims made by captured members of 

Katibat Uqba ibn Nafi. Algerian security forces arrested Riadh Toufi, one of 

the Katibat’s founding members, on 18 November 2013.32 During his interrogation, Toufi described Abu Iyad as nothing more than a “marionette,” 

claiming that AQIM held all the power and that Abu Iyad followed AQIM’s 

dictates.33 The existence of an Allegiance Act is also consistent with the operational connections between AST and AQIM, a large part of which are focused on Katibat Uqba ibn Nafi, the joint military venture of AST and AQIM. 

Additionally, an Allegiance Act is also consistent with the claims of Mustapha Ben Amor, Tunisia’s director general of national security, who said that 

government investigations found that AST’s financing comes from “external 

and internal sources,” with the external sources located in such countries as 

Yemen, Libya, and Mali, all of which have a significant al-Qaeda presence.34

AST’s response to these revelations was a rather weak denial claiming that 

the group was “not tied to any outside group.” However, the statement also 

acknowledged that “regarding our loyalty to Qaedat al Jihad and the jihadi 

formations, we have declared it from the first day and we are not ashamed 

to renew today our declaration with a louder voice.”35

Indeed, the strategy that AST pursued in Tunisia was consistent with the 

course that major al-Qaeda-affiliated strategists and ideologues encouraged other jihadist groups to pursue in the post-Arab Spring environment.36

These strategists unanimously agreed that the changes gripping the region 

were good for their cause: in addition to producing the kind of widespread 

instability necessary for a utopian movement to attain its grandiose goals, 

the regime changes would likely present unprecedented opportunities to 

32 “L’Armée Algérienne Arrête un Libyen en Relation avec les Terroristes de Chaâmbi,” Mosaique FM, 18 

November 2013. 

33 “Abou Yadh, Marionnette de Abou El Hammam!,” Investir en Tunisie, 21 November 2013, http://www

.investir-en-tunisie.net/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=23201:-tunisie--abou-yadh

-marionnette-de-abou-el-hammam-&catid=95:politique-social&Itemid=317.

34 Yasm, “Al-Qaeda Funds Ansar al-Sharia, Tunisia Reveals,” allAfrica, 29 August 2013, http://allafrica

.com/stories/201308300788.html. 35 Thomas Joscelyn, “Ansar al Sharia Responds to Tunisian Government,” Long War Journal, 3 September 2013, http://www.longwarjournal.org/archives/2013/09/ansar_al_sharia_tuni_6.php.

36 For a discussion of al-Qaeda ideologues’ perspective on advancing the jihadist movement after the 

Arab Spring, see Daveed Gartenstein-Ross and Tara Vassefi, “Perceptions of the ‘Arab Spring’ Within the 

Salafi-Jihadi Movement,” Studies in Conflict & Terrorism 35, no. 12 (2012): 831–48.
Ansar al-Sharia 25

undertake dawa.37 AST accordingly adopted a dawa-focused strategy in the 

immediate wake of Ben Ali’s fall.

However, the jihadist movement has never been satisfied constraining 

itself to nonviolent activism. Jihadist writer Hamzah bin Muhammad alBassam, while urging a focus on dawa, also articulated the ultimate need 

for the movement to engage in violence. Without violence, al-Bassam reasoned, salafi jihadism would become just one of a number of different 

“intellectual trends.”38 In other words, even while the movement gathers 

strength through preaching, it should see violence as its eventual trump 

over other competing visions. Accordingly, AST not only built up its covert 

military capabilities, but also engaged in, and over time ramped up, its hisba violence; and the group eventually turned toward a strategy that favored 

jihad violence over other forms of activism.

AST’s Dawa-Focused Phase

When AST primarily focused on dawa, there were two constraints on its use 

of violence. First, the organization tried to keep its overall levels of violence 

within what might be termed “acceptable bounds,” that is, a level that would 

not trigger a state crackdown. In doing so, AST seemingly attempted to increase the amount of violence that might occur without the state getting involved. This approach ultimately failed: AST’s actions eventually did prompt 

a state crackdown. Second, the organization tried to undertake violence without alienating the population. In other words, independent of the state security apparatus, AST was wary that its hisba or jihad activities might interfere 

with its dawa, which was more important to the group at this stage. The three 

prongs of AST’s strategy during this phase are dawa, hisba, and jihad.

Dawa

As one Malaysian academic has noted, dawa “refers to calling or inviting people to embrace Islam. Though not an article of the Islamic faith, Muslims are 

urged to be actively engaged in dawa activities.”39 Most frequently, however, salafi jihadists’ dawa efforts are focused not on leading non-Muslims to 

37 See Hamzah bin Muhammad al-Bassam, “Heeding the Advantages and Lessons of the Two Uprisings 

in Egypt and Tunisia,” Ansar Dawlat al-Iraq al-Islamiyah, 25 February 2011; and Atiyatallah Abd al-Rahman, “The People’s Revolt . . . The Fall of Corrupt Arab Regimes . . . The Demolition of the Idol of Stability 

. . . and the New Beginning,” Global Islamic Media Front, 16 February 2011.

38 Al-Bassam, “Heeding the Advantages and Lessons of the Two Uprisings in Egypt and Tunisia.”

39 See Munawar Haque’s review of Sohirin M. Solihin, Islamic Da’wah: Theory and Practice (Kuala Lumpur: International Islamic University Malaysia Press, 2008), in Intellectual Discourse 17, no. 1 (2009): 119.
26 The Crisis of the African State

Islam, but on persuading other Muslims to accept their version of the faith.

In undertaking dawa efforts while it could operate legally, AST made its 

presence felt in some traditional ways: forcing out old imams at mosques 

and capturing key leadership positions, holding dawa events at markets 

or universities, holding public protests, and dominating physical spaces 

(such as cafés) near places of worship. But AST also had some innovative 

approaches to dawa, including providing social services (something that 

other militant Islamic groups like Hezbollah and Hamas have also done) 

and using social media.

AST’s social services activity included distributing food, clothing, and 

basic supplies, as well as sponsoring convoys that provided both medical 

care and medicine. These efforts concentrated on areas of Tunisia typically 

neglected by the government, such as rural and impoverished areas. AST’s 

social services were usually accompanied by distribution of literature designed to propagate its ideology. While AST constantly engaged in efforts 

to provide social services, it did not reach the same areas consistently. This 

gap is where AST’s savvy use of social media became particularly relevant. 

Almost immediately after it undertook humanitarian efforts, AST would post 

information about its most recent venture—including photographs—to its 

Facebook page and other Web sites. Thus, social media served as a force 

multiplier, as its social media activity illustrated a rapid pace of humanitarian assistance throughout the country.

Two things are worth noting about AST’s dawa strategy. First is the context in which this work was undertaken. The Tunisian economy was, during 

this time, poor; and it has only grown worse subsequently. The country’s 

youth were hit particularly hard. As Monica Marks writes, “Across the ideological spectrum, from leftist communists to jihadi Salafis, young people 

speak of being neglected and deceived by their political leaders. Significant numbers of Tunisian youth hold college degrees but cannot find employment.”40 Because of this situation, she concluded that “the desperation 

and discontent that drove many young people to protest in the early weeks 

of the revolution are still present today.”41

Tunisia has suffered from maldistribution of resources for some time; 

under Ben Ali, the coastal cities experienced relatively strong economic 

40 Marks, “Youth Politics and Tunisian Salafism,” 110. 41 Ibid.; and Mongi Boughzala, Youth Employment and Economic Transition in Tunisia, Global Working 

Papers No. 51 (Washington, DC: Brookings Institution, January 2013).
Ansar al-Sharia 27

growth, while cities in the country’s interior and south benefited little from 

this prosperity.42 Thus, even before the revolution, “marginalized areas” 

within Tunisia were the most “significant sources of recruits to the Islamist 

movement.”43 This structural problem of wealth distribution continues, and 

AST was able to win sympathy and recruits in some of these marginalized 

areas. AST positioned itself as a critic of the status quo writ large, and portrayed itself as a champion of those neglected by the system.

A second aspect of AST’s dawa efforts worth noting is the likelihood of 

foreign sponsorship of at least some of AST’s activities.44 Although AST collected donations at mosques during Friday prayers, the economy in Tunisia 

was dim enough that these donations likely did not cover all of the group’s 

humanitarian expenses, particularly those related to its distribution of medicine. The pictures, videos, and information that AST posted on its Facebook 

page suggests another source of funding; in at least one case, it received 

medical supplies from the Kuwaiti charity, Revival of Islamic Heritage Society (RIHS), which is known as the Society for Preservation of Islamic Heritage 

in Tunisia.

The fact that the RIHS may have been involved in supporting a jihadist 

group in Tunisia will come as no surprise to seasoned observers of militant financing. The U.S. Department of the Treasury designated the RIHS a 

sponsor of terrorism in 2008 “for providing financial and material support 

to al-Qaeda and al-Qaeda affiliates, including Lashkar e-Tayyiba, Jemaah 

Islamiyah, and Al-Itihaad al-Islamiya.”45 The Treasury also charged RIHS with 

providing financial support specifically for terrorist acts. RIHS did not constitute AST’s only established connection to sympathetic foreign organizations. The literature it distributed at dawa events could be traced to at least 

three publishing houses in Saudi Arabia: Dar al-Qassem, based in Riyadh; 

Dar al-Tarafen, based in Taif; and the Cooperative Office for the Call and 

Guidance and Education Communities, based in Dammam.

42 Ahmed Jdey, “A History of Tunisia, January 14, 2011: The End of a Dictator and the Beginning of Democratic Construction,” boundary 2 39, no. 1 (2012): 69–86. 43 Alison Pargeter, “Localism and Radicalization in North Africa: Local Factors and the Development of 

Political Islam in Morocco, Tunisia and Libya,” International Affairs 85, no. 5 (2009): 1036. 44 This discussion of AST’s probable foreign sponsorship is adapted from Daveed Gartenstein-Ross and 

Aaron Y. Zelin, “Uncharitable Organizations,” Foreign Policy, 26 February 2013, where the phenomenon 

of foreign sponsorship of jihadist groups—in Tunisia and beyond—is discussed in detail.

45 U.S. Department of the Treasury, Press Center, “Kuwaiti Charity Designated for Bankrolling al Qaida Network,” HP-1023, 13 June 2008, http://www.treasury.gov/press-center/press-releases/Pages

/hp1023.aspx.
28 The Crisis of the African State

Many questions remain about AST’s foreign sources of support, both 

then and now. Nonetheless, the available evidence is suggestive, and analysts should continue to explore and attempt to map foreign sources working to strengthen AST and other Tunisian jihadist groups.

Hisba

While the concepts of dawa and jihad are likely familiar to most readers, 

many are likely unfamiliar with hisba. The obligation of “commanding right 

and forbidding wrong” is an important Islamic concept discussed in the 

Qur’an.46 As Michael Cook explains in his comprehensive study, the wellknown Sunni scholar Ghazzali “adopted the word hisba as a general term 

for ‘forbidding wrong’.”47

Hisba amplified AST’s message, as there were numerous incidents of 

Tunisian salafi jihadists employing violence against their opponents. It is 

worth noting, of course, that any given act of violence linked to salafi jihadism could have been carried out by individuals unaffiliated with AST. This 

ambiguity is consistent with AST’s effort to maintain doubt about its use 

of violence during this period. The fact that it was unclear whether AST or 

other salafi jihadists were responsible for any given act of hisba violence 

allowed the group to increase the virulence of its actions without being 

targeted in a crackdown during this period.

This section details the phenomenon of salafist vigilantism (hisba violence) 

in Tunisia during AST’s dawa-focused phase.48 Given the difficulties determining which specific hisba violence AST was responsible for, this section examines salafi vigilantism as a complete phenomenon without distinguishing 

between AST-linked actions and those not attributable to the organization.

One group that felt particularly targeted in the early days after the revolution was Tunisian women, who believed that the societal pressures directed 

at them were mounting. These pressures were not entirely attributable to 

salafi jihadists—there are other conservative religious segments of Tunisian 

society—but salafi jihadists were an important part of this picture.

Since its independence from France in 1956, Tunisia has had one of the 

most progressive legal systems in the Arab world with respect to women’s 

46 See Qur’an 3:104, 3:110, and 9:71.

47 Michael Cook, Commanding Right and Forbidding Wrong in Islamic Thought (Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 2010).

48 This section is adapted from Daveed Gartenstein-Ross, “Springtime for Salafists,” Foreign Policy, 26 

March 2013.
Ansar al-Sharia 29

rights.49 Until the 2011 revolution, the Tunisian state viewed “the presence 

or absence of hijab” as “a key component” distinguishing modernity from 

tradition.50 In addition to imposing some legal restrictions on women’s ability to wear hijab (or cover), the state actively framed it as a part of the past 

that civil society was moving beyond. A study examining the symbolism 

of the hijab under Ben Ali written by Simon Hawkins persuasively demonstrates that the state took great pains to associate the hijab with a tradition 

that, while deserving of respect, society would inevitably leave behind as 

it embraced modernity; young women who did not wear hijab were portrayed as central to the country’s more enlightened and liberated future.51

Since the revolution, however, many Tunisian women perceived increasing 

societal pressures and harassment directed at their manner of dress. Consequently, some women changed the way they dressed unwillingly, including donning the hijab as a protective measure.52

Tunisia’s earliest known postrevolution act of vigilante violence targeted 

female prostitutes. Though maisons closes (brothels) have been legal in Tunisia since 1942, Der Spiegel reported that, in February 2011, a crowd of 

“several hundred outraged citizens” gathered near a maison close in Tunis 

on a Friday, the Muslim day of prayer, to protest the presence of prostitutes.53 The protesters came armed with “sticks and torches in hand,” but 

were stopped by both the Tunisian military and “a militia of pimps, porters, 

and day laborers.” Attacks on prostitutes quickly spread, with maisons closes being set aflame in such cities as Kairouan, Médenine, Sfax, and Sousse. 

During some of these attacks, the prostitutes “were hunted down and beaten.”54

Other women were physically attacked for lesser affronts to public morals than prostitution. In the working class Tunis neighborhood of Intilaka, 

a street vendor scolded journalist Zeineb Rezgui for wearing a sleeveless 

49 Nagwa Megahed and Stephen Lack, “Colonial Legacy, Women’s Rights and Gender-Educational Inequality in the Arab World with Particular Reference to Egypt and Tunisia,” International Review of Education 57, no. 3 (2011): 397–418. 50 Simon Hawkins, “Who Wears Hijab with the President: Constructing a Modern Islam in Tunisia,” Journal of Religion in Africa 41, no. 1 (2011): 38. 51 Ibid., 45–46.

52 Jamie Dettmer, “Tunisia’s Dark Turn,” Daily Beast, 17 March 2013, http://www.thedailybeast.com

/articles/2013/03/17/tunisia-s-dark-turn.html.

53 Alexander Smoltczyk, “Islamist Intimidation: The Battle for the Future of Tunisia,” Der Spiegel, 5 December 2012, http://www.spiegel.de/international/world/salafist-intimidation-campaign-threatens-young

-democracy-in-tunisia-a-870680.html.

54 Ibid.
30 The Crisis of the African State

summer dress.55 As Rezgui recounted, “I tried to talk to him, but all of a sudden he jumped and slapped me hard on my neck. I fell on the ground, he 

started kicking me. About five other men, also with long beards, some wearing long tunics, joined him. They were kicking and punching me all over my 

body. The rest of the people were just watching and nobody dared to approach.”56 Similar attacks occurred in the northwestern city of Jendouba.57

Though violence targeting women was the first sign, salafi vigilante violence rapidly spread to other sectors of Tunisian society. One critical battlefield relates to the debate over free expression. The ability to discuss vital 

issues robustly is critical to any democratic society, and an array of Tunisian salafist groups moved to short-circuit the conversation. They launched 

attacks and intimidation campaigns against artists and public intellectuals 

whose work they thought transgressed the moral standards appropriate for 

an Islamic society.

One of the earliest attacks on artists occurred on 9 April 2011. Director Nouri Bouzid—a film director with outspoken anti-Islamist views—was stabbed in 

the head by a bearded student who shouted “Allahu Akbar!” (God is great) 

before delivering the blow. Bouzid fortunately survived the attack, which 

he attributed to his “pro-secular stands and rejection of [extremist Islamic] 

culture.”58 In June 2011, an art house cinema in Tunis planned to show a 

movie about secularism that many salafists viewed as heretical. In response, 

“a gang of salafists forcibly entered” the theater and “sprayed tear gas and 

roughed up the management.”59 The cinema has been closed ever since.

An even more striking string of incidents occurred in October 2011, 

when the TV station Nessma showed Persepolis, an animated film that many 

conservative Muslims found blasphemous because it contains a scene depicting God, which is anathema to stricter interpretations of the faith. After 

the controversy flared up, the owner of the station, Nebil Karoui, issued 

an apology for broadcasting the film. Nonetheless, a number of preachers 

devoted their Friday sermons to denouncing Nessma, after which a mob 

55 This incident was reported by Sarah Leah Whitson, “Letter to Tunisian Minister of Interior and Minister of Justice,” Human Rights Watch, 14 October 2012, http://www.hrw.org/news/2012/10/14/letter

-tunisian-minister-interior-and-minister-justice.

56 Ibid. 57 Sana Ajmi, “Clashes Between Salafists and Police in Northwestern City of Tunisia,” Tunisia Live, 22 

February 2012.

58 Andrew Gilligan, “Tunisia: Birthplace of the Arab Spring Fears Islamist Resurgence,” Telegraph (UK), 

28 May 2011.

59 Smoltczyk, “Islamist Intimidation.”
Ansar al-Sharia 31

of approximately 300 people attacked the Nessma studios in an attempt to 

set fire to them.60 This violence was followed a week later by an assault on 

Karoui’s home. As Middle East Online reported, an armed mob of “about 

a hundred men, some of whom threw Molotov cocktails,” laid siege to his 

house.61 Twenty members of the mob were able to get inside. Karoui’s family was home at the time, though he was not, and they barely managed to 

escape. In a disturbing footnote to these incidents, the government’s response was to call for “respect for sacred things” and, in May 2012, Karoui 

was fined by a Tunisian court for “disturbing public order and attacking 

moral values” for showing the film in the first place.62

At the same time salafists tried to leave their imprimatur on the art world, 

they also sought to dominate discourse in the civil and religious spheres. 

There were numerous instances of salafists showing up in mosques and 

demonizing the previous imams, accusing them of being collaborators with 

the old regime. These actions facilitated the salafi—and also salafi jihadist—

takeover of an estimated 400 Tunisian mosques in the days before AST’s 

ban. Salafi vigilantes also attempted to control the religious sphere by targeting Islamic practices regarded as deviant. A sufi shrine in the small town 

of Akuda, 85 miles south of Tunis, was set ablaze by salafists in January 

2013, the 35th such attack in a seven-month period.63

Salafi vigilante violence also extended to non-Islamic faiths. In September 2011, a group of salafists occupied the Christian basilica in the northwestern city of El Kef with the intention of turning it into a mosque.64 In 

March 2013, salafis attacked two Italians and two Tunisians in the southeastern coastal town of Zarzis, under the erroneous impression that they were 

promoting Christianity.65

Education was another heavily contested area. At Manouba University 

(in Manouba, Tunisia), outrage boiled over into violence after university ad60 “Protesters Attack TV Station Over Film Persepolis,” BBC News, 9 October 2011, http://www.bbc.com

/news/world-africa-15233442.

61 “Tunisia Salafist Autumn: Extremists Attack Nessma TV Chief’s House,” Middle East Online, 15 October 

2011, http://middle-east-online.com/english/?id=48548.

62 “Outrage over #PersepolisTrial Verdict,” Al Jazeera, 4 May 2012. 63 “Series of Attacks Against Tunisia Shrines Continues: Sufis Accuse Wahhabis,” Middle East Online, 23 

January 2013, http://www.middle-east-online.com/english/?id=56615.

64 Agence France-Presse, “Muslims Bid to Turn Christian Site into Mosque,” 16 September 2012.

65 “Tunisie—De Nombreuses Agressions à Zarzis Dont Celle de Deux Italiens,” Business News, 21 

March 2013, http://www.businessnews.com.tn/Tunisie—De-nombreuses-agressions-à-Zarzis-dont-celle

-de-deux-Italiens-,520,37024,3.
32 The Crisis of the African State

ministrators decided to reaffirm the presidential decree issued in 1981 that 

prohibited female students from wearing the niqab (face covering) in class. 

Salafis denounced the ban and also demanded an end to coeducation.66

During the course of several contentious months, salafis briefly took Habib 

Kazdaghli, the dean of the college of letters, as a hostage. “Salafists are not 

letting us do our job. Whenever us professors try to apply the university’s 

law, we get physically attacked,” said English professor Radhia Jaidi. “The 

Faculté des Lettres is no  longer a safe environment for us to teach in.”67

During the ongoing dispute, a salafi ripped down the Tunisian flag and replaced it with a black flag bearing the shahadah, Islam’s declaration of faith.

Other Tunisian universities saw similar open confrontations between secularists and salafists,68 but such incidents were not confined to the university 

level. A group of salafists broke into a secondary school in Menzel Bouzelfa 

in April 2013 and physically and verbally assaulted the principal, who had 

barred entry to a female student wearing a niqab. The principal had to be 

hospitalized.69

Another sphere that salafi vigilantes attempted to control was that of private vice by way of numerous attacks on hotel bars and alcohol vendors. In 

one September incident, an estimated 50 activists burst into a bar in Sidi 

Bouzid’s Hotel Horchani, where they smashed bottles and chased customers, while yelling “al-saharab haram” (drinking is a sin). “A young man who 

tried to film the raid was beaten by members of the group and taken to an 

unknown location,” Agence France-Presse reported.70

A final category of attack was directed at civil society activists, those most 

likely to present Tunisia with an alternative course to salafism. A harrowing 

letter that Human Rights Watch (HRW) sent to the Tunisian interior minister 

and justice minister in 2012 documented these assaults.71 Rajab Magri, who 

was part of a group that disrupted the aforementioned salafi occupation 

66 “Salafists Besiege Tunisian University: Dean, Professors Taken Hostage,” Middle East Online, 29 November 2011, http://www.middle-east-online.com/english/?id=49271.

67 Nura Suleiman, “The Disintegrating Fabric of Tunisian Politics: The Niqab Ban and Tunisian Flag 

Desecration at Manouba University,” Jadaliyya, 13 April 2012, http://www.jadaliyya.com/pages/index

/5037/the-disintegrating-fabric-of-tunisian-politics_the.

68 “Sousse University Attack: Armed Group Attacks Tunisian College Because of Face Veils,” Huffington Post, 

6 October 2012, http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2011/10/06/sousse-university-attack-_n_998702.html.

69 “Lycée de Menzel Bouzelfa—Un Directeur Agressé par des Salafistes,” allAfrica, 11 April 2013. 70 Agence France-Presse, “Islamists Attack Tunisia Hotel Bar,” Al Arabiya News, 3 September 2012, http://

english.alarabiya.net/articles/2012/09/03/235930.html.

71 Whitson, “Letter to Tunisian Minister of Interior and Minister of Justice.”
Ansar al-Sharia 33

of the basilica in El Kef, told HRW that he was targeted by salafis after the 

fact—first on Facebook and then in person. In May 2012, salafi activists ambushed him on an El Kef street. “They started kicking and punching me all 

over my body, they grabbed me by the hair and started hitting my head on 

the pavement,” he reported. “I was almost unconscious. They were insulting 

me, calling me a kafir (infidel) and shouting that they will kill me.”72

Other activists had similar stories. Jaouhar Ben Mbarek, a spokesman 

for the secular political list Doustourna, recounted how salafis vilified his 

party’s activists on Facebook after they began planning a series of meetings in southern Tunisia. The war of words led to a Doustourna meeting in 

a southern village being attacked by 40–50 bearded men.73 “They started 

beating people in the room at random, throwing chairs at people, and kicking them,” Ben Mbarek recounted. “When they saw me, they left everybody 

else and rushed towards me. They surrounded me and started kicking me. 

Two of them forced me to kneel, someone grabbed me by the hair and 

shouted, ‘Where is the knife?’ as if he wanted to slaughter me.”

Unfortunately, the police response to acts of salafi violence was often 

tepid up until the crackdown against AST. HRW reported on police inaction 

following multiple attacks. In Magri’s case, police took no action after two 

separate assaults, and one officer told him that they could not arrest one of 

the attackers because “his emir threatened to set the city on fire if they do.” 

Zeyneb Rezgui, the female journalist who was attacked in Tunis, reported a 

similar explanation for police inaction. A police officer said that her attackers “threatened him and vowed to burn his house and kill his family if they 

did anything against him.”74

Again, it is impossible to say with certainty which of these salafi hisba 

attacks could be attributed to AST. Some of the violence is almost certainly unconnected to the organization. Conversely, the attacks related to the 

Nessma TV station appear particularly likely to have been the work of AST, 

a conclusion shared by local observers.75 Further, the intimidation of police 

had strategic benefits for AST, pushing the boundaries of acceptable violence and highlighting the fact that security forces will suffer for going after 

salafi groups.

72 Ibid.

73 Houda Mzioudet, “Tunisia: Head of Leftist Independent List Assaulted during Political Meeting in 

Southwestern Region,” allAfrica, 22 April 2012. 74 Whitson, “Letter-to Tunisian Minister of Interior and Minister of Justice.”

75 Sayah, “Qui a Attaqué l’Ambassade des Etats-Unis.”
34 The Crisis of the African State

Jihad

Before the crackdown on AST, Abu Iyad affirmed on multiple occasions that 

Tunisia was a land of dawa rather than a land of jihad. But AST also made 

no secret of the fact that it supported jihad abroad and, even in its dawafocused phase, AST was preparing for eventual confrontation with the state.

Tunisia has had the largest number of foreign fighters travel from its territory to fight with militant groups in Syria, an estimated 3,000, while other 

Tunisians have fought in Mali. However, in February 2013, Abu Iyad “advised 

Tunisians not to migrate to Syria or other active jihad fronts but to stay in the 

country and carry out peaceful jihad there.”76 In other words, salafi jihadists 

were needed more on the home front, advancing the movement’s agenda 

in Tunisia, rather than going abroad. Abu Iyad’s advice in this regard was 

consistent with a statement AQIM released on 17 March 2013 in which the 

group said Tunisians should combat secularism at home rather than fighting 

in Mali. According to Abu Iyad, there was an exception for those who had 

“special skills.” Yet despite these words discouraging Tunisians from fighting 

abroad, AST’s media wing continued to issue eulogies for Tunisians killed 

while fighting as a part of Jabhat al-Nusra (JN or al-Nusra Front), the Syrian jihadist group.77 Further, when a reporter for Echourouk El-Youmi visited 

northern Mali while it was under hard-line Islamist control, he interacted with 

a number of foreigners who reportedly “talked about themselves” and their 

experiences with several regional jihadist groups, including AST.78

In addition to jihad abroad, there is the issue of AST and jihad violence 

at home. One early act of jihad violence that AST was engaged in at home 

occurred on 14 September 2012, when hundreds of protesters turned up 

at the U.S. embassy in Tunis following the controversial privately made film 

satirizing the Prophet Muhammad called The Innocence of Muslims. The protesters were able to overrun security and ransack not only the embassy, but 

also a nearby American school. Four people were killed and 46 injured in 

skirmishes.79 AST played a major role in organizing the demonstrations, as 

it used its Facebook page to encourage Tunisians to protest in front of the 

76 “Jihadists See Tunisia Assassination as Conspiracy Against Islamists,” BBC Monitoring [in English], 14 

February 2013.

77 See “Al-Bayariq Media Establishment Video Eulogizes Tunisian Member of Al-Nusrah Front,” Ansar 

al-Mujahedin Network, 14 March 2013. 78 “Salafist Group in Timbuktu Wants Return of Islamic Caliphate,” Echourouk el-Youmi (Algeria), 26 April 2012.

79 “Tunisia Death Toll Rises to Four in U.S. Embassy Attack,” Reuters, 15 September 2012, http://www

.reuters.com/article/2012/09/15/us-protests-tunisia-idUSBRE88E09020120915.
Ansar al-Sharia 35

U.S. embassy. AST members, including Abu Iyad, were seen at the demonstration. Though many other Tunisians turned up to demonstrate, including 

nonsalafists, local eyewitnesses believe that AST initiated the clashes.80 The 

attack ended up being extremely disruptive to U.S. diplomatic efforts in Tunisia. American officials ordered the evacuation of U.S. personnel from Tunisia, 

and many who had been working at the embassy had to leave without even 

packing their belongings. Some of the other second-order consequences, 

such as new security procedures, have made it more difficult for American 

diplomats to do their jobs effectively.

During this dawa-focused period, AST was also preparing for future confrontation with the state. Arms were frequently smuggled into Tunisia through 

the country’s porous borders, sometimes resulting in clashes between security forces and smugglers. Several political figures linked this flow of arms to 

jihadist groups. For example, Tunisia’s then-prime minister, Hamadi Jebali, 

commented in December 2012 that, “Due to the Libyan revolution and disturbances in Mali, some terrorist organizations took the opportunity to smuggle arms into Tunisia.”81

AST would continue to ratchet up its level of violence over time, prompting 

the Tunisian state’s crackdown and dramatically changing the relationship 

between the group and the state.

AST’s Escalation

An increasing sequence of attacks by AST contributed to an open conflict 

between the group and the Tunisian state. Though it is hard to pinpoint a 

definitive beginning to the escalation, the most persuasive inflection point 

came in December 2012, when militants shot and killed Anis Jelassi, an adjutant in the Tunisian National Guard, in the Kasserine governorate.82 This 

incident prompted Tunisian authorities to identify, for the first time, the 

militant group known as Katibat Uqba ibn Nafi. The February 2013 assassination of secularist politician Chokri Belaïd marked another escalation.

Thereafter, several more progressions occurred in the escalating conflict 

between AST and the government. Tunisia stepped up its security operations 

in Jebel ech Chaambi after frequent landmine attacks. In May, the government interrupted public lectures and other AST dawa activities, then can80 Sayah, “Qui a Attaqué l’Ambassade des Etats-Unis.”

81 Amira Masrour, “Prime Minister Jebali Addresses Arms Trafficking in Tunisia,” Tunisia Live, 13 December 2012.

82 “Décès de l’Adjudant Anis Jelassi dans des Affrontements à Feriana.”
36 The Crisis of the African State

celled the group’s annual conference in Kairouan. While cancelling the event 

put the conflict between AST and the government in increasingly uncharted territory, tensions between the two reached their climax in late July. In a 

one-week period at the end of July, another prominent secularist politician, 

Mohamed Brahmi, was gunned down by assassins, and a jihadist ambush in 

Jebel ech Chaambi left “eight soldiers dead–five with slit throats.”83 This was 

finally a point of no return, though it is not clear that AST intended it to be 

so. The decision to ambush and kill the soldiers may have been made by the 

Katibat’s field commanders rather than AST’s leadership, nor is it clear that 

AST’s leadership ordered Brahmi’s killing.

Violence in Jebel ech Chaambi

Katibat Uqba ibn Nafi was described as a “shadowy group” by one of the 

analysts who first took notice of it.84 This was by design: both of the major 

organizations associated with Katibat—AQIM and AST—have largely clandestine structures and operate in a surreptitious manner.

Several aspects of Katibat’s structure have been reported in open sources. One regional analyst explains that the “basic unit” of an organization 

like Katibat is the serrya, an Arabic military term referring to a company. The 

analyst continues that each serrya includes about 15 men, and several such 

groups “form a katiba (battalion) which includes 50 to 80 men.”85 Katibat, 

according to Tunisian officials, includes at least two serryas. Authorities are 

not certain of the number of members in each serrya, but their estimates are 

around 30 men, which is consistent with what is known about the militants’ 

conception of a serrya.86 The serryas have been able to maintain a consistent level of activity even though authorities have killed or captured many 

members, thus suggesting that the Katibat’s structure is designed to make 

it resilient in the face of losses.87 Katibat Uqba ibn Nafi has Algerian and 

Tunisian members, further underscoring the manner in which it operates in 

83 Schemm, “Jihadis Threaten Tunisia’s Arab Spring Transition.”

84 Andrew Lebovich, “Confronting Tunisia’s Jihadists,” Foreign Policy, 16 May 2013. 85 Col Mohamed Kasdallah, “Terrorists in Tunisia Adopt ‘Asymmetric’ Warfare Tactics,” Al-Monitor, 11 November 2013, http://www.al-monitor.com/pulse/security/2013/11/tunisia-terrorists-asymmetric-warfare.html#.

86 “Deux Militaires Tués dans une Explosion au Jebel Chaambi,” Jeune Afrique, 6 June 2013; and “Des 

Groupes Liés à Al-Qaida Recherchés en Tunisie,” Le Monde, 7 May 2013. 87 For a discussion of how the structure of clandestine militant organizations can enable their resiliency, 

see Derek Jones, Understanding the Form, Function, and Logic of Clandestine Insurgent and Terrorist 

Networks: The First Steps in Effective Counternetwork Operations (MacDill Air Force Base, FL: Joint Special Operations University, 2012).
Ansar al-Sharia 37

both countries and connects AST to AQIM.88 Its serryas were active in both 

Jebel ech Chaambi and El Kef. The question of who controls the Katibat 

became less murky in January 2015, when it began to openly describe itself 

as a battalion of AQIM.

The first set of incidents that caused Katibat Uqba ibn Nafi to become 

central to relations between the Tunisian government and AST occurred in 

December 2012. Tunisian authorities decided to step up interdiction efforts 

at the border with Algeria after a police raid in Jendouba on 8 December 

resulted in the seizure of guns and explosives and the arrest of two men 

“suspected of membership in a salafist group.”89 Two days later, Tunisian 

National Guardsmen patrolling the border received a call indicating that 

a group of about four militants had entered Tunisian territory and were in 

the forest near the village of Derneya, which is located near the Algerian 

border.90 A small detachment of guardsmen entered the forest, and the militants shot and killed Anis Jelassi, an adjutant.

Jelassi’s death prompted intensified police operations. Tunisian authorities arrested seven salafists suspected in the killing. At a press conference 

announcing the arrests, Katibat Uqba ibn Nafi was mentioned publicly by 

officials for the first time when Interior Minister Ali Laarayedh said that the 

seven arrestees belonged to a group bearing that name.91 He also said 

that the Katibat was part of AQIM emir Abu Musab Abdel Wadoud’s (a.k.a. 

Abdelmalek Droukdel) militant network, an allegation that proved correct 

when the group later began to describe itself that way. Tunisian authorities 

suspected that the Katibat was engaged in smuggling activity between Tunisia and Algeria, and that it used Jebel ech Chaambi to conduct militant 

training.92 The terrain is appropriate for such training activity, as it is a densely wooded national park filled with valleys and caves.

Police operations at the Algerian border continued following these arrests. Sweeps by the Tunisian Army and National Guard discovered caches 

of weapons and ammunition.93 In early May 2013, 16 members of the secu88 Tarek Amara, “Tunisia Hunts al Qaeda-Linked Militants Near Algeria,” Reuters, 7 May 2013, http://

www.reuters.com/article/2013/05/07/us-tunisia-qaeda-idUSBRE9460E920130507. 89 Amira Masrour, “Circumstances of Death Arise after Algerian Border Attack,” Tunisia Live, 11 December 2012. 90 Ibid.

91 “Groupes Armés, Larayedh sonne l’Alerte,” TAP, 21 December 2012.

92 “Possibles Connexions entre Réseaux Terroristes et de Contrebande,” TAP, 6 May 2013; and “Al Qaïda, 

Menace-t-Elle Vraiment la Tunisie?,” Business News, 21 December 2012. 93 “Poursuite d’un Groupe Armé dans une Zone Forestière à la Frontière entre la Tunisie et l’Algérie,” 

Kapitalis, 12 March 2013. 
38 The Crisis of the African State

rity forces were wounded in four separate landmine attacks, and 5 of them 

had limbs amputated as a result.94

On 7 May 2013, following these incidents, Tunisian authorities held a 

major press conference to discuss Katibat Uqba ibn Nafi. Interior ministry 

spokesman Ali Aroui alleged that the Katibat’s two serryas in Jebel ech 

Chaambi and El Kef were part of the al-Qaeda network.95 The government 

also claimed that AST was connected to the Jebel ech Chaambi violence, 

though one of AST’s leaders denied this in an interview with a regional Arabic-language publication, describing the government’s claims as lies designed to squash the salafist movement.96

Violence in Jebel ech Chaambi continued throughout the year, and militant attacks were met with increased policing operations and offensives. The 

surge in violence that had occurred in May 2013 led the government to forbid 

AST’s annual conference in Kairouan, a move that further increased tensions.

Cancelling the Kairouan Conference and Its Aftermath

For the first couple of years of AST’s existence, one of the most visible spectacles to draw its members, supporters, and fellow travellers was an annual 

event hosted in Kairouan. The second annual Kairouan conference, which 

began on 20 May 2012, drew between 3,000 and 10,000 attendees. It also 

drew a star-studded line-up of jihadist speakers. AST’s 2013 conference 

was scheduled to begin on 19 May, and some media outlets estimated the 

number of expected attendees at 40,000.97 On 15 May, only days before 

the conference was to begin, the government banned the meeting. While it 

seems clear that tensions over the violence at Jebel ech Chaambi prompted 

the cancellation, the government claimed that its move was prompted by 

AST’s failure to submit the paperwork necessary to hold the conference.98

The following day, AST spokesman Saif Eddine Erais held a press conference in Tunis, claiming that the group “doesn’t need the government’s 

authorization to preach the word of God.”99 Asserting that the conference 

would be held despite the government’s cancellation, Erais warned against 

94 Lebovich, “Confronting Tunisia’s Jihadists.”

95 “Des Groupes Liés à Al-Qaida Recherchés en Tunisie.”

96 “Les Évènements de Jebel Chaambi: Une Mise en Scène, Selon Ansar Al Charia,” Directinfo, 10 May 

2013.

97 “Tunisia Confirms Ban on Salafist Meeting in Kairouan,” Xinhua, 18 May 2013, http://news.xinhuanet

.com/english/africa/2013-05/18/c_132390376.htm.

98 David Thomson, “Tunisie: Fermeté du Gouvernement vis-à-vis d’Ansar al-Charia,” RFI, 17 May 2013. 99 “Les Salafistes Maintiennent leur Meeting Annuel Malgré l’Interdit,” PressAfrik, 17 May 2013.
Ansar al-Sharia 39

police efforts to stop it. He said, “The government will be responsible for 

every drop of blood that will be poured.”100 Brushing aside these warnings, 

the government affirmed its decision to ban the conference, and Tunisia’s 

interior ministry accused the salafist movement of showing contempt for 

the institutions of the state and inciting violence against them.101 During the 

course of this war of words, Ali Laarayedh—who had by then been elevated 

from interior minister to prime minister—described AST as an “illegal organization that defies and provokes the state’s authority.”102 Though observers 

were confused about what Laarayedh’s description of AST as an “illegal organization” meant—would AST’s dawa activities now be banned?—the government did not prevent AST from operating openly until several months 

had passed, and more blood was shed.

On 19 May, the day the Kairouan conference was scheduled to begin, 

AST advised its international supporters through a Facebook post to cancel 

their trips to Tunisia due to the security situation. Another Facebook post 

that went up the same day called on AST’s supporters to gather in the city 

of Ettadhamen, near the capital of Tunis.103 This change in venue was an 

attempt to circumvent the ban: AST wanted to flout the state’s authority by 

holding the conference, but moving it out of Kairouan—a city that would be 

surrounded by a ring of security.

That evening, AST released an audio message from Abu Iyad on its Facebook page, which the group described as the speech he would have given 

at the conference. In the recording, Abu Iyad assured supporters that AST 

could not be defeated despite the “persecution” the government was inflicting upon them.104 He congratulated his supporters on “proving to the 

entire world that their preaching is invincible before these hordes of enemies, that the ambitions of Ansar al-Sharia will not be hampered.”105

The same evening that Abu Iyad’s statement was posted, clashes erupted between police and salafists in Ettadhamen. Demonstrators threw rocks and Molotov cocktails at officers, burned an armored vehicle, attacked a national guard 

post, and blocked the road between M’nihla and al-Intilaka with burning tires.106

100 Ibid. 101 “Les Salafistes Défient le Pouvoir Islamiste, un Mort dans la Rue,” My TF1 News, 19 May 2013. 102 Ibid. 103 “Heurts entre Salafistes et Policiers à Tunis et Kairouan,” RFI, 19 May 2013. 104 “200 Salafistes Arrêtés après des Heurts Meurtriers avec la Police,” Le Monde, 20 May 2013. 105 “Allocution d’Abou Iyadh au Congrès d’Ansar al-Charia Interdit,” GlobalNet, 19 May 2013. 106 “La Tension s’Apaise à la Cité Ettadhamen,” allAfrica, 20 May 2013.
40 The Crisis of the African State

There were also reports of looting and of burning a Tunisian flag. According 

to official statistics, 1 person was killed and 18 wounded, including 15 police officers, in the first night of clashes.107 Confrontations also occurred in 

Kairouan. Though the clashes were intense, the police soon gained the upper hand in both Kairouan and Ettadhamen by arresting nearly 200, many 

of whom were quickly released.108

Tensions between the government and AST continued to simmer. Violent 

incidents were sparse, and many confrontations during this period were 

precipitated by the government through house raids, arrests, and sweeps 

at Jebel ech Chaambi. For example, on 23 May 2013, authorities arrested 

seven men who were suspects in the 2 May killing of a police officer. The 

murder weapon had been a sword.109

Escalating these raids, on 6 June, Tunisian police raided Abu Iyad’s 

home, but he was not found.110 In an incident that occurred the same day, 

two security officers driving in Jebel ech Chaambi died in a landmine explosion.111 These events illustrate the interplay between violence in Jebel 

ech Chaambi and policing operations in the country’s interior during this 

period; as landmines and other incidents took the lives of security forces at 

the border, pressure built for the government to show resolve in the face of 

the jihadist threat. After the landmine claimed the two officers’ lives, about 

50 Chaambi residents held a public protest, calling for the government to 

take a stronger stance. They said that authorities should set the mountain 

on fire if necessary.112

The military continued to sweep the Chaambi region, raiding the 

homes of suspected militants and arresting those who were thought 

to have a connection to the serryas operating in the area. Algerian security forces cooperated with the Tunisians, setting up 20 new military 

checkpoints at their shared border to inhibit militants’ passage.113 Tuni107 “Le Groupe Salafiste Ansar Charia Annule son Appel à Manifester,” Reporters.dz, 24 May 2013. 108 “200 Salafistes Arrêtés après des Heurts Meurtriers avec la Police.” 109 Tristan Dreisbach, “Seven Suspects Arrested for Murder of Police Officer,” Tunisia Live, 24 May 2013, 

http://www.tunisia-live.net/2013/05/24/seven-suspects-arrested-for-murder-of-police-officer/.

110 Amira Masrour, “Police Raid Home of Fugitive Ansar al-Sharia Founder,” Tunisia Live, 6 June 2013. 111 Amira Masrour, “Two Soldiers Killed by Landmine Explosion Along Algerian Border,” Tunisia Live, 6 

June 2013.

112 Amira Masrour, “Locals Demand Government Burn Chaambi Mountain to Drive Out Militants,” Tunisia 

Live, 6 June 2013. 113 Asma Smadhi, “Tunisia Continues Anti-Militant Operations Near Algerian Border,” Tunisia Live, 10 

June 2013, http://www.tunisia-live.net/2013/06/10/tunisia-continues-anti-militant-operations-near

-algerian-border/.
Ansar al-Sharia 41

sian authorities broadened their sweeps in July to flush out militants.114

At the end of July, two major incidents would substantially reshape the 

relationship between AST and the government. One particularly grisly incident occurred on 29 July in a jihadist ambush in Jebel ech Chaambi that 

killed eight soldiers, five of whom had their throats slit. Though eight soldiers dying in a single day might seem routine for some countries in the 

region, this was the bloodiest day that Tunisian security forces had ever 

experienced. Relations between AST and the government were already 

strained following the 25 July assassination of a secularist politician that 

was linked to AST. The incident at Jebel ech Chaambi pushed the conflict 

irreparably over the edge. 

AST’s Political Assassinations

AST was blamed for two political assassinations that occurred in 2013, both 

of secularist politicians. Chokri Belaïd was assassinated in February 2013, 

while Mohammed Brahmi was gunned down at the end of July.

On 6 February, Chokri Belaïd was gunned down outside his home in Tunis. For more than a year prior to his death, Belaïd was the subject of an 

intensive campaign of surveillance and intimidation. He had many enemies, 

and it was unclear who was watching and stalking him. Indeed, the politician was constantly followed, and received countless threatening phone 

calls and text messages. As the stalking intensified, Belaïd began removing 

his phone battery before travelling.

Immediately after Belaïd’s murder, about a million outraged Tunisians 

took to the streets, protesting in “one of the largest outpourings of grief 

in Tunisian history.”115 The Ennahda Movement, Tunisia’s ruling Islamist faction, was a particular object of popular rage, as protestors torched the political party’s buildings and ransacked its offices in Gafsa; they believed the 

party was too lax when it came to combating religious extremism.116 Some 

protesters called for a “second revolution” against the new Tunisian government, and thereafter members of the Popular Front political coalition, 

of which Belaïd was a part, organized weekly demonstrations in front of 

Ennahda’s offices throughout the country. 

114 “Operations Against AQIM Tuesday,” 20 Minutes (France), 5 July 2013. 115 Yasmine Ryan, “Who Killed Tunisia’s Chokri Belaïd?” Al Jazeera, 12 September 2013, http://www

.aljazeera.com/indepth/%20features/2013/09/201394183325728267.html.

116 “Chokri Belaïd Assassination Prompts Protests,” BBC News, 6 February 2013, http://www.bbc

.com/news/world-21349719. 
42 The Crisis of the African State

The main suspect in Belaïd’s murder was a Tunisian named Kamel Gadhgadhi. Though Gadhgadhi’s background is not well documented, he has 

been portrayed as intelligent and well educated. He apparently knew five 

languages, and studied in the United States.117 A 3 February 2014 raid 

by Tunisian forces on two AST safehouses in the Tunis suburb of Raoued 

caused a 24-hour standoff. The clashes between AST members and the police ultimately resulted in the death of Gadhgadhi and six other militants, as 

well as one police officer.118

While the AST members targeted in the raid were heavily armed, Minister 

of the Interior Lotfi Ben Jeddou said in a 4 February 2014 press conference 

that authorities “wanted to avoid their death, and asked them to surrender, but 

each of them had weapons, grenades, and explosive belts.”119 The militants 

also allegedly possessed 600 kilograms of explosives.120 Though Ben Jeddou portrayed the incident as bringing closure to Belaïd’s death, describing 

the killing of the militants as “the best present that we could give Tunisians,” 

Belaïd’s family was unconvinced. Belaïd’s brother told the media, “We want 

to know the whole truth. Gadhgadhi was not alone. There are other parties 

implicated and we hope they will be captured so that the truth is revealed.”121

The other major assassination that AST was blamed for in 2013 occurred 

six months after Belaïd’s murder, on July 25, when secularist politician Mohamed Brahmi was gunned down in Tunis as he sat in a car outside his 

home. The gunmen, who reportedly fired 11 shots into the vehicle, then 

fled on a motorbike. The assassination spun Tunisia into new chaos; protests erupted across the country, as angry crowds again called for the Ennahda government’s resignation.

The day following Brahmi’s assassination, interior minister Jeddou held 

a press conference in which he claimed that forensic ballistics determined 

that Belaïd and Brahmi were killed by the same gun—which was subsequent117 David Ottaway, Violence Unsettles Tunisia’s Democratic Transition (Washington, DC: The Wilson Center, 2013), 2; and “Qui est Kamel Gadhgadhi?,” DirectInfo, 5 February 2013. 118 “Police Raid in Raoued—Interior Ministry Discloses Identity of Terrorists Killed,” allAfrica, 5 February 

2014, http://allafrica.com/stories/201402051196.html. 

119 Agence France-Presse, “En Tunisie, l’Assassin Présumé de l’Opposant Chokri Belaïd Tué,” Le Monde, 

4 February 2014. 

120 “Anti-Terrorist Operation in Raoued: Ben Jeddou Announces Gadhgadhi’s Death,” Tunis Afrique Presse, 

4 February 2014. 

121 “Belaïd Family to Tunisia Interior Ministry: You Killed Gadhgadhi, But Where Is Truth?,” Middle East 

Online, 5 February 2014, http://www.middle-east-online.com/english/?id=64067.
Ansar al-Sharia 43

ly confiscated in a raid in Tunis’s Wardieh neighborhood.122 Prime Minister 

Laarayedh described the gun as “proof that the Ansar group is responsible” 

for the two assassinations.123

Ennahda ultimately responded by designating AST a terrorist organisation and banning it on 27 August, stating that the jihadist group was responsible for both assassinations as well as the Jebel ech Chaambi attacks. 

This designation would trigger the next phase in AST’s evolution, that of the 

state’s crackdown against the organization.

The Government Crackdown on AST

The crackdown phase of AST’s lifecycle began when Ennahda designated 

it a terrorist organization and banned it. These restrictions largely went well 

for the government in the early stages, significantly reducing AST’s activities. AST continued to undertake dawa, but youth leader Youssef Mazouz 

said the group now carried out “less than half the work it used to before 

August when it could plan events openly and post details on Facebook.”124

AST’s Targeting of Tourists

As the state’s efforts escalated, so did those of Tunisian salafists, but their 

efforts were initially unsuccessful. One early salafi jihadist target in the 

crackdown phase was tourism, an important part of Tunisia’s economy that 

contributes to 7 percent of the country’s gross domestic product (GDP) and 

15 percent of its employment.125

On the morning of 30 October 2013, just before 10:00 a.m., a man carrying 

a bulky suitcase tried to enter Sousse’s four-star Riadh Palms Hotel, a popular 

resort for European tourists visiting the beachside city. Security guards questioned him as he tried to make his way in, and quickly decided they did not 

want to let him enter. The man with the suitcase rushed out toward the beach 

with security giving chase. Suddenly a loud explosion disrupted the morning’s tranquillity. Wrecked umbrellas, lounge chairs, and the suicide bomber’s 

122 Mohammad Yassin al-Jalassi, “Tunisia Minister: Ansar al-Sharia Linked to Assassinations,” Al-Monitor,

29 August 2013, http://www.al-monitor.com/pulse/tr/security/2013/08/ansar-al-sharia-connected-to

-assassinations.html#.

123 “Ansar al-Sharia Blamed for Tunisia Killings,” Al Jazeera, 27 August 2013, http://www.aljazeera.com

/news/africa/2013/08/2013827131811488516.html.

124 “Dispatch from Tunisia: The Salafist Struggle,” Economist, 1 January 2014, http://www.economist

.com/blogs/pomegranate/2014/01/dispatch-tunisia.

125 Charles Prioux, “Le Nouveau Terrorisme Tunisien: De Belles Ambitions?,” Intelligence Strategique, 3 

October 2012. 
44 The Crisis of the African State

remains littered the beach. Explosives experts later discovered that the bomb 

had been detonated from a distance with a cell phone, a technique that terrorist groups sometimes employ when the attacker is a new member.126

Fifteen miles south, on the edge of the Gulf of Hammamet peninsula, 

sits the city of Monastir. Almost simultaneous with the Sousse bombing, 

authorities arrested an 18-year-old named Aymen Sâadi Berchid outside 

the mausoleum of Habib Bourguiba, the country’s secular-minded first 

president. Though Bourguiba is respected by most Tunisians for his role in 

bringing Tunisia its independence, these secular tendencies make him the 

bête noire (literally “black beast”) of religious conservatives. The intentions 

of Berchid were clear enough from the fact that his backpack was jammed 

full of explosives. He tossed a firecracker to distract security officers, but 

the diversion failed and authorities restrained him. Tunisia’s Ministry of the 

Interior stated that both of the 30 October attackers belonged to AST.127

As with past security incidents, Tunisian police sprang into action immediately following the attacks. The interior ministry announced the arrest of 

five individuals “with direct links to the assailants” in the cities of Sousse 

and Monastir.128 They also found a large quantity of explosives in one of the 

houses they searched in Monastir.129 The individuals arrested in the sweep 

allegedly confessed to a plot to bomb the headquarters of the National 

Union of Tunisian Security Forces Syndicates, police posts, and four supermarkets that sold alcohol.130 Those arrested were reportedly in contact with 

Abu Iyad by Skype two days before the attacks.131

December 2013 Arrests 

On 9 December 2013, Tunisian authorities thwarted another planned attack 

that similarly targeted tourists when they arrested six members of a cell.132

Though their intended target was unclear, reports state that the most serious threat was against the island of Djerba off the coast of Tunisia in the 

126 “Selon les Premiers Éléments de l’Enquête, la Bombe Aurait été Déclenchée à Distance,” Directinfo, 

1 November 2013.

127 Noureddine Baltayeb, “Ansar al-Sharia Inaugurates Era of Suicide Bombers,” Al Akhbar, 1 November 

2013. 

128 Hamida Ben Salah, “Tunisia Arrests 5 Suspects After Failed Suicide Attacks,” Agence France-Presse, 

30 October 2013. 

129 “Attentats en Tunisie: Cinq Suspects Arrêtés, les Salafistes Accusés,” Le Monde, 30 October 2013. 130 “Tunisie: Les Terroristes Arrêtés après l’Attentat de Sousse Planifiaient des Attentats dans 4 Supermarchés,” Kapitalis, 1 November 2013. 131 Ibid. 132 Monia Ghanmi, “Tunisia Thwarts New Suicide Bombing,” allAfrica, 10 December 2013.
Ansar al-Sharia 45

Gulf of Gabes. Interior ministry spokesman Mohamed Ali Aroui suggested 

that the attack may have been intended for New Year’s Eve celebrations, 

possibly striking hotels or clubs.

AST’s Rebound, February 2014–Present 

AST has experienced a rebound since February 2014. Since then, the vast 

majority of militant attacks and clashes with Tunisian security forces have 

been concentrated in the western governorates of Kef and Kasserine, both of 

which border Algeria. As of this writing, there have been 36 kinetic incidents 

involving Islamist militants since 16 February 2014.133 Of them, 19 took place 

in Kasserine, while another 6 occurred in Kef. Katibat Uqba ibn Nafi is active in 

both governorates, and Tunisian security forces have intensified operations 

in these areas, resulting in an increased number of clashes with militants. 

As Tunisian forces have stepped up security operations in Jebel ech 

Chaambi, they have continued to suffer from landmine attacks. Since February 2014, three Tunisian soldiers have been killed and eight have been 

wounded in three landmine attacks in Chaambi.134 The number of landmine attacks in Chaambi since February 2014 has declined in comparison 

to landmine attacks and casualties from February 2013 to January 2014, 

when 5 Tunisian security forces were killed, and between 17 and 30 security 

forces were wounded in six attacks.

Although landmine attacks have declined, militants operating in the 

Chaambi region have become increasingly brazen in their confrontations 

with Tunisian security forces. Militants have engaged in firefights with Tunisian security forces on four separate occasions since April 2014, while just 

one similar incident had taken place the previous year. On 16 July 2014, 

the deadliest attack on Tunisian security forces since the fall of the Ben Ali 

regime occurred as 40–60 militants, armed with rocket-propelled grenades 

and rifles, killed 14 soldiers and wounded 20 others in simultaneous attacks 

on two military posts in Jebel ech Chaambi, which came just as the soldiers 

were holding their Iftar (evening) meal to break the day’s Ramadan fast.135 A 

133 This number does not include the March 2015 attack at Tunis’s Bardo Museum, which occurred following the statistical analysis described in this section.

134 Statistics on casualty counts for one landmine attack vary. As such, the total number of deaths from 

landmines ranges from two to three, while the total number of casualties ranges from seven to eight.

135 See Monia Ghanmi, “Jebel Chaambi Attacks Kill 14 Soldiers,” allAfrica, 18 July 2014, http://allafrica

.com/stories/201407200024.html. Note that the attack “involved some 40 to 60 terrorists.” Also see 

“Gunmen Kill Tunisian Soldiers Near Algeria,” Al Jazeera, 17 July 2014, http://www.aljazeera.com/news

/middleeast/2014/07/gunmen-kill-tunisian-soldiers-near-algeria-20147170226855942.html.
46 The Crisis of the African State

year earlier, militants had conducted a similar ambush against Tunisian military forces in Chaambi during the month of Ramadan, suggesting that militants timed their attacks for a period when military forces may have been 

less alert. Katibat Uqba ibn Nafi claimed responsibility for the July 2014 

attack.136 A month later, on 20 August 2014, militants again engaged in a 

firefight with Tunisian soldiers, with one soldier sustaining minor injuries.137

Militants have also been active in other areas in Kasserine, including Jebel Salloum and Jebel Semama. On 11 June, an IED on a footpath in Jebel 

Salloum wounded two civilians, although it is likely that the bomb was intended for Tunisian security forces conducting operations in the area.138 On 

23 June 2014, Tunisian security forces exchanged fire with militants who 

were reportedly trying to replenish their supply of food.139 On 29 July, militants based in Jebel Semama fired on a Tunisian military helicopter flying 

over the mountain pass, wounding three soldiers.140 Less than a week later, 

on 4 August, a Tunisian soldier was wounded in a firefight with militants on 

Jebel Semama.141 Then, on 1 December, one soldier was killed and another wounded in a landmine explosion during security operations in Jebel 

Semama.142

A similar pattern of kinetic incidents occurred in the mountainous regions of Kef, where Tunisian security forces have intensified counterinsurgency operations. On 1 July 2014, a roadside bomb wounded six members 

of the Tunisian security forces involved in clearing operations.143 The next 

day, an improvised explosive device (IED) killed four Tunisian soldiers in 

Kef.144 Both landmine attacks occurred near Jebel Ouergha, a known militant stronghold that remains a focal point of clearing operations. On 26 

136 “Katibat Uqba Ibn Nafaa Recruitment Efforts Increase Risk of Terrorist Attacks in Urban Centres in 

Post-Election Tunisia,” IHS Jane’s Intelligence Weekly, 20 November 2014, http://www.janes.com

/article/46089/katibat-uqba-ibn-nafaa-recruitment-efforts-increase-risk-of-terrorist-attacks-in

-urban-centres-in-post-election-tunisia.

137 “Soldier Slightly Injured as Army Tracks Down Terrorists in Mount Chaambi (Defense),” Agence Tunis 

Afrique Presse, 20 August 2014. 138 “Roadside Bomb Explodes Near Jbel Salloum,” Agence Tunis Afrique Presse, 11 June 2014. 139 “Security Units, Terrorist Gunmen Trade Fire Near Jebel Salloum,” Agence Tunis Afrique Presse, 23 June 2014. 140 “Tunisia Troops Wounded in Clash with Militants,” Agence France-Presse, 29 July 2014. 141 “Warrant Officer Wounded in Clashes between Army and Terrorist Group,” Agence Tunis Afrique 

Presse, 4 August 2014. 142 “One Tunisian Soldier Killed in Landmine Explosion near Algerian Borders,” Xinhua, 1 December 

2014, http://news.xinhuanet.com/english/africa/2014-12/02/c_133826147.htm.

143 “Bomb Blast Wounds 6 Tunisian Security Force Members,” Agence France-Presse, 1 July 2014. 144 “Four Soldiers Killed as Mine Explodes on Mount Ouergha,” allAfrica, 2 July 2014, http://allafrica

.com/stories/201407021586.html.
Ansar al-Sharia 47

July, less than two weeks after the devastating attack on security forces in 

Jebel ech Chaambi, militants killed two Tunisian soldiers and wounded four 

others in an attack on a military outpost in a mountainous area close to Sakiet Sidi Youusef, the closest town to Jebel Ouergha.145 On 23 October, five 

more Tunisian soldiers conducting clearing operations were wounded in a 

landmine explosion near Sakiet Sidi Youusef.

Militants have also conducted operations against security forces in urban 

centers in both Kef and Kasserine. On the night of 2 August 2014, militants 

launched a mass attack against a military barracks in the town of Sbeitla in 

Kasserine, killing a soldier and wounding a civilian in the operation.146 The 

same night, security forces repelled an attack on a national guard outpost 

in the town of Hidra in Kasserine, which is located on the border with Algeria.147 On 30 August, militants raided the Sbeitla home of a Tunisian national 

guardsman, who managed to fend off the assailants. That same day—indicating the escalating pace of attacks—militants launched an assault against 

a police patrol stationed at the entrance to Kasserine. The attackers fled 

when security forces returned fire.148

Starting in mid-September 2014, militants launched a series of increasingly brazen attacks against security forces in Kasserine and Kef. On 16 

September, a group of militants engaged in clashes with Tunisian security 

forces, resulting in the death of two militants.149 On 5 November, two militants attacked a group of soldiers traveling in a bus along the road from 

Kef to Jendouba, killing 5 soldiers and wounding 10 others.150 The attack 

occurred close to the Algerian border, raising questions as to whether the 

militants were using Algerian territory as a base from which to launch their 

assaults. Subsequently, on 1 December, militants kidnapped a police officer and his brother as they were driving in the Tourief district near the city 

of Kef. According to news reports, the militants initially intended to rob the 

145 Tarek Amara, “Militants Kill Two Tunisian Soldiers near Algerian Border: Army,” Reuters, 26 July 2014, 

http://www.reuters.com/article/2014/07/26/us-tunisia-security-militants-idUSKBN0FV0ST20140726.

146 “Soldier Killed in Terrorist Attack Against Sbeitla Barracks,” allAfrica, 3 August 2014, http://allafrica

.com/stories/201408041696.html.

147 “National Guards Repel Attack on Hydra Outpost,” Agence Tunis Afrique Presse, 3 August 2014. 148 “Police Patrol, Terrorists Trade Fire at Main Entrance of Kasserine,” allAfrica, 1 September 2014, http://

allafrica.com/stories/201409020311.html.

149 Tarek Amara, “Tunisian Forces and Militants Clash Near Border, Two Killed,” Reuters, 17 September 

2014, http://www.reuters.com/article/2014/09/17/us-tunisia-security-idUSKBN0HC0W720140917. 

150 Louis Bonhoure, “5 killed, 10 Injured in El Kef Shootings,” Tunisia Live, 6 November 2014, http://

www.tunisia-live.net/2014/11/06/update-on-bus-attack-in-kef/.
48 The Crisis of the African State

two individuals, but they instead beheaded the police officer when they 

learned he was a member of Tunisian security forces.151 In a similarly chilling attack on 4 January 2015, militants kidnapped and slit the throat of an 

off-duty police officer traveling in a rural area in the northeastern governorate of Zaghouan.152

Jendouba governorate has also witnessed an upsurge in militant activity. While there were no militant attacks in the area prior to February 2014, 

four attacks took place in the period from February to August 2014. Jendouba’s proximity to the Algerian border and to militant strongholds in the 

mountains of Kef and Kasserine make it a favorable area of operations for 

militants. On 16 February 2014, a group of militants disguised as police 

opened fire on a car driving near Jendouba, killing a prison official and a civilian. The group then attacked a Tunisian National Guard unit sent to investigate the attack, killing two members of the guard unit and wounding two 

others.153 In the aftermath of the attack, more than a thousand Jendouba 

residents took to the streets to condemn the attack and show their support 

for the security forces. 

On 17 March 2014, Tunisian forces raided a militant safehouse in northwest Jendouba, killing three militants in the clashes that ensued.154 On 13 

June, militants engaged in a firefight with Tunisian security forces in Jendouba, resulting in the deaths of two militants. Security forces claimed to 

have recovered explosives and bomb-making equipment in the March and 

June operations, suggesting that the two disrupted cells may have been 

planning terrorist attacks.

Police crackdowns on jihadist activity elsewhere in Tunisia at times 

sparked a violent backlash. In early April 2014, Tunisian forces raided a 

mosque in the town of Rouhia in Siliana governorate and arrested approximately 16 individuals suspected of militant activities, including numerous 

people alleged to have fought with jihadist groups in Syria. The next day, 

a throng of protesters, whom Tunisian security officials claimed were asso151 “Islamist Militants Behead Tunisian Policeman Near Algerian Border,” Al-Akhbar, 1 December 2014, 

http://english.al-akhbar.com/node/22700.

152 Tarek Amara, “Suspected Militants Stab Tunisian Policeman to Death,” Reuters, 4 January 2015, http://

www.reuters.com/article/2015/01/04/us-tunisia-security-idUSKBN0KD0AC20150104.

153 “Tunisians Protest Against Attack on Police,” Al Jazeera, 18 February 2014, http://www.aljazeera.com

/news/middleeast/2014/02/tunisians-protest-against-attack-police-2014217224610567113.html.

154 Tarek Amara, “Tunisia Police Kill Three Militants in Raid Near Algeria Border,” Reuters, 17 March 2014, 

http://www.reuters.com/article/2014/03/17/us-tunisia-militants-idUSBREA2G0XZ20140317.
Ansar al-Sharia 49

ciated with AST, attacked a police station in Rouhia, throwing stones and 

Molotov cocktails and wounding several police officers.155

In addition to their ongoing campaign against Tunisian security forces, 

militants continue to target political figures as a means of disrupting the 

democratic process. On 27 May 2014, gunmen attacked the home of Minister of the Interior Lotfi Ben Jeddouh in Kasserine, killing four police officers 

in a 45-minute firefight but missing Ben Jeddouh, who was not home.156 In 

June 2014, AQIM claimed responsibility for the attack.

The assassination attempt against Ben Jeddouh was followed by another 

attack in Kasserine in September 2014, this time targeting Mohamed Ali 

Nasri, a member of Tunisia’s secular Nidaa Tounes party. On 1 September, 

at least five masked gunmen stormed Nasri’s home, although Nasri managed to evade the attackers by jumping onto the roof of his house and then 

hiding in the home of a neighbor.157 On 14 October, Tunisian authorities 

arrested a group of militants with suspected links to AST whom officials believed were planning to assassinate Ahmed Nejib Chebbi, a leader of Tunisia’s liberal republican party.158 This string of assassination attempts against 

political figures, though they were unsuccessful, underscores the militants’ 

continued efforts to target symbols of Tunisia’s democratic transition and 

the ease with which they can hit at these figures’ homes.

The elections held in Tunisia in late 2014 offered militants additional opportunities to undermine the democratic process. As the 26 October parliamentary election neared, militants accelerated their operational tempo in 

the hopes of disrupting voting. On 23 October, militants launched a series 

of attacks across the country that exacerbated security concerns about the 

elections. Early in the morning of 23 October, two militants, whom Tunisian authorities accused of plotting a bomb attack, shot and killed a night 

watchman in the city of Kebili before being arrested.159 The two detained 

155 Bilel Sfaxi, “Six Security Officers Injured in Rouhia Clashes,” Tunisia Live, 10 April 2014, http://www

.tunisia-live.net/2014/04/10/six-security-officers-injured-in-rouhia-clashes/.

156 “Four Policemen Killed in Attack on Tunisian Minister’s Home,” BBC News, 28 May 2014, http://www

.bbc.com/news/world-africa-27599299.

157 Dania Akkad, “Tunisian Politician Survives Assassination Attempt Near Troubled Mountain Region,” 

Middle East Eye, 2 September 2014, http://www.middleeasteye.net/news/tunisian-politician-survives

-assassination-attempt-near-troubled-mountain-region-2073216935.

158 Tarek Amara, “Tunisia Says It Thwarted Jihadist Attack before Elections,” Reuters, 14 October 2014, 

http://www.reuters.com/article/2014/10/14/us-tunisia-islamists-idUSKCN0I324020141014.

159 “Two Terrorists Captured in Kebili–Interior Ministry,” allAfrica, 23 October 2014, http://allafrica.com

/stories/201410231599.html.
50 The Crisis of the African State

militants, who were identified by Tunisian officials as AST members, provided information about the existence of a terrorist cell operating out of a 

home in the town of Oued Ellil in Manouba governorate.160 Security forces 

immediately acted on this intelligence and attempted to disrupt the Oued 

Ellil militants, whom they feared were planning imminent attacks. However, 

as security forces moved against the militants, a firefight broke out as those 

inside the besieged house opened fire, resulting in the death of a member of the Tunisian National Guard.161 In the ensuing hours, Tunisian Special 

Forces established a cordon around the house, while Tunisian security officials attempted to negotiate with the militants. However, after a 28-hour 

standoff, Tunisian Special Forces stormed the house, killing six militants, including five women, and wounding two militants and two children who had 

also been in the house.

Investigations after the raid revealed the Oeld Elil cell’s capabilities and 

international connections. According to Tunisian officials, the women in the 

house, who allegedly opened fire on Tunisian Special Forces, were planning 

to travel to Syria to join anti-Assad rebels. The male militants had reportedly 

attempted to recruit individuals in the northern Tunisian town of Nabeul to 

fight in Syria as well. Moreover, Tunisian officials alleged that the cell was 

planning to conduct attacks in the towns of Kebili and Tozeur.162

Tunisian jihadists again attempted to disrupt the democratic process on 

21 December, the date of the presidential runoff, when gunmen opened 

fire on a polling station in the town of Haffouz in Kairouan governorate 

hours before the station was scheduled to open for voters. In the ensuing 

firefight, Tunisian security forces killed a militant and arrested three others, 

while one soldier was wounded.163

Conclusion

This chapter primarily focused on AST, which was the first publicly identifiable jihadist organization to crop up in Tunisia following Ben Ali’s fall. In 

its early life, a phase lasting until December 2012, AST focused on dawa. 

160 “Public Prosecutor of Kebili Refers Case of Two Terrorists to Tunis Court (Sliti),” Agence Tunis Afrique 

Presse, 23 October 2014. 161 “Tunisia Forces Storm ‘Militant Hideout’ Killing Six,” BBC News, 24 October 2014, http://www.bbc

.com/news/world-africa-29753423.

162 Kaouther Larbi, “Tunisia Police Kill 6 ‘Militants’ Ahead of Key Polls,” Agence France-Presse, 24 October 

2014.

163 “Tunisia Terrorists Attack Poll Site,” Magharebia, 22 December 2014.
Ansar al-Sharia 51

While it engaged in hisba violence, AST tried (ultimately unsuccessfully) to 

avoid a state crackdown. That crackdown was caused by a second distinct 

phase for AST, that of the group’s escalation: through the assassination of 

two secularist politicians and through Katibat Uqba ibn Nafi’s rise in western Tunisia. 

AST’s escalation in turn prompted the third phase of its lifecycle, that of 

the state crackdown, which was followed by the rebound of AST and also 

Tunisian militancy more broadly. Thereafter, subsequent developments 

have pushed AST to the background as other jihadist groups have taken 

the fore in the fight against the Tunisian state.

The most shocking attacks are the most recent. Following the gruesome 

March 2015 attack on Tunis’s Bardo museum, the country received another shock on 26 June 2015, when a gunman massacred 38 tourists on the 

beach at the popular destination Port el Kantaoui. Among other things, the 

Sousse massacre, which was perpetrated by a jihadist affiliated with the Islamic State, may signal escalating competition in Tunisia between the Islamic State and al-Qaeda.

One jihadist group that has become more prominent since the state 

crackdown is Katibat Uqba ibn Nafi. The prevalence of AST members in Katibat Uqba ibn Nafi has long been noted, but it seems that the two are not 

actually distinct, but rather different facets of the same organization. It seems 

that AST was the political front group; it did not participate in elections or 

the political process, but took advantage of its professed nonviolent approach to openly engage in dawa. Meanwhile, it appears that Katibat Uqba 

ibn Nafi was the organization’s military wing. This relationship between AST 

and Katibat Uqba ibn Nafi has not been announced, but is suggested by 

four factors: both groups’ geographic focus on Tunisia, the subordinate relationship both have with AQIM, the prevalence of AST members in Katibat 

Uqba ibn Nafi, and the division of the groups’ responsibility into separate 

functions (AST handles dawa and Katibat Uqba ibn Nafi handles military 

efforts). If this is indeed their relationship, it helps explain AST’s marked decline in visibility since the Tunisian state banned it and cracked down. If 

AST’s main function was serving as a militant organization’s political front 

group, the fact that space no longer exists for the group to function openly 

calls its purpose into question. But as the organization’s military arm, Katibat Uqba ibn Nafi’s purpose remains clear, and it has continued to claim 

responsibility for attacks.
52 The Crisis of the African State

Meanwhile, the Islamic State’s potential for growth in Tunisia has long 

been clear due to the large number of Tunisians who fought under its banner in the Syria-Iraq theater. However, in 2015, the group’s claims of responsibility for the Bardo museum attack, which may have been a false claim on 

its part, and Sousse beach massacre have propelled the group further into 

the spotlight in the country. The Islamic State claimed a number of attacks 

after Bardo, culminating in the extraordinarily bloody shooting spree on the 

beach at Sousse. The Islamic State’s rising profile in Tunisia has the potential 

to rally the foot soldiers loyal to that organization, and the continuing competition between the Islamic State and al-Qaeda in that country should be 

carefully watched.

Overall, Tunisia faces serious challenges, given the collapse of its tourism 

sector following the Sousse attack. Jihadists recognize the tourist industry’s 

centrality to the country’s economy, as well as its vulnerability. While AST 

has declined in the wake of the state’s crackdown, this does not appear to 

be a counterterrorism success so much as the political front group’s decline 

once it could no longer operate openly. Groups like Katibat Uqba ibn Nafi 

and the Islamic State will continue to target Tunisia, including tourist destinations, with the aim of crippling the country’s economy. Seeing no alternative, the Tunisian government is likely to continue its crackdown. But since 

jihadist networks have spread beyond Tunisia’s borders, the government’s 

efforts can at best contain but not solve the problem.
Chapter Two

Al-Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb

Libya, Mali, and the Next Jihadist War

by Anthony N. Celso*

With its 11 September 2012 attack against the U.S. embassy in Benghazi 

and its brief Northern Mali “safe haven,” al-Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb 

(AQIM) and its allies have launched a new regional jihadist war. AQIM’s rapid ascent since January 2012 is surprising. The organization was confined 

largely to remote Sahelian areas noted for kidnapping, sporadic attacks on 

security services, and smuggling operations. Recent events, however, have 

coalesced to reenergize the group.

Qaddafi’s overthrow by NATO-assisted rebels in 2011 forced his heavily armed African mercenaries to return to their Malian homeland. Many of 

these fighters were Tuaregs and their presence fueled secessionist pressures that had threatened Mali for years. The flow of Qaddafi-era arms to 

rebel groups and their AQIM Islamist allies, moreover, contributed to the 

Tuareg rebellion that, by March 2012, had formed an irredentist homeland 

in north Mali. 

The Tuareg-Islamist alliance did not last. Soon, international Islamists and 

Tuareg guerrillas were fighting for control over the area. Jihadist forces displaced the Tuareg movement for the National Movement for the Liberation 

of Azawad (MNLA) from the north’s main population centers. AQIM and 

aligned groups divided north Mali into respective fiefdoms where they imposed a draconian version of sharia law. Alcohol was prohibited, adulterers 

were stoned, thieves’ limbs were amputated, and Sufi religious shrines and 

burial sites were desecrated. 

Not since the Taliban had the world seen such a radical fundamentalist 

regime. AQIM soon erected terror camps, and jihadist recruits in the areas 

they governed increased. By autumn 2012, Islamist forces threatened to 

* Anthony N. Celso is an associate professor of security studies at Angelo State University in San Angelo, 

Texas, and is considered an expert on Islamic terrorism and Middle East politics.

53
54 The Crisis of the African State

move against Mali’s capital, Bamako. Supporting Islamist ambition was a 

weak Malian military, which caused a political vacuum inside already tense 

army-state relations. Frustrated by Bamako’s meager efforts to combat the 

Tuareg insurgency, army officers overthrew their civilian overseers in March 

2012, only to be forced to relinquish authority by Western leaders. Continued conflict between the army and the government created a dangerous 

power void. By January 2013, AQIM and its allies moved into central Mali 

and could have marched on Bamako. 

Fearing for the safety of thousands of its citizens, France intervened 

militarily. Fighting continued in the impoverished country as the French secured control over the cities of Gao, Kindal, and Timbuktu and awaited the 

development of a pan-African force to consolidate Bamako’s control over 

north Mali.

The Benghazi attack, Islamist combat with French forces in Mali, and 

AQIM’s kidnapping of Westerners raise a variety of security concerns. Libya’s failed state and the presence of AQIM militias, moreover, threaten to 

extend the zone of Islamist anarchy. Will the Maghreb-Sahel region be the 

next battleground in the Global War on Terrorism (GWOT)? This question will 

be addressed by making a historical analysis of the region’s Islamist movement. Past fears of jihadist resurgence have floundered on the shoals of 

the movement’s internal divisions, use of nihilistic violence, and ideological 

extremism. These tendencies are likely to impede AQIM’s future capability. 

Buttressed by French military forces and their bases in Mali, Niger, Chad, 

and Côte d’Ivoire, increased international and regional counterterror measures should, moreover, be sufficient to contain the Islamist threat.1

This chapter examines the Maghreb jihadist movement from 1980s Afghanistan to the current period in four sections that focus on: the role of 

North African fighters in the global jihadist movement; the Algerian Civil 

War’s impact on Islamist radicalization and fragmentation; regional Islamist 

incorporation into al-Qaeda; and finally, AQIM’s development of Sahelian 

terror operations and sanctuary in the post-Qaddafi era.

Jihadist Struggles in the Maghreb

Islamic radicalism has historical roots in the Maghreb. Many Algerian and 

Libyan Islamists were involved in Muslim “liberation” wars in Afghanistan, Bos1 Andrew McGregor, “Operation Barkhane: France’s New Military Approach to Counter-Terrorism in Africa,” Terrorism Monitor 12, no. 15 (July 2014): 3–4.
Al-Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb 55

nia, Kashmir, and Iraq.2

 They also contributed to Islamist rebellions at home. 

Jihadism is especially strong in rural communities where isolation and poverty allows jihadists to recruit prospective martyrs. Studies of the 11 March 

2004 Madrid train attacks have shown the Moroccan rural town of Tetuan to 

be a source of radical jihadism whose violence has become transnational.3

Maghreb jihadists have waged battles against the “near enemy” (Muslim apostate governments) and the “far enemy” (Western powers); the 

former, designed to liberate Dar al-Islam (House of Islam) of impious rulers and the latter, seeking to violently confront non-Muslim powers in Dar 

al-Harb (House of War).4 Frequently, these two struggles have converged. 

This merger of national and international jihadism occurred in the 1990s 

when Algerian fighters returned home after the Afghan jihad. These returning jhadists created the Armed Islamic Group (GIA) in 1993 in response to 

the army’s refusal to respect the 1991 election victory of the Islamic Salvation Front (FIS) and the military’s 1992 seizure of power. The military coup 

sparked a civil war and inspired a brutal jihadist insurgency.5

Islamists then mounted a vigorous insurgent and terror campaign against 

Algiers. The GIA’s indiscriminate killing of civilians, suicide bombings, ritualistic beheadings, and destructive rage would serve as the precursor to the 

grotesque tactics of al-Qaeda’s recently expelled Iraq affiliate known today 

as the Islamic State (IS). 

GIA terrorism spread beyond Algeria’s national borders, striking France 

in the1990s. The 1994 Air France highjacking that ended when French commandos stormed the plane in Marseilles and the 1995 Paris Metro bombings 

that killed six people were GIA retaliation for French support of the Algerian government’s repression of the Islamist movement. These attacks were 

backed by radical elements in France’s Algerian émigré community.6 Extremist Algerian, Libyan, and Moroccan immigrant communities in Europe 

have contributed money and recruits for a variety of jihadists during the last 

three decades.

2 Michael P. Noonan, ed., The Foreign Fighter Problem: Recent Trends and Case Studies: Selected Essays

(Philadelphia, PA: Foreign Policy Research Institute, 2011).

3 Fernando Reinares, “The Madrid Bombings and Global Jihadism,” Survival 52, no. 2 (2010): 83–104. 4 Walid Phares, The War of Ideas: Jihadism against Democracy (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2008). 5 Luis Martinez, The Algerian Civil War, 1990–1998, trans. Jonathan Derrick (New York: Columbia University Press, 2000); and Hugh Roberts, The Battlefield: Algeria, 1988–2002: Studies in a Broken Polity (New 

York: Verso Books, 2003).

6 Lorenzo Vidino, Al Qaeda in Europe: The New Battleground of International Jihad (New York: Prometheus Books, 2005).
56 The Crisis of the African State

The Algerian jihadist movement exemplifies the symbiotic relationship 

between international and national jihadist movements. Its organization 

and tactics have been shaped by national and international influences. We 

turn now to the impact of those internal and external influences. 

Algerian Islamism and the 1990s Civil War

Algerians responded to calls for jihad against the Soviet “infidel” in Afghanistan and performed well on the battleground.7 Their return home came after a political liberalization initiative by the National Liberation Front’s (FLN) 

one-party state and the emergence of the Islamic Salvation Front (FIS). Denied political opportunity until the late 1980s, the FIS built a civil society of 

schools, cultural centers, and medical clinics. This civil infrastructure eventually developed into a mass political movement.

The FIS swept municipal elections in 1989 and mounted a challenge to 

the one-party state. The FIS won the 1991 legislative elections, but its ascent 

to power would be curtailed by the government’s abrogation of the election results. Algiers’ violent crackdown against the FIS spawned an armed 

rebellion in which Algerian veterans of the Afghan jihad dominated insurgent groups. With fanatical determination, the GIA gained infamy for the 

scope and severity of their terrorist assaults. Officials estimate that the civil 

war produced more than 200,000 deaths. Driven by takfir doctrine8 that saw 

opponents (both civilian and military) as “apostates,” GIA violence caused 

the slaughter of entire communities. The group’s extreme violence divided the Islamist “liberation” movement. Many Islamists, including al-Qaeda, 

eventually repudiated GIA’s tactics. 

FIS negotiated with the government in 1998 and disarmed in return for 

amnesty for its members. The reincorporation of FIS affiliates into the political mainstream of Algerian society (elections were held in the late 1990s) 

made it a target of GIA violence. By the late 1990s, Algerian Islamists were 

frustrated in their campaign to overthrow the government. The regime’s 

counterterror policy and divide-and-conquer strategy had limited and 

weakened the insurgency. As a result, GIA lost massive public support because of its tendency for violence.

Among Islamist guerrillas, the division accelerated. Created in 1998, the 

7 Martinez, The Algerian Civil War, 1990–1998. 8 Takfir is the act of excommunicating or declaring a Muslim a nonbeliever, a sentence punishable by 

death.
Al-Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb 57

Salafist Group for Preaching and Combat (GSPC) staked a middle ground 

between the FIS and the GIA, proselytizing violent action but only against 

government forces. The GSPC also favored jihad against the “far enemy.”9

As a result, the group’s internationalist orientation captured the attention of 

the al-Qaeda terror network.

The Algerian Islamist movement’s mutation had profound ramifications. 

Moroccan, Tunisian, and Mauritanian Islamists formed their own GIA and 

GSPC groups.10 These organizations often intermingled with criminal networks and charities operating across North Africa and European diaspora 

communities. Algerian and Moroccan mafias and charities have financed 

many Islamist terror organizations whose operations span the Mediterranean. 

Despite ample financing, Maghreb Islamists in the 1990s were unable 

to overthrow the Algerian and Libyan regimes. GIA violence in Algeria 

strengthened the government’s policy of dividing Islamist ranks, and the 

Moroccan Islamist movement was weakened by the government’s repressive campaign. The Islamist revolt against Qaddafi’s regime in Libya was 

similarly defeated. By the late 1990s, the Islamist jihadist groups were driven to the remote Sahel-Saharan desert regions.

The failure of regional jihadists to overthrow “apostate” regimes produced 

an existential crisis among Maghreb radicals who sought the commissioning 

of a new jihadist struggle. As Thomas Hegghammer, director of terrorism 

research at the Norwegian Defence Research Establishment, notes that jihadist frustration typically leads divergent Islamist groups to merge and 

coalesce against common enemies.11

The 9/11 terror attacks and the Afghan and Iraq wars provided further 

stimulus to the international jihadist cause.12 The collapse of al-Qaeda’s Afghan sanctuary forced Osama bin Laden to rely on Maghreb affiliates for 

whom the GWOT provided a suitable geopolitical canvass for their revitalization. 

9 The United States and other Western powers. See, Daveed Gartenstein-Ross, “Declaring War on the 

‘Far Enemy’,” Foundation for Defense of Democracies, 9 August 2011.

10 Emily Hunt, Islamist Terrorism in Northwest Africa: A “Thorn in the Neck” of the United States?, Policy 

Focus No. 66 (Washington, DC: The Washington Institute for Near East Policy, 2007).

11 Thomas Hegghammer, “The Ideological Hybridization of Jihadi Groups,” Current Trends in Islamist 

Ideology 9 (November 2009), http://www.hudson.org/research/9866-the-ideological-hybridization

-of-jihadi-groups. 

12 Peter L. Bergen, The Longest War: The Enduring Conflict between America and al-Qaeda (New York: 

Free Press, 2011).
58 The Crisis of the African State

Al-Qaeda Central

and Its North African Affiliates

The Taliban’s 2001 overthrow destroyed al-Qaeda’s organization and financial infrastructure, severing its ability to mount major operations. By 

2002, the GWOT had resulted in the deaths or imprisonment of thousands 

of al-Qaeda operatives and much of its mid-level leadership. Al-Qaeda 

Central (or AQC, al-Qaeda Central Command) retreated to Pakistani Talibancontrolled Waziristan. 

Faced with diminished command and control capability, al-Qaeda moved 

to a decentralized alliance strategy with regional networks and radicalized 

immigrant communities in Europe. As articulated by al-Qaeda theorists 

Abu Musab al-Suri and Abu Bakr Naji, this decentralized strategy sought 

to unleash multiple battlefronts to weaken the West’s ability to wage war.13

Maghreb Islamist terror networks and their European émigré supporters 

offered al-Qaeda additional recruitment and financial resources. Moroccan, 

Libyan, and Algerian operatives in AQC and their links to home movements 

facilitated al-Qaeda’s use of groups such as GSPC.14 Maghreb jihadist networks aligned with al-Qaeda in a 2002 Istanbul meeting. Engineered by 

AQC leader Amir Azizi, the Istanbul meeting succeeded in getting Algerian, Moroccan, and Tunisian terror organizations to attack Western interests 

across the Mediterranean.15 Azizi’s prominence in AQC cannot be doubted, 

nor can his links to Spanish and Moroccan terror networks.16 The Moroccan 

jihadist developed al-Qaeda’s terror network in Spain, recruiting fighters 

and raising money for international jihad. During the 1990s, Azizi recruited Moroccan jihadists in Spain to train in al-Qaeda camps in Afghanistan. 

Many of these recruits were instructed in the use of cell phone-triggered 

bombs like those used to killed hundreds in the 2004 Madrid train attacks.

Azizi’s connections to the Moroccan Islamic Combatant Group (GICM) 

and the GSPC allowed him to direct attacks in North Africa and Europe. 

After the Istanbul meeting, the number of plots and attacks in North Africa 

13 Abu Musab al-Suri, Call to Global Islamic Resistance, https://www.archive.org/details/GlobalIslamicResistanceCall; and Abu Bakr Naji, The Management of Savagery: The Most Critical Stage through 

which the Umma Will Pass, trans. William McCants (Cambrige, MA: John M. Olin Institute for Strategic 

Studies at Harvard University, 2006).

14 Jonathan Schanzer, Al-Qaeda’s Armies: Middle East Affiliate Groups & the Next Generation of Terror

(New York: Specialist Press International, 2005). 

15 Reinares, “The Madrid Bombings and Global Jihadism.”

16 Ibid.
Al-Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb 59

increased. Among these were a disrupted 2002 plot to blow up U.S. warships in the Straits of Gibraltar, the 2002 bombing of a Tunisian synagogue 

that killed scores of German tourists, and the May 2003 Casablanca attacks 

that targeted Spanish and British interests.17 These events would later be 

followed by the 11 March 2004 Madrid train bombings in which 191 people 

were killed.

The Casablanca and Madrid attacks were a direct result of the GICM and 

GSPC partnership with al-Qaeda; the terrorists who committed these attacks had close group and familial interconnections. Investigation of the 

March Madrid train attacks document al-Qaeda’s cross-fertilization with 

local and regional groups. Throughout these operations, Azizi had close 

e-mail and telephone contact with members of the attack cells.18 Azizi’s 

prominence in al-Qaeda is verified by his 2005 death in Waziristan from 

a Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) predator drone attack. His corpse was 

found near Abu Hamza Rabia, who had ascended to al-Qaeda chief of external operations.19

The Iraq War tightened al-Qaeda’s relationship with Maghreb militants. 

Frustrated in its efforts to destabilize Algeria’s government, the GSPC 

sought to use the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq to raise its profile and prestige. GSCP leader Abdelmalek Droukdel recruited a thousand Algerian 

martyrs. The U.S. military estimated that, by 2005, one out of every four 

suicide bombers in Iraq was Algerian.20

While the flow of fighters into Iraq weakened GSPC’s capacity to wage 

jihad against the Algerian “apostates,” it repeated patterns elsewhere in the 

Maghreb where Moroccan and Libyan terror networks offered their best 

fighters to kill the American “infidel.” The progressive internationalization 

of the North African salafist-jihadist movement was later consolidated by 

al-Qaeda’s formation of a Maghreb affiliate. 

In September 2006, al-Qaeda leader Ayman al-Zawahiri announced 

the integration of the North African jihadist movement into the organization. Al-Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb (AQIM) was officially recognized 

by regional militants a year later. The AQIM-Maghreb partnership aims to 

17 Carlos Echeverría Jesús, “Radical Islam in the Maghreb,” Orbis 48, no. 2 (Spring 2004). 18 Reinares, “The Madrid Bombings and Global Jihadism.”

19 Ibid.

20 William Thornberry and Jaclyn Levy, Al Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb, Futures Case Study 4 (Washington, DC: Center for Strategic & International Studies, September 2011), http://csis.org/files/publication/110901_Thornberry_AQIM_WEB.pdf.
60 The Crisis of the African State

revitalize jihadist causes that separately had failed to achieve their central 

objectives. Since the Taliban’s overthrow, al-Qaeda’s organizational metamorphosis has been dependent on affiliates to recruit, train, and conduct 

terrorist operations. Al-Qaeda’s outreach to groups like the GSPC, GIA, and 

GICM gave it access to considerable capabilities. 

GSPC and GIA fighters continued to hone their skills at home, offering Afghanistan and Iraq a valuable resource; their fanaticism, ruthlessness, and 

training are well known across the globe. Algerian fighters represented the 

third highest number of foreign jihadists to die in Iraq, and they have been 

the vanguard in the cause of international jihad for almost 30 years.21 Additionally, they have organized jihadist cells throughout North Africa and 

Europe. Islamist success in the Maghreb means an almost inexhaustible 

supply of fighters for Iraq, Kashmir, Chechnya, and Afghanistan. 

GSPC and GIA cells exist throughout Europe and they are involved in 

criminal networks. The money raised through drug and immigrant smuggling, as well as the logistical services involving identity and credit card 

fraud, greatly facilitates the recruitment, indoctrination, and training of future generations of terrorists. GSPC and GIA European cells can be used by 

al-Qaeda to launch attacks against governments at home and abroad. Their 

fifth-column status22 is an invaluable tool to weaken Europe’s will to continue the Global War on Terrorism. The demographic, political, and economic 

tapestry of North Africa and the Sahel is suited for terrorist recruitment, 

indoctrination, and training. The Maghreb’s poverty and high population 

growth have contributed to generations of socially discontented youths 

who look to fundamentalist Islam to solve the region’s socioeconomic and 

political problems. Failed states in the Sahel and its warlords, disaffected 

tribes, and criminal networks are ideal terrorist allies. 

Al-Qaeda Central and AQIM operate synergistically with a nucleus providing ideological inspiration and constituent parts impelled to action.23

It would, however, be a mistake to conclude that this is a highly centralized, efficient organization. AQIM is a fractured movement of competing 

21 Diogo Novio, “Al Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb: Implications for Algeria’s Regional and International 

Relations,” IPRIS Working Paper, February 2010.

22 According to Encyclopaedia Britannica, a “fifth column” is a clandestine group or faction of subversive 

agents who attempt to undermine a nation’s solidarity by any means at their disposal.

23 Rick “Ozzie” Nelson and Thomas M. Sanderson, A Threat Transformed: Al Qaeda and Associated Movements in 2011 (Washington, DC: Center for Strategic & International Studies, February 2011), http://csis

.org/files/publication/110203_Nelson_AThreatTransformed_web.pdf.
Al-Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb 61

clans. By aligning with al-Qaeda, North African jihadists are able to adopt 

the AQIM brand name and benefit from its global contacts and insurgent 

fighting techniques. AQIM has repeatedly attacked the Algerian and Mauritanian governments; between September 2007 and May 2010, 30 attacks 

that killed and wounded hundreds were registered.24 Among the most 

serious of these assaults were:

• the December 2007 suicide bombing against a UN complex and 

the constitutional court building in Algiers that killed 62 people;

• the August 2008 ambush of an Algerian military convoy outside of 

Algiers that killed 11 soldiers;

• the August 2008 car bomb explosions outside a police barracks 

and hotel southeast of Algiers that killed 48 and injured 45;

• the June 2009 beheading of a British hostage; and 

• the July 2009 ambush of a convoy in a province west of Algiers that 

killed more than 20 soldiers. 

The attacks represent an Islamist rebuke of the Algerian government’s 

amnesty policy. The government’s strategy included releasing Islamist fighters from its penal system, but many of these fighters joined AQIM to renew 

jihad. Algeria’s failure with amnesty, reconciliation, and dialogue is testimony to the unwillingness of jihadists to end their armed struggle. For them, 

the millennial promise of a pure Islam requires a clean slate free of “Jahili 

barbarians”25 and “apostates.” 

The Moroccan, Algerian, Mauritanian, and Tunisian governments face Islamist insurgencies that presently do not threaten their existence. Even during 

the abyss of the Algerian Civil War, Islamists were never close to seizing 

power. Maghreb governments have oscillated between brutal repression 

and accommodation. Critical to these governments’ success has been the 

exploitation of divisions within the Islamist ranks and the capacity of the radical elements to alienate supporters through indiscriminate violence.

AQIM’s strategy of using improvised explosive devices (IEDs), car bombs, 

and suicide bombers suggests al-Qaeda’s influence over AQIM operations. 

24 “Al Qa’ida in the Islamic Maghreb,” Australian National Security, http://www.nationalsecurity.gov

.au/Listedterroristorganisations/Pages/Al-QaidaintheIslamicMaghrebAQIM.aspx.

25 Group solidarity of pre-Islamic days that followed no law and observed no morals.
62 The Crisis of the African State

While al-Qaeda support increased the tempo of attacks in 2007 and 2008, 

terror incidents in Algeria have fallen since 2009 and the Islamists have 

moved their terror operations to the Sahel.26

AQIM’s formation in 2007 did raise concerns in European capitals. With 

8 percent of the population in France identified as Muslim, French officials were especially alarmed. Some feared a return to the 1990s Islamist 

assaults as AQIM has continued to target France. AQIM has made similar 

attack threats against Spain. Ayman al-Zawahiri has repeatedly called for 

the “liberation” of al-Andalus and the Islamic conquest of Spanish North 

African enclaves in Ceuta and Melilla.27 Despite aspirations to wage a war 

against Madrid, AQIM has failed to mount operations against Spanish interests at home. 

The terror group has not been able to attack European soil and its main 

threat comes in the form of kidnapping European tourists and workers in 

the Sahel. These abductions (22 Europeans have been taken since 2008) 

have become a lucrative source of revenue with an estimated $25 million 

paid in ransom.28 AQIM is estimated to field only a few thousand jihadists, 

and its Algerian branch is split into Northeast Kabiya Mountain brigades 

committed to fighting the “near enemy” in Algiers and a Sahel faction that 

specialized in kidnapping and smuggling.29 The jihadist war against the 

“far enemy” amounted to the kidnapping and occasional killings of European hostages whose governments failed to pay the ransom or who had 

authorized military action against AQIM. AQC increasingly finds it difficult 

to control its fractured Maghreb branch. 

Since 2009, Islamist attacks in Algeria have declined. The North African 

salafist merger with al-Qaeda has not weakened Maghreb governments. 

Instead, Algerian counterterror measures and a fractured Islamist movement have moved jihadists toward the Sahel, hoping to exploit weak states. 

AQIM’s outward drift is ample testimony to its failed jihad against Algeria.

26 Andre Le Sage, The Evolving Threat of al Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb, Strategic Forum No. 268 

(Washington, DC: Institute for National Strategic Studies, National Defense University, July 2011), http://

ndupress.ndu.edu/Portals/68/Documents/stratforum/SF-268.pdf.

27 Reinares, “The Madrid Bombings and Global Jihadism.”

28 Le Sage, The Evolving Threat of al Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb. 29 Stephen Harmon, “From GSPC to AQIM: The Evolution of an Algerian Islamist Terrorist Group in an 

Al-Qa’ida Affiliate and Its Implications for the Sahara-Sahel Region,” Association of Concerned African 

Scholars, Bulletin No. 85 (Spring 2010): 12–29, http://www.concernedafricanscholars.org/docs/bulletin

85.harmon.pdf.
Al-Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb 63

AQIM has become strongest in the Sahel.30 The region’s weak states, tribal configurations, and poverty make it an ideal location for terror finance 

and recruitment. AQIM’s Sahel operations and alliance with the Tuaregs 

offer a territorial niche in which to train prospective jihadists. Recent events 

in Libya and Mali have given AQIM a chance for regeneration and a greater 

strategic opportunity to wage jihad.

The Fall of Qaddafi, the Malian Sanctuary,

and AQIM’S Rebirth 

Qaddafi’s overthrow raised fears that Libya could become a failed state.31

Radical Islamist militias tied to al-Qaeda in East Libya have heightened 

Western anxiety over insurgent recruitment and training camps. These 

worries are exacerbated by a post-Qaddafi government unable to secure 

weapons stocks, contain militia violence, or prevent the flow of arms to 

AQIM militants.32

Concerns over an incipient terror campaign have been vindicated by attacks on Western interests. On 11 September 2012, al-Qaeda affiliate Ansar 

al-Sharia attacked the U.S. embassy in Benghazi, killing Ambassador J. Christopher Stevens and three other Americans. The U.S. consulate was poorly 

guarded despite repeated embassy warnings that AQIM militants were mobilizing against U.S. targets in the country. The attack triggered a congressional 

firestorm in Washington and precipitated a number of investigations. How 

a U.S. embassy could be assaulted by dozens of heavily armed Islamist militants and why the consulate was so poorly guarded are questions that have 

yet to be addressed. And little has been done to bring Ambassador Steven’s 

killers to justice as Libyan anarchy escalated beyond its borders.

In early January 2013, AQIM-aligned groups attacked an Algerian gas complex operated by Norwegian and British companies at In Amenas, taking 41 

foreign workers and hundreds of Algerians hostage. Orchestrated by an exAQIM leader, the groups demanded an end to French military intervention in 

Mali and the release of hundreds of Islamic militants from Algerian jails.

After surrounding the plant, Algerian security forces assaulted the com30 Wolfram Lacher, “Organized Crime and Terrorism in the Sahel: Drivers, Actors, Options,” SWP Comments 1, German Institute for International and Security Affairs, January 2011, http://www.swp-berlin.org

/fileadmin/contents/products/comments/2011C01_lac_ks.pdf.

31 Christopher M. Blanchard, Libya: Transition and U.S. Policy, Council on Foreign Relations, 9 August 

2012, http://www.cfr.org/libya/crs-libya-transition-us-policy/p28993.

32 Ibid.
64 The Crisis of the African State

plex, hoping to free the hostages. During four days and three military assaults, 

hundreds escaped and dozens of terrorists and 38 hostages were killed. The 

attack had been planned by radical Islamist leader Mokhtar Belmokhtar and 

his al-Mua’qi’oon Biddam, or Those Who Sign in Blood Brigade. 

Belmokhtar broke with AQIM to form his brigade in January 2013 in 

hopes of consolidating his personal rule over stretches of the Sahel. Known 

as Mr. Marlboro for his fame as a tobacco smuggler, Belmokhtar is considered a high-level terrorist leader. The U.S. government recently offered a 

reward of $5 million to secure his capture.33 Belmokhtar’s group has considerable geographic reach with operations in Libya, Mali, Niger, and Algeria.

Fighting between tribal militias in Libya has led to national disunion and 

an extension of AQIM influence. Al-Qaeda’s presence is strong along Libya’s 

southern border with Mali where the Libyan state has traditionally been weak. 

The country’s stability is dependent upon a failing government that that has 

yet to curb tribal and Islamist militias. Since the 2011 NATO intervention, Libya 

has devolved into civil war with Islamist Misrata-based militias fighting government forces and their Zintan-based tribal allies. Government forces in 2014 

were driven out of Tripoli and Benghazi as pro-Islamist militants set up an alternative regime to challenge the legitimacy of the Libyan government now 

based in Tobruk. Despite their common ideological agenda, Islamist groups 

like the al-Qaeda aligned Ansar al-Sharia (ASL) and the Islamic State (IS) have 

established their own rule in Benghazi and Derna.34 The fracturing of the Libyan jihadist movement mirrors the larger conflicts between al-Qaeda and the IS 

seen in battles between the two bands in the Syrian Civil War. Libya is rapidly 

disintegrating into a loose confederation of criminal organizations, militias, and 

terror groups that have established their own microstates. Jihadists aligned 

with al-Qaeda and the IS openly compete for guns, money, recruits, and dominance. As in Syria, fighting between these groups may yet materialize.

Assisted by forces led by the Qaddafi-era General Khalifa Haftar, Zintan 

tribal militias, and Egyptian financial and military support, October 2014 

saw the Tobruk government go on the offensive against the Islamists.35

33 For more information, see https://www.rewardsforjustice.net/english/mokhtar_belmokhtar.html.

34 Aaron Y. Zelin, The Islamic State’s First Colony in Libya, Policy Watch 2325 (Washington, DC: Washington Institute for Near East Policy, 2014), http://www.washingtoninstitute.org/policy-analysis/view

/the-islamic-states-first-colony-in-libya.

35 Barak Barfi, Khalifa Haftar: Rebuilding Libya from the Top Down, Research Notes 22 (Washington, DC: 

Washington Institute for Near East Policy, 2014), http://www.washingtoninstitute.org/policy-analysis

/view/khalifa-haftar-rebuilding-libya-from-the-top-down.
Al-Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb 65

Fighting rages across Libya as government forces contest ASL’s control of 

Benghazi and fight the Islamists’ control over Tripoli. The civil war in Libya 

shows no sign of abating for no one group is able to assert dominance, 

leaving many jihadist groups virtual safe havens. The development of these 

terror sanctuaries in Libya is a source of continued concern for the region 

and international governments.36 Ousted by French forces from its Malian 

sanctuary in 2013, AQIM brigades have repositioned across the border in 

southern Libya, where they hope to construct a terror safe haven, financing 

their operations through illicit activity. 

 Libya’s precarious post-Qaddafi transition mirrors the collapse of state 

order in Mali. Al-Qaeda’s drive for strategic depth in West Africa has been 

facilitated by the destabilizing consequences of Qaddafi’s overthrow and 

weakness of states across the region. Maghreb Islamists have established 

good relations with Sahelian Tuareg tribes, supporting their smuggling 

operations and encouraging their resistance against West African governments.37 Some AQIM leaders have reinforced this relationship by marrying 

Tuareg women connected to important tribal families.

The Tuaregs have rebelled in the past, hoping to create an “Azawad” national homeland. Their last rebellion in Mali in the mid 1990s was resolved 

by a Qaddafi-brokered peace agreement.38 Qaddafi, the self-proclaimed 

“King of African Kings,” reinforced his military capability by forming Tuareg 

militias, providing employment for thousands of impoverished young men.

Qaddafi used African mercenaries to combat the spring 2011 Libyan 

revolt that eventually received armed Western support. Faced with NATO 

airstrikes and hostile Libyan rebels, thousands of heavily armed proQaddafi Tuareg mercenaries streamed across the Libyan border into Mali. 

The diversion of arms and men into Northern Mali altered the balance of 

power, igniting a Tuareg revolt. The National Movement for the Liberation 

of Azawad (MNLA) rebel force joined with AQIM affiliates and made substantial progress against government forces. 

The March 2012 military coup in Bamako by rogue Malian Army officers 

36 Andrew Engel, Libya as a Failed State: Causes, Consequences, Options, Research Notes 24 (Washington, DC: Washington Institute for Near East Policy, 2014), http://www.washingtoninstitute.org/policy

-analysis/view/libya-as-a-failed-state-causes-consequences-options.

37 Micha’el Tanchum, “Al-Qa’ida’s West African Advance: Nigeria’s Boko Haram, Mali’s Touareg, and the 

Spread of Salafi Jihadism,” Israel Journal of Foreign Affairs 6, no. 2 (May 2012): 75–90. 38 Ibid.
66 The Crisis of the African State

who overthrew the civilian government created a northern power vacuum.39

With the dissolution of army units in the north, the rebels and their Islamist 

partners marched into Kindal, Goa, and Timbuktu. By April, rebels had announced an independent Islamic Tuareg state. Shortly afterward, fighting 

between MNLA and its Islamist allies began. Ansar Dine (AD) and Movement for Unity and Jihad in West Africa (MUJWA) dislodged moderate 

Tuareg rebels, consolidating Islamist control over the north. Described as a 

“jihadist condominium” by Spanish terror expert Fernando Reinares, AQIM, 

AD, and MUJWA control over the north aimed to create a terror training 

sanctuary and a pure sharia state.40

Given their conflicts over past policy, such a jihadist alliance is extraordinary. 

Formed in 2011, MUJWA broke away from the AQIM organization to chart a 

purely West African path of jihad.41 Its predominately Mauritanian leadership 

promotes an ideology that combines West African nationalism with jihad.42

Some observers have argued that racial tensions between the black African 

MUJWA and the Algerian-dominated AQIM forced the separation, while others claim the split occurred due to leadership and strategy issues.43

AD is a Tuareg-dominated Islamist militia led by Iyad Ag Ghali, who 

played an important role in past ethnic revolts. Known as “Defenders of the 

Faith,” AD forged a relationship with MNLA in January 2012 and brokered 

the AQIM-MUJWA reconciliation. Reinares believes that AQIM is the dominant group within the jihadist ranks.44 Al-Qaeda, moreover, has historically 

played a role in the region. AQIM’s relationship with the Tuareg tribes is 

based on joint lucrative smuggling routes. With its Tuareg roots, AD’s role 

within the rebel movement catalyzed revolutionary unity. 

By late April, the Islamists violently displaced the MNLA and transformed 

a separatist revolt into a quest for a new West African Afghanistan.45 AD and 

MUJWA subsequently seized major northern cities and their forces marched 

39 Harvey Glickman, “The Coup in Mali—Background and Foreground,” FPRI E-notes, April 2012, http://

www.fpri.org/articles/2012/04/coup-mali-background-and-foreground.

40 Fernando Reinares, “FATA in North Mali,” Expert Comment 15, Real Insituto Elcano, 31 July 2012. 41 Tanchum, “Al-Qa’ida’s West African Advance.”

42 Dario Cristiani, “West Africa’s MOJWA Militants—Competition for al-Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb?,” 

Terrorism Monitor 10, no. 7 (6 April 2012). 43 Ibid. See also “Some Things We May Think about MUJWA,” The Moor Next Door (blog), 30 May 2012, 

https://themoornextdoor.wordpress.com/2012/05/30/somethings-we-think-about-mujwa/. 

44 Reinares, “FATA in North Mali.” 

45 Javier Valenzuela, “Furia Iconaclastsa Salafista en Tombuctú,” El País Internacional, 8 July 2012, http://

internacional.elpais.com/internacional/2012/07/08/actualidad/1341698882_271618.html.
Al-Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb 67

south relatively unopposed. Salafi jihadist forces wasted little time erecting 

a Taliban-like state with religious police and brutal policies. Dispensing with 

Tuareg nationalism, AD and its allies desired a trans-Islamic state where Sufi 

shrines are desecrated, alcohol users are whipped, and unmarried couples 

are stoned. Thieves have had their limbs amputated without medical supervision, instruction in biology is forbidden, and the population has been 

brutally subjugated.

AQIM sent a thousand of its militants into northern Mali with sophisticated Libyan arms.46 Under AD protection, they established terror camps and 

intensified recruitment efforts. Al-Qaeda Web sites promise a new jihadist war against “Christian crusaders.” AQIM’s criminal activities and ransom 

funds from Western hostages give it considerable financial means. The flow 

of heavy arms, including shoulder-fired missiles into north Mali, fortified Islamist efforts to fund their secular Tuareg competitors. 

Given their hegemonic dominance in the north and their brutal policies, 

AQIM and its allies have encountered local resistance, however. Jihadist 

rule was unpopular, especially in the lower north where the Tuaregs are a 

distinct minority. AD’s control over historic Timbuktu and its destruction of 

Sufi burial sites and mosques engendered the international community’s 

condemnation. The Islamists’ brutal application of Sharia law ignited local 

protests as many chaffed at “Talibanesque” rule.

AD responded defiantly to protests of its desecration of Sufi shrines. The 

group justified its actions, saying that it seeks to promote tawhid (the unity of God) by destroying shirk (polytheism).47 Such statements underscore 

al-Qaeda affiliates’ sectarian agenda aimed at local purification and ideological zeal. 

Islamist dominance over north Mali created countervailing national and 

regional efforts. As such, the March 2012 military coup was short lived. 

Faced with international sanctions, rebellious army officers agreed to step 

down from power in April, allowing for a new civilian transitional government in Bamako and democratic elections.

Civilian rule in Bamako has been fortified by regional efforts. The Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS) is preparing a 3,000-man 

46 Reinares, “FATA in North Mali.”

47 Derek Henry Flood, “Between Islamization and Secession: The Contest for Northern Mali,” CTC Sentinel 5, no. 7 (July 2012), https://www.ctc.usma.edu/posts/between-islamization-and-secession-the

-contest-for-northern-mali.
68 The Crisis of the African State

pan-African Army to reinforce security in the north. The French are spearheading efforts to train this force and provide logistical support. Fear that a 

Salafi jihadist-dominated state could spread jihad southward was vindicated by Islamist incursions into central Mali. By early January 2013, Islamist 

forces were marching against the capital and Mali’s panicked interim president called for French assistance. Faced with the logistical problems of 

preparing a pan-African force that would not be ready until fall 2013, France 

militarily intervened. 

France’s Operation Serval bombed rebel positions in the north and was 

followed by a ground campaign aimed at securing towns around major 

highways in north central Mali.48 By late January 2013, the Islamist bastions 

of Gao, Kidal, and Timbuktu fell with scarce resistance before the Franco

-Malian troops. Fears that the Islamists would use shoulder-fired rockets 

against French aircraft had not been supported. The local population that 

had been brutally suppressed by Islamist rule enthusiastically greeted the 

troops. Many of AQIM’s supporters were killed in retaliatory attacks after 

French and Malian forces recovered the north.

The French then paved a path for an assault against AQIM and AD 

northern fiefdoms in the deserts and mountains. By early March, one of 

AQIM’s top leaders—Abdelhamid Abou Zeid—had died in the fighting and 

his brigade was shattered by French airstrikes and Chadian ground forces. 

Some commentators see the Islamists mounting a protracted guerilla war—

similar to al-Shabaab’s tactics against African Union soldiers—against the 

French-trained pan-African force. With forces levels reaching close to 4,000 

soldiers, the French hoped to disengage from Mali within the year. 

It is clear, however, that Islamists had overreached and miscalculated. By 

moving south, they risked losing their northern sanctuary. Like the Algerian 

case, Islamists forces fragmented in response to battlefield reverses. Factions 

of AD are willing to negotiate with Bamako, while others promise to continue their quest for a sharia state. Currently, Islamist forces are in disarray. 

AQIM and its allies hope to regroup in Libya and Niger, where they recently 

launched attacks against African troops and French mining interests. Radical 

Islamists in Mali continue to mount a low-level insurgent campaign against 

pan-African and French forces.

48 For more on French Army operations in Mali, see Michael Shurkin, France’s War in Mali: Lessons for an 

Expeditionary Army (Santa Monica, CA: Rand, 2014), http://www.rand.org/pubs/research_reports/RR770

.html.
Al-Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb 69

Surprised by the rapidity and scale of France’s military intervention, AQIM 

also hopes to regroup in the mountains of Mali near the Algerian border. 

They are unlikely to take back what had been a genuine terror sanctuary for 

close to a year and experiment in extremist Islam. The United States’ agreement with Niger to host a Predator drone base to assist French and African 

forces also weighs against rapid Islamist resurgence.49

Even having evolved from the failed GIA terror campaign in Algeria, AQIM 

has not learned from past lessons. It continues to adhere to a dysfunctional totalitarian worldview that impels many Islamists into counterproductive 

behavior. Such mistakes are inevitable for fanatics who are frequently oblivious to the ramifications of their actions. Ironically, AQIM leader Abdelmalek 

Droukdel presciently advised his forces in Mali to relax their repressive rule 

in a July 2012 letter found by the Associated Press in Timbuktu. In his missive, he admonishes his militants and writes, 

Some of the examples where we feel you were hasty in applying Sharia 

. . . include . . . the destruction of the shrines . . . and the application of 

the had (religious punishment) in the case of adultery, in the lashing of 

people and the use of force to stop things are haram, and the fact that 

you have prevented women from going out, and prevented children 

from playing and searched the houses of the population . . . so your officials need to control themselves and commit themselves to the guide 

that we will elaborate here.50

Droukdel feared that AQIM’s excesses would invariably invite Western 

military intervention, ending the group’s safe haven. His militants failed to 

heed his advice. Droukdel’s complaints about his network’s ideological extremism and penchant for counterproductive violence echoes bin Laden’s 

concerns about the future viability of the al-Qaeda movement. Seized by 

U.S. forces when they stormed the Saudi leader’s Abbottabad compound, 

bin Laden’s letters chastise the leaders of al-Qaeda branches in Iraq, So49 Craig Whitlock, “Drone Base in Niger Gives U.S. a Strategic Foothold in West Africa,” Washington Post, 

21 March 2013, http://www.washingtonpost.com/world/national-security/drone-base-in-niger-gives

-us-a-strategic-foothold-in-west-africa/2013/03/21/700ee8d0-9170-11e2-9c4d-798c073d7ec8_story

.html.

50 “Mali: Al Qaida’s Sahara Playbook,” Associated Press, http://hosted.ap.org/specials/interactives

/_international/_pdfs/al-qaida-manifesto.pdf. Droukdel’s complaints about the behavior of his militants 

in northern Mali and their counterproductive violence and ideological zeal echoes the concerns of bin 

Laden and others in al-Qaeda’s central leadership about the brutality of affiliate organizations and how 

they have lost popular support. 
70 The Crisis of the African State

malia, and Yemen for the victimization of Muslims in their misconceived 

wars against apostate enemies.51 It is increasingly clear that the al-Qaeda

movement has fractured and devolved into a decentralized struggle 

waged mainly against apostate Muslim regimes. This is underscored by alQaeda’s February 2014 expulsion of its Iraqi affiliate (Islamic State of Iraq 

or ISI) for ISI’s failure to withdraw its forces from the Syrian conflict.52 Since 

its expulsion from Zawahiri’s organization, ISI has conquered a third of Iraq 

and Syria, breaking colonial-era borders, and it has conducted a terror 

campaign against other Syrian rebels including al-Qaeda’s official Syrian 

affiliate Jabhat al-Nusra (JN). Thousands of jihadists have died in Syria as a 

consequence of the infighting between rival Islamist groups.53

The rise of ISI in Iraq and Syria and the group’s June 2014 announcement 

of a transnational caliphate (the Islamic State) have put additional pressure 

on AQIM’s organizational cohesiveness. In late 2014, an AQIM faction declaring itself the “Soldiers of the Caliphate” bolted from the network and 

pledged allegiance to IS.54 This development mirrors IS inroads in eastern 

Libya where the group has seized control over the city of Derna, hoping 

to align with IS’s Egyptian affiliate Ansar Jerusalem.55 Derna’s Islamic Youth 

Shura Council56 has set about emulating IS’s Syrian governance model in 

Raqqa by imposing a harsh version of Sharia law reinforced by beheadings 

and morality police.57 IS formed three provinces in Libya in November 2014 

and the organization has taken credit for a series of terrorist incidents in the 

country, including grisly filmed executions of dozens of Egyptian and Ethiopian Christians.58 IS assaults against Tripoli’s Corinthia Hotel, attacks against 

foreign embassies, seizure of the town of Nawfaliyah, and bombings of oil 

51 Don Rassler, Gabriel Koehler-Derrick, Liam Collins, Muhammad al-Obaidi, and Nelly Lahoud, Letters 

from Abbottabad: Bin Laden Sidelined? (New York: Combating Terrorism Center at West Point, 3 May 

2012), https://www.ctc.usma.edu/posts/letters-from-abbottabad-bin-ladin-sidelined. 

52 Thomas Joscelyn, “Al Qaeda’s General Command Disowns Islamic State of Iraq and the Sham,” Long 

War Journal, 3 February 2014, http://www.longwarjournal.org/archives/2014/02/al_qaedas_general

_co.php.

53 Thomas Joscelyn, “Zawahiri Again Addresses Jihadist Infighting in Syria,” Long War Journal, 25 May 

2014, http://www.longwarjournal.org/archives/2014/05/zawahiri_addresses_j.php.

54 Reuters, “AQIM Defectors Pledge Loyalty to ISIS,” Daily Star, 15 September 2014, http://www.dailystar

.com.lb/News/Middle-East/2014/Sep-15/270689-aqim-defectors-pledge-loyalty-to-isis.ashx.

55 Zelin, The Islamic State’s First Colony. 56 An Islamic extremist group begun in Derna (eastern Libya) in March 2014.

57 Engel, Libya as a Failed State. 58 Harleen Gambhir, ISIS Global Intelligence Summary: March 1–May 7, 2015 (Washington, DC: The 

Institute for the Study of War), http://www.understandingwar.org/sites/default/files/ISIS%20INTSUM

_Final.pdf.
Al-Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb 71

refining plants represent a concerted campaign to plunge the country into 

chaos.59 In the town of Qubba, IS suicide bombers killed more than 40 people in early 2015.60 Aaron Zelin argues that AQIM-affiliated Ansar al-Sharia 

Libya (ASL) is in decline with defections to IS’s growing network.61 ASL, 

moreover, has been weakened by its street fighting with General Khalifa 

Haftar’s forces and the death of its historic leader Muhamad al-Zahawi. The 

defection of a leading ASL ideologue to IS has given impetus to speculation 

of its merger into IS’s ranks. Controversy, moreover, has been generated 

by reports that Mokhtar Belmokhtar’s group, al-Mourabitoun, has sworn fidelity to IS, a claim both supported and rejected by different factions in the 

organization.62 Already fractured into a loose confederation of competing 

brigades, AQIM is not prepared to confront the IS challenge and it is not 

unrealistic to expect further defections. 

AQIM’s Malian experience is consistent with failed past Islamist revolts. 

Whether in Afghanistan, Egypt, or Algeria, radical Islam has floundered as a 

consequence of internal factionalism and counterproductive extremist violence. Similar to its GIA precursor, AQIM has fallen prey to intolerance and 

a rigid ideological vision that invariably invites popular revulsion and international reaction. Continued counterterror pressure against the group and 

efforts to strengthen security capabilities of regional governments is critical 

to ensure the jihadists cannot expand their terror campaign. It is especially 

important that international and regional counterterror operations work to 

facilitate divisions among Islamist groups along ideological fissures, particularly when such power struggles impede jihadist seizures of power.63

French policy may play a critical role in this process. The region’s fragile 

security, weak states, and Mali’s inability to address Tuareg grievances have 

forced the French to remain in the region. While French combat forces in 

59 Daveed Gartenstein-Ross and Nathaniel Barr, “Is Libya the Next Stronghold of the Islamic State?,” 

Foreign Policy, 2 March 2015, http://foreignpolicy.com/2015/03/02/is-libya-the-next-stronghold-of

-the-islamic-state/. 

60 Thomas Joscelyn, “Suicide Bombings by Islamic State’s ‘Province’ Rock Libyan Town,” Long War Journal, 20 February 2015, http://www.longwarjournal.org/archives/2015/02/suicide-bombings-by-islamic

-states-province-rock-libyan-town.php.

61 Aaron Y. Zelin, “The Rise and Decline of Ansar al-Sharia in Libya” Current Trends in Islamist Ideology, 

Hudson Institute, 6 April 2014, http://www.hudson.org/research/11197-the-rise-and-decline-of-ansar-al

-sharia-in-libya. 

62 Recently, controversy has been generated by reports that al-Mourabitoun has sworn fidelity to IS, a 

claim supported and rejected by different factions within the organization.

63 Sergei Boeke and Antonin Tisseron, “Mali’s Long Road Ahead,” Rusi Journal 159, no. 5 (October 2014): 

32–41. 
72 The Crisis of the African State

Mali have decreased from their original 4,000 soldiers, France is expanding 

its military presence across the region. Announced in July 2014, France’s 

Operation Barkhane envisions a regional counterterror strategy supported by its military bases in Mali, Chad, Niger, and the Côte d’Ivoire.

64 With 

approximately 3,000 troops in the region, the French have formed a rapid 

reaction force to deal with the threat of jihadist attacks and safe havens.65

France’s selection of Chad for Operation Barkhane’s headquarters enhances its capacity to respond to a multiplicity of threats given that the 

country’s air bases allow it to attack AQIM or Boko Haram. Libya’s descent 

into armed chaos, AQIM’s presence, Ansar al-Sharia’s Benghazi’s Shura 

Council, and the Islamic State’s presence in Derna and Sirte have raised 

fears of a renewed jihadist offensive against Western interests. French economic interests and its sizeable expatriate community in Niger and Chad 

are likely to keep France engaged in the Sahel. As seen in Mali, France was 

able to upend AQIM’s brief terrorist safe haven, and their commitment to 

the region is essential to mitigate the terrorist threat. While the turmoil of 

the Arab Spring has contributed to AQIM’s resurgence, the organization’s 

many internal fractures, ideological excesses, competition with other jihadist groups and its dysfunctional use of extremist violence are likely to 

diminish its popular appeal and capacity to seize power. 

64 Andrew McGregor, “Operation Barkhane: France’s New Military Approach to Counter-Terrorism in 

Africa,” Terrorism Monitor 12, no. 15 (July 2014): 3–4. 65 John Daly, “Counter-Terrorism or Neo-Colonialism? The French Army in Africa,” Terrorism Monitor 12, 

no. 5 (March 2014): 6–10.
Chapter Three

Small Wars:

Tactical and Strategic Drivers

in Northern Mali, 2013

by Henri Boré*

One of the striking points in the current conflict in northern Mali is that the 

lessons learned in the 1920s and the 1960s and so brilliantly captured by T. 

E. Lawrence in his Seven Pillars of Wisdom and David Galula in his Counterinsurgency Warfare still apply today to what Marines refer to as small wars.1

In the context of a small war-type conflict, local, regional, and international 

cross-dynamics often undermine any quick resolution of the battle at least 

from a strategic standpoint. Indeed, the variety of players involved and the 

complexity of their ties and relationships often turn initial military tactical 

successes into profound political and economic quagmires that derail any 

attempt to restore local and regional stability. Many examples can be found 

in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries from Indochina to Algeria, Vietnam, and Afghanistan. Mali in 2013 is a case in point as illustrated below. 

The current conflict in northern Mali points to three primary lessons 

learned from T. E. Lawrence and David Galula. First, history matters. Second, 

conventional forces deployed to Mali need to focus on the risk of “eating 

soup with a knife.”2 Third, a military response cannot fix a political problem. 

First Small Wars Lesson: 

History Matters

Understanding history is critical to successfully plan and achieve small wars. 

In the context of Mali, understanding the precolonial and postcolonial his-

* Col Henri Bore (Ret) is the Africa desk officer at the Marine Corps University Center for Advanced Operational Culture Learning (CAOCL). 

1 See T. E. Lawrence, Seven Pillars of Wisdom: A Triumph (New York: Penguin, 1991); and David Galula, 

Counterinsurgency Warfare: Theory and Practice (Westport, CT: Praeger Security International, 1964). 2 T. E. Lawrence wrote that “Making war upon insurgents is messy and slow, like eating soup with a knife,” 

so it is difficult to fully appreciate until you have done it.

73
74 The Crisis of the African State

tory of the region provides political and military leaders with strategic and 

tactical advantages. In that respect, local and regional history reminds us of 

two paramount factors.

From a long-term perspective, the conflict between northern and southern Mali is rooted in the long-standing precolonial racial and cultural divide 

between Saharan groups that include the Tuaregs of northern Mali and the 

black population in central and southern Mali, mainly the Bambara groups.3

Tuareg and Bambara cultures may be as foreign to each other as a Japanese citizen can be from an American. The Tuareg and Bambara groups of 

precolonial history often despised each other and, in 2013, they still do to 

some extent. Acts of hate are not uncommon on both sides. 

From a mid-term perspective, the growth of an Islamic extremist ideology in northern Mali is historically rooted in the 1990s war that opposed 

the Algerian government to the Islamist groups across Algeria. From a 

shorter-term perspective, the primary cause of the proliferation of heavy 

weaponry in northern Mali can be found in the aftermath of the 2011 toppling of Qaddafi in Libya, when heavily armed fighters fled to neighboring 

countries and across the Sahel region.

The second historical factor relates to the traditional social structure in 

the Sahel. Local influential players across the region, from political elites 

to successful businessmen, have traditionally built subtle and convenient 

political alliances even with their worst enemies, and the influence of personal relationships between conventional dominant players is paramount. 

As a result, the conflict in northern Mali involves a variety of regional stakeholders, such as Mauritania, Algeria, Libya, Niger, and Chad, who share 

similar interests. The fact that Algeria plays a critical role in the resolution of 

the conflict in northern Mali, for instance, is well understood by all national 

and regional actors. The impact of the conflict also affects a larger circle of 

regional stakeholders who are facing political and security challenges, as 

recently seen in northern Nigeria.4

Another example of the regional domino effect of the Malian conflict can 

be found in the intervention of Chadian forces. Chad is not a member of 

3 Bernard Lugan, Histoire de l’Afrique: Des Origines à nos Jours [in French] (Paris: Ellipses, 2009). 4 For more on these challenges, see Lema Ijtemaye, Backgrounder: Boko Haram and Political Instability 

in Nigeria (Ontario, Canada: Security Sector Reform Resource Centre, July 2014); and After the Election: 

Fundamental Security Challenges Nigeria Must Face (Fort McNair, Washington, DC: Africa Center for 

Strategic Studies, March 2015), http://africacenter.org/2015/03/after-the-election-fundamental-security

-challenges-nigeria-must-face/.
Small Wars 75

the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS). History, however, reminds us that it is a matter of national security for Chadian President 

Idriss Déby and his Gorane ethnic-led government to prevent the heavily 

armed groups (katibas) of AQIM from fleeing northern Mali and moving to 

northern Chad. Many of these katibas are composed of Chadian warriors 

who fought in Libya alongside Qaddafi in 2011; many of these fighters are 

mostly Toubous, a dominant ethnic group of northern Chad, whose spiritual guide used to live in Tripoli and was close to Qaddafi. The Toubou and 

Gorane groups have been long-standing rivals with a violent history of civil 

wars for the control of central power.5 Therefore, today’s fragile Chadian 

political stability would be threatened if these heavily armed Toubou fighters were able to make a comeback in an attempt to regain control of the 

capital city of N’Djamena, as has been seen in many occasions from 1980 to 

2008. The 1980 war opposed the Gorani former dictator Hissen Habré and 

the Toubou former president Goukouni Oueddei.6 In 2008, the struggle for 

power between Idris Déby and his nephew Timan Erdimi led to the violent 

battle for N’Djamena in March.7

Second Small Wars Lesson: 

Do Not “Eat Soup with a Knife”

“War upon rebellion was messy and slow, like eating soup with a knife,” 

T. E. Lawrence recalled in Seven Pillars of Wisdom. Military operations in 

northern Mali against the AQIM katibas may well take the same turn if the 

sub-Saharan African forces from ECOWAS prove unable to adapt to the 

specific and traditional way of war in the Sahel region. This way of war has 

shaped all military operations for centuries at the tactical and strategic levels. The modern conventional national forces of Mauritania and Chad know 

it well; their doctrine, organization, and equipment were designed accordingly. The cultural reality is that most of sub-Saharan militaries from Senegal, 

Côte d’Ivoire, Togo, Benin, and Nigeria are foreign to the Sahel way of war. 

With regard to the tactical level, Chadian forces understand that operational success in the Sahel stems from the constant mobility of small and 

lightly equipped units. Most of their soldiers are ascetic and resilient north5 Jean Chapelle, Nomades Noirs du Sahara: Les Toubous [in French] (Paris: L’Harmattan, 1982). 6 See Robert Buijtenhuijs, Le Frolinat et les Guerres Civiles du Chad (1977–1984) [in French] (Paris: Khartala African Studies Center, 1987), 157–63.

7 Author interviews with U.S and French military attachés, N’Djamena, Chad, April 2008.
76 The Crisis of the African State

ern clan warriors who are used to living and fighting in complex terrain 

and austere conditions. According to their northern clan cultures, they do 

not fear death and they follow leaders who are renowned to fight from the 

front. In 2008, for instance, the chief of staff of the Chadian National Army 

was killed in action on the front line while manning a machine gun in a 

Toyota pickup to stop an armed rebellion. During the same event, Chadian 

President Idriss Déby, also a former chief of staff of the army, flew an attack 

helicopter to strike rebel forces on the outskirts of N’Djamena, the capital 

city.8

There is a saying among these Chadian forces: “If you want to win, fight 

like the wind.” This adage emphasizes the critical need for mobility in the 

Sahel terrain. Indeed, Chadian units that engaged Libyan conventional forces in northern Chad in the 1980s were highly mobile. Always on the move, 

company-size columns constantly “sailed” the Sahara desert, never stayed 

more than a day in the same location, and struck heavily armed Libyan forces in successive deadly hit-and-run attacks.9

Finally, a history of operations in the Sahel shows that, in addition to bravery, the success of military actions depends on the existence of an armada 

of spies and informants. The combat effectiveness of the Chadian, Mauritanian, and Algerian military organizations rests primarily in their intelligence 

capacity. Chadian intelligence on Libyan forces in the 1980s was collected 

by a wide network of spies and informants in Libya and in Chad, all on the 

Chadian government’s payroll. Their intel was often preferred by army staff 

over that provided by Western satellite imagery.10

The core of the AQIM heavily armed katibas fled the main urban centers 

of northern Mali shortly after the French aerial campaign began in January 

2013. It is possible that some of these katibas—especially those composed 

of primarily Tuaregs and Toubous—will continue fighting in the Sahel traditional guerilla-type warfare. ECOWAS intends to quickly deploy the 

African-led International Support Mission to Mali (AFISMA) as an expeditionary force. Yet, this force will have to prove that its units can meet such 

war-fighting standards. Many observers remain skeptical. If they “eat soup 

with a knife” as T. E. Lawrence recommended, these forces may not be able 

to secure the line of Timbuktu-Kidal-Gao. 

8 Author interviews with American and French military advisors, N’Djamena, Chad, April 2008.

9

 Feedback from French military advisors who operated with the Chadian forces in Moussoro, Chad, 1984.

10 Ibid.
Small Wars 77

Many ECOWAS planners acknowledge that only the Chadian forces within the AFISMA currently have the operational culture and capacity required 

to find, fight, and destroy the AQIM katibas in northern Mali. As for the Malian military, expectations remain very low. After decades and millions of 

dollars and Euros spent, most of the foreign military training and education 

programs have been unable to overcome a profound national culture of 

corruption in Mali. With regard to leadership ethics, well-designed curricula 

on ethics and human rights did not meet the objective of integrating ethic 

codes into the rules of engagement. For example, the African Contingency Operations Training and Assistance (ACOTA) program taught in 2005 in 

Mali did not close the long-standing racial gap between northern Arab and 

Tuareg groups and the southern black Bambara groups as seen with the 

Malian 62d Motorized Infantry Regiment based in Mopti-Sévaré.11

According to the French minister of defense, almost 3,000 French troops 

will be on the ground to prevent any offensive from AQIM against southern 

Mali and the capital city of Bamako and to pave the way for the deployment 

of West African forces. The French military intervention is already considered a success at least in the short term. French Marines and legionnaires 

have specific experience in this region and were once very familiar with 

Sahel warfare practices, especially after decades of military operations in 

northern Chad, northern Mauritania, and southern Algeria between the 

1930s and the 1990s.

Whether the announced turnover between French forces and AFISMA 

will prevent the AQIM katibas from resuming operations in northern Mali 

in the near future remains to be seen. The indicators for potential tactical 

failure of a conventional force operating in the area of operations—that is, 

“eating soup with a knife” in northern Mali—could include:

• Setting up large static military bases in the Timbuktu, Gao, and 

Kidal areas; 

• Focusing on force protection rather than mobility;

• Equipping ground forces with main battle tanks and heavy armored 

vehicles to patrol the main roads and man–fixed checkpoints;

• Focusing on short-term tactics based mainly on air power effects;

• Relying on signals intelligence (SIGINT) more than on human intelligence (HUMINT) collection in terms of intelligence activity; and

11 Feedback from the ACOTA team leader in Mopti, Mali, 2005.
78 The Crisis of the African State

• Underestimating the ability of the AQIM katibas to conduct enduring indirect guerilla warfare in the area of operations.

With regard to the strategic level, shifting the centers of gravity and opening multiple fronts is a traditional warfighting course of action in the Sahel. 

It is likely that AQIM Tuareg and Algerian commanders on the ground will 

try to open simultaneous fronts in the theater to counter any future Malian 

and ECOWAS military operations with the support of Western powers. In 

that respect, any action led by AQIM groups in countries neighboring Mali, 

especially in southern Algeria and northern Niger, will simply confirm the 

use of a classic Sahelian strategy. 

The lesson learned by T. E. Lawrence in the Negev Desert in the 1920s 

applies to today’s northern Mali and the Sahel area. Military operations led 

by conventional forces need to focus on the potential risk of “eating soup 

with a knife” at both tactical and strategic levels.

Third Small Wars Lesson: 

Military Action Is Not the Answer 

Lessons learned by David Galula in the 1960s also apply to Mali in 2013—

military operations cannot end the conflict. In that respect, understanding 

the powerful role of individual networks in Mali and in the region when 

building subtle political alliances and how these alliances are prone to 

overnight changes is paramount.

Unless current military operations bring about the total destruction of 

AQIM-armed katibas, the French and ECOWAS intervention under Chapter 

VII of the Charter of the United Nations12 will most likely result in increased 

indirect attacks led by AQIM against various strategic targets in the Sahel 

and beyond in Europe and in Africa. These terrorist attacks will aim to hit 

within the home countries of those states that participate or support the 

mission against AQIM in Mali.

In that context, the use of powerful individual networks to build subtle alliances—rather than relying on the military instrument—is crucial. Just 

as critical is the understanding of how these alliances are prone to quick 

changes. A key aspect of the cross networking in the Sahel should not be 

12 Refers to Chapter VII: Action with Respect to Threats to the Peace, Breaches of the Peace, and Acts of 

Aggression. See http://www.un.org/en/documents/charter/chapter7.shtml for the wording of the entire 

chapter.
Small Wars 79

overlooked; political and business networks play a primary role in the access to and the control of power.

In Mali, for example, a fluid social and political structure exists that is 

based on the fundamental role of three networks: family, ethnicity, and religion. The elite members of each of these groups collaborate. The deep 

and mutual contempt that often divides Bambara and Tuareg communities has never prevented politicians and businessmen from building trade 

networks and alliances meant to benefit from active commerce along the 

traditional Trans-Sahel trading routes. In 1813, these alliances were based 

on slave trade profits. In 2013, influential Bambaras in Bamako and Tuaregs 

in Gao continue to collaborate on a variety of financial opportunities from 

Trans-Sahel trading activities ranging from legal trading business to such 

illicit ventures as drugs, weapons, human trafficking, and money laundering. AQIM-armed groups use routes and caches that are known even within 

some of the elite networks13 in Bamako, Niamey, and Algiers since they 

have been the traditional trading routes in the Sahel for centuries.

Indeed, these elite networks have the ability to control political and economic decision-making processes and to shape the societies’ social fabric 

via the media. Far from being designed as stovepipes, these elite establishments are structured to rely on each other to collaborate or to compete in 

order to capture state revenues or to secure access to and control of the 

central power. While these elite groups compete with each other, they often 

use their Bambara or Tuareg networks and grassroots base to strengthen 

their power. When they collaborate to capture state revenues for their own 

benefit, they often disconnect themselves from their base and those segments of their network. 

The situation in Mali cannot be seen as a black-and-white problem. In 

fact, this connection between Bambara and Tuareg political and economic 

networks often helps close cultural and racial gaps between the north and 

the south, between Bamako and Gao. These alliances, however, are prone 

to subtle changes when financial interests and political agendas stand at 

cross purposes. The military junta led by General Amadou Sanogo and the 

elite networks support each other as long as they can work together to 

13 These elite networks or groups are often composed of government officials, private sector businessmen, charismatic figures of the civil society, and traditional and religious authorities. Their association 

is driven by a variety of motives ranging from personal ambition, family and clan lineage, religious 

ideology, and economic and political interests. 
80 The Crisis of the African State

access or control political power. The powerful influence of these Tuareg 

and Bambara networks reaches out to other foreign elite political networks, 

namely in Niger, Algeria, Burkina Faso, and Chad. 

Mali 2013: So What?

From a small wars perspective, the situation in Mali as of January 2013 can be 

analyzed through the following lenses. Assuming that French Marines and 

legionnaires are not going to “eat soup with a knife,” Operation Serval will 

not encounter fierce resistance from the AQIM-armed katibas in northern 

Mali. The bulk of these groups has fled the main strategic urban centers of 

Timbuktu, Gao, and Kidal. Many will likely hide in traditional locales spread 

across the low rocky mountainous area between Niger and Algeria; and 

no AQIM Toyota pickup will enter Bamako. France has paved the way to a 

faster deployment of the ECOWAS force and, as such, the French military 

intervention will be a tactical success, at least in the short term.

The long-term security problem in northern Mali, however, is far from 

being resolved. French President François Hollande may well call back the 

bulk of the French force as soon as the AFISMA force deploys. In the view 

of many military experts, West African forces are not familiar with the Sahel 

way of war. Chadian forces, who are not members of ECOWAS, are seen 

as the exception. The main criticism about the AFISMA mission is that its 

Sub-Saharan forces are not culturally fit to face Sahelian warfare. Therefore, 

keeping the AQIM katibas at bay, even with a training period in Bamako, will 

be a challenge unless the AFISMA benefits from persistent and direct Western logistics and combat support on the ground. Therefore, whether or not 

the political concept of a Sub-Saharan African force is credible to restore 

order and stability in a Sahel cultural environment remains to be assessed. 

Tactical military successes that aim to control the triangle of Timbuktu, 

Gao, and Kidal will not suffice to end the Malian political conflict. The use of 

local and regional political and economic networks will remain paramount 

to success. A formal negotiation process has already generated an intense 

regional mediation in Ouagadougou and Abidjan with the support of key 

Western powers acting under the umbrella of legitimacy provided by various UN and African Union resolutions.

Parallel to this process, significant progress must be made through the 

less formal, although more traditional, Sahelian individual networks from 

Bamako to Gao, Algiers, and Niamey. In light of the lessons learned from 
Small Wars 81

T. E. Lawrence and David Galula, a midterm objective to fix the security 

problem in northern Mali might well depend upon the ability of the political and military leadership of Bamako to make a political deal with the 

main Tuareg networks that are ready to be moved away from AQIM, as 

some did in summer 2012. More importantly, no midterm political solution will be set in Mali without the active commitment of Algeria. 
Chapter Four

From Rebels to Rulers:

Conflict and State Consolidation

in Comparative Perspective

by Ian S. Spears*

The outside world tends to treat developing states uniformly and not as 

inherently different from developed states in the West. In fact, Africa’s often extensive and diverse territories and populations present enormous 

challenges to political actors—recognized governments or rebel movements—seeking to consolidate power and authority. The typical response of 

most African regimes has been to rely on varying degrees of patronage and 

coercion to maintain their rule. These methods came under greater scrutiny 

during the early 1990s as states were compelled to respond to global pressures for reform. But political and economic liberalization did not always lead 

to the expected outcomes. In some cases, liberalizing reforms dramatically 

undermined existing patronage networks without leading to Western-style 

democracy and free markets.1 In the most unfortunate cases—the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Liberia, Sierra Leone, and Somalia—the results 

have been near or complete state failure or collapse.

In Ethiopia, Eritrea, and Rwanda, however, the current regimes have experienced relative success in consolidating their authority, and they have 

frequently done so with considerably less reliance on patronage or overt 

violence. Remarkably, in each of these cases, the regimes were former rebel 

movements representing minority interests in their respective states. Yet, 

the regimes in these countries have been in power since 1991, 1993, and 

1994, respectively.

How did these rebel movements acquire power? Once they achieved pow-

* Dr. Ian Spears is an associate professor for the Department of Political Science at the University of 

Guelph in Ontario, Canada, and a senior research associate for the Faculty of Humanities at the University of Johannesburg. 

1 See, for example, Catherine Boone, “Africa’s New Territorial Politics: Regionalism and the Open Economy in Côte d’Ivoire,” African Studies Review 50, no. 1 (April 2007): 59–81.

82
From Rebels to Rulers 83

er, how have they sustained their rule for so long? How have these regimes 

overcome their minority status and become the dominant political force in 

their respective countries? At what cost has this power been achieved? And 

how should the international community respond to their rule?

An examination of these three countries reveals that the regimes in Ethiopia, Eritrea, and Rwanda have relied on an approach to governance that 

evolved quite naturally from their strategies as rebels. In other words—and 

not surprisingly—there is an important continuity between their strategies 

as rebels and as rulers; practices employed by regimes are very much informed by their earlier success as rebel movements. More importantly, their 

success as rebels is contingent on their ability to respond to and resolve 

historical, ethnic, and demographic features and contradictions associated 

with their states.

While this claim is intuitive and perhaps even self-evident, its implications 

are frequently overlooked by reformers who regard intervention and democracy as the only acceptable approaches to conflict resolution and state 

consolidation. To be sure, democratic elections may be an important means 

for regimes to legitimize their rule. However, winning an election is not the 

same as ruling a country or projecting power across diverse territory, and 

recent elections in some states have done little to confer legitimacy on 

those purported to have won.2 The tendency of liberalization processes to 

become unstable or, in the worst cases, to break down into chaos has been 

evident in places such as Kenya, Congo, Sierra Leone, and Côte d’Ivoire. 

Democratic elections and other trappings of liberal reform are commonly 

associated with limitations on state power.3 Electoral outcomes may tell us 

more about relative ethnic population sizes and less about a party’s ability 

to project power. Rebels, on the other hand, prevail in their wars only if they 

have learned the hard lessons of accumulating power and managing the 

ethnic contradictions inherent to their states. Consequently, it is successful 

rebel movements rather than winners of elections who can more reliably 

project power and create more stable Weberian states.4

2 See, for example, Mvemba Phezo Dizolele and Pascal Kalume Kambale, “The DRC’s Crumbling Legitimacy,” Journal of Democracy 23, no. 3 (July 2012): 109–20. 3 Samuel P. Huntington, Political Order in Changing Societies (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 

2006), 7.

4 According to Max Weber, a state was a single entity capable of maintaining authority (a monopoly) over a territory by way of legitimate process. For more information, see http://www.princeton

.edu/~achaney/tmve/wiki100k/docs/Monopoly_on_the_legitimate_use_of_physical_force.htm.
84 The Crisis of the African State

It is not surprising then, that some recent evidence highlights the value 

of rebel victories in ending conflict and consolidating peace.5 If the international community is disinclined to reform state borders or to recognize 

alternative forms of political organization, it may have little choice but to 

see rebel movements rather than democratic elections as the most promising avenue for consolidating state authority in Africa. It is also unwise for 

the international community to unseat regimes they do not like, in Africa or 

elsewhere, if it means leaving behind rebels who are incapable of ruling 

their vast territories. After all, if a rebel movement cannot defeat an incumbent government on its own, it will not be able to rule in the aftermath of a 

defeat engineered by the international community.

The remainder of this chapter will examine the political evolutions of the 

Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF), the Eritrean People’s Liberation Front (EPLF), 

and the Tigrayan People’s Liberation Front (TPLF). In the following section, 

rebel movements will be considered collectively in terms of their commonalities. Next, the political and social origins of the three movements will be 

considered briefly, which will account for the ways they overcame the specific challenges in each of their states. In the final section of this chapter, 

the rule of these rebel movements-turned-governments will be assessed, 

and conclusions will be offered on how the international community should 

respond to rulers in these states.

Rebels to Rulers: Commonalities

A number of commonalities can be identified across these rebel movements. 

The first such commonality is that, by the time each had acquired power in 

their capital, the TPLF, the EPLF, and the RPF had become disciplined and 

battle-hardened survivors of African wars.6 In both Ethiopia and Eritrea, for 

example, the rebels endured and prevailed in fratricidal struggles against 

other local and like-minded liberation movements before defeating the incumbent regime in Addis Ababa, the capital of Ethiopia. In Rwanda, many 

of the cadres that accounted for the core of the RPF had previously fought 

and trained with the National Resistance Movement (NRM) in neighboring 

Uganda. Collectively, not only did these movements follow a particular 

strategy vis-à-vis their adversaries during their liberation struggles, but the 

5 Monica Duffy Toft, “Ending Civil Wars: A Case for Rebel Victory?,” International Security 34, no. 4 (Spring 

2010): 7–36.

6 Gérard Prunier, “The Rwandan Patriotic Front,” in African Guerrillas, ed. Christopher Clapham (Oxford: 

James Currey Ltd., 1998), 131.
From Rebels to Rulers 85

very process of surviving in this kind of unforgiving environment meant that 

they have since been much more likely to set demanding terms for inclusion in any subsequent government. In all cases, they have been intolerant 

of the efforts of others to share or acquire power; none of the movements 

have demonstrated a willingness to hand over power to organizations that 

had not participated in the struggle to liberate their respective countries. 

Their ruthless Darwinian births transformed these rebel movements into 

strong and deeply structured rulers.

Indeed, the second commonality concerns each movement’s instrumental use of democratic rhetoric. When out of power, all three movements 

justified their actions against incumbent governments in terms of their legitimate desire for rule of law, political pluralism, and respect for human 

rights. Their approach to democratic rule, however, now appears to have 

been calculated to secure sympathy or favoritism from abroad and open up 

their political system so that they could gain power for themselves. In the 

post-victory era, none of them have made good on their pledge to establish 

genuinely democratic rule, even if they have held some form of electoral process. In Eritrea, the government of Isaias Afewerki no longer pretends that 

democratic elections are imminent. In Ethiopia and Rwanda, elections have 

taken place but opposition parties have either been banned outright or had 

their activities severely constrained. Failure to achieve democratic objectives 

pledged during their respective liberation struggles has led to defections by 

disillusioned dissidents. The regimes, however, have remained intact.

Third, all three movements were the principal sources or initiators of 

violent conflict insofar as they rebelled violently against the incumbent governments. Yet, in all three cases, these movements succeeded in portraying 

their adversaries as brutal or genocidal regimes and themselves as disciplined and responsible saviors. In the case of Ethiopia, the TPLF challenged 

the hard-line Marxist regime known as the Dergue.7 Once in the Ethiopian 

capital of Addis Ababa, they delivered a welcomed political order that contrasted sharply with the chaos that ensued following Mohamed Siad Barre’s 

overthrow in January 1991 in neighboring Somalia. In Rwanda, in the face 

of the international community’s apparent dithering response to the 1994 

genocide against their Tutsi brethren, the RPF took the capital city Kigali. 

And in Eritrea, the EPLF played to the international community’s apparent 

7 Dergue (short for Coordinating Committee of the Armed Forces, Police, and Territorial Army) ruled 

Ethiopia from 1974 to 1987.
86 The Crisis of the African State

willingness to subject Eritreans to three decades of hardship at the hands 

of the Ethiopian government. In sum, since the rebels in all three cases were 

regarded by the international community as ending or preventing intolerable situations or as enduring unnecessarily unjust circumstances imposed 

by their incumbent governments, they were the beneficiaries of international sympathy. As governments, this has translated into an international 

willingness to overlook their failure to live up to democratic pledges.

Finally, all three movements based their strategies for post-victory governance on the particularities of their ethnic and regional demographics. It 

is here that differences between the respective movements become most 

apparent. Rebels who succeed in taking power and providing sustainable 

government are those who confront and overcome barriers presented by 

their ethnic structure—most notably their minority status—and incorporate 

this into their strategies. The remainder of the chapter will focus on elaborating these differences.

Rwanda and the Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF)

The origins of the RPF come from outside of Rwanda. During the European 

colonization of Africa, the Belgians relied on the minority Tutsi to facilitate 

their rule. In the last years before Rwanda’s independence in 1962, however, Belgian authorities shifted their allegiance to the majority Hutu.8 The 

transfer of power and subsequent decolonization precipitated violence that 

left thousands of Tutsi dead and sent many more into exile. These “59ers”—

so called for the year many of them departed—consisted of Tutsi who left 

Rwanda for the neighboring countries of Uganda, Zaire, Burundi, and Tanzania. In Rwanda, the Hutu elite assumed power and declared the newly 

independent country a democracy on the basis that, since the regime was 

Hutu, they represented the majority of the population.9 Those Tutsi who remained in Rwanda after independence were increasingly disenfranchised 

and marginalized. A military coup installed Juvénal Habyarimana in power 

in 1973, and the regime itself remained in the hands of the Hutu.

The RPF was established in 1987 from the previous Rwandese Alliance for 

National Unity (RANU). The rebels came from the descendants of those who 

had left Rwanda in 1959. Many of them had joined the National Resistance 

8 In Rwanda, Tutsi make up approximately 10–15 percent of the population; Hutu account for 85–90 

percent of the population; and Twa make up approximately 1 percent.

9 Prunier, “The Rwandan Patriotic Front,” 121.
From Rebels to Rulers 87

Movement (NRM) of Yoweri Museveni to escape persecution in Uganda under the previous Apolo Milton Obote and Idi Amin regimes. Once the NRM 

achieved power in Kampala in 1986, many Tutsi rose to become senior 

members of Uganda’s political elite. But the Tutsi presence also generated tension among Ugandans and NRM fighters. President Museveni was 

regarded by many of his countrymen as too accommodating of Tutsis who 

were increasingly claiming Uganda as their own.10 Despite their ability to 

achieve positions of status in Uganda and other exile countries, the Tutsi 

saw themselves effectively as stateless people in search of a homeland. 

The RPF’s invasion of Rwanda from Uganda in October 1990 helped relieve the tension directed toward the Tutsi population. It came at a time when 

the Rwandan regime was under increasing pressure to democratize and to 

get a bleak economic situation under control. Despite their confidence that 

they could replicate the NRM’s military success in Uganda, the RPF’s initial invasion of Rwanda did not go as planned. Their leader, Major General 

Fred Rwigyema, was killed on the second day of the invasion. Rwanda’s 

population—including many Tutsi—was more wary than sympathetic to their 

supposed liberators, who had been portrayed by the Habyarimana government as “foreigners.” When the RPF resumed its offensive, the approach 

was to bide its time and avoid direct engagement with government forces. 

As a consequence of government fearmongering, much of the population, 

including the Tutsi, vacated land before the advancing rebels.11

There was, of course, some basis to the claim that the RPF were outsiders 

and invaders. Based on the fact that its combatants were mere descendants

of refugees who had left the country 30 years earlier, most of those participating in the 1990 offensive had never previously been to Rwanda.12

Government propaganda demonizing the RPF meant the rebels would 

need to win the war without support from the local Tutsi population in 

whose name they claimed to be fighting. In fact, the RPF had little contact 

with the Rwandan civilian population. The government nonetheless saw 

the Tutsi population within Rwanda as potential fifth columnists in league 

with the RPF. Immediately after the 1990 invasion, the government began 

rounding up civilians it considered a threat to Hutu rule. “It was from that 

time on,” writes Gérard Prunier, “that the idea of the genocide (‘in the air’ 

10 Ibid., 126.

11 Ibid., 131.

12 Ibid., 119.
88 The Crisis of the African State

ever since the 1959 killings), progressively began to be considered as a 

‘rational’ political project.”13

In this context, it seemed logical for the RPF to portray itself as having 

common cause with the Tutsi in Rwanda. While the international community had been active in managing the peace process between the 1990 RPF 

invasion and the April 1994 commencement of the genocide, it was apparent that neither the UN nor any other substantial international force would 

intervene to stop the killing. “All those claiming to be civilized had turned 

their backs” on Rwanda, observed Paul Kagame, the leader of RPF forces. “I 

knew that we were alone. We would have to sort out the problem.”14

The key for the RPF was to reposition itself not as the invaders who had 

precipitated the war and subsequent genocide but as saviors—the only ones 

capable of bringing the genocide to an end. Kagame has not since missed 

an opportunity to claim “victim status” or that his movement’s mission was 

to end the killing of his people. But evidence suggests that the violence was 

perpetuated by the RPF to serve its own interests. Ironically, and much to 

the frustration of the UN Force Commander Roméo Dallaire,15 stopping the 

killing took longer than expected. Worse, the delay appeared calculated to 

strengthen the RPF position at the expense of civilian lives. Dallaire wondered why, for example, the RPF at one time appeared capable of taking 

Kigali within days, but was subsequently unwilling to advance on the capital.16 According to Dallaire, Kagame “did not speed up his campaign when 

the scale of the genocide became clear and even talked candidly with me 

at several points about the price his fellow Tutsis might have to pay for the 

cause.”17

Nor, despite their public rhetoric since the genocide, was it evident that 

the RPF wanted international forces to put a stop to the killing, because 

international intervention or a cease-fire would have prevented the RPF 

from consolidating power in the capital. A power-sharing government or 

any other arrangement that kept the incumbent regime in place also was 

not desirable. The RPF saw a potential UN or French intervention or the 

13 Ibid., 132.

14 L. R. Melvern, A People Betrayed: The Role of the West in Rwanda’s Genocide (London: Zed Books, 

2000), 189.

15 Dallaire took command of UN Assistance Mission for Rwanda (UNAMIR) in 1993.

16 LtGen Roméo Dallaire, Shake Hands with the Devil: The Failure of Humanity in Rwanda (Toronto: Random House, 2003), 306, 327.

17 Ibid., 515.
From Rebels to Rulers 89

fulfillment of the terms of the Arusha Accords18 as propping up the Hutu 

regime or preventing the RPF from taking the whole country.19 According 

to Dallaire, “Kagame wanted all of the country, not parts of it. I came to believe he didn’t want the situation to stabilize until he had won.”20 Because it 

was in position to win the war outright, the RPF wanted neither compromise 

nor intervention but victory. The RPF victory did, in fact, come in July 1994, 

when the rebels took Rwanda’s capital, Kigali.

The RPF has continued to consolidate its power since 1994. As the government of Rwanda, the front has been careful to manage the narrative of 

who the Tutsi are and what their relations are with other groups. Ethnicity 

and genocide, for example, are regarded as direct legacies of colonial rule 

that reinforced “racial” theories common to nineteenth-century Europe. Alternatively, the Tutsis’ role as agents of colonial power is downplayed as are 

social inequities that preceded colonial rule. The regime portrays precolonial Rwanda as integrated, harmonious, and peaceful.21 From 1962 to 1994, 

Rwandan governments are said to have “destroyed the identity and unity 

on which the Rwandan nation had been founded and exclusion became 

institutionalised.”22 Consequently, a new policy that focused on Rwandan 

unity was essential. 

The historical narrative of 1994 has also been revised to serve the RPF’s 

benefit. The international community is now said to have let Rwandans 

down by not intervening. France is portrayed as having conspired with the 

genocidaires by arming the Habyarimana regime in the years prior to 1994. 

Consequently, the RPF believes it can credibly claim that it has little to learn 

from the international community and does not need to be scolded for its 

failure to live up to Western standards of democracy and human rights.

18 For more information, see http://www2.gwu.edu/~nsarchiv/NSAEBB/NSAEBB469/.

19 Melvern, A People Betrayed, 189, 211. 20 Dallaire, Shake Hands with the Devil, 438. 21 According to the “Brief History” of Rwanda provided by the Rwandan embassy in Washington, DC, 

“While the relationship between the [Tutsi] king and the rest of the population was unequal and parasitic, the relationship between the ordinary Hutu, Tutsi, and Twa was one of mutual benefit mainly through 

the exchanges of their labour. The relationship between the ordinary people was symbiotic.” From this 

perspective, the tensions between Hutu and Tutsi began after independence when President Grégoire 

Kayibanda “institutionalised discrimination against Tutsi and periodically used massacres against this 

targeted population as a means of maintaining the status quo.” See the Rwandan embassy Web site at 

http://rwandaembassy.org/Home/index.php/about-rwanda/brief-history.

22 Rwandan President Paul Kagame, “The Challenges of Nation-Building in Africa: The Case of Rwanda” 

(speech, London, International Institute for Strategic Studies, 16 September 2010), 5, http://www.iiss

.org/en/events/events/archive/2010-c61c/september-cbd6/oppenheimer-lecture-paul-kagame-5c09.
90 The Crisis of the African State

The RPF’s position in Rwanda has been strengthened by its domestic and 

foreign policy. The RPF sought to demonstrate its national, as opposed to 

ethnic, orientation by naming a Hutu as president immediately after it assumed power. While current President Paul Kagame is a Tutsi, the regime 

has been inclusive of a significant number of women, and it has engaged 

in responsible technocratic government.23 As a result of its pragmatic approach to development, Rwanda has also been lauded as a “donor darling” 

that has secured the admiration of the aid community. On the other hand, 

critics accuse the government of exploiting a “genocide credit” by manipulating the international community’s sense of guilt over the genocide and 

ignoring human rights transgressions.

Critics also point to disillusionment among RPF cadres and nonpolitical 

Hutu. War crimes committed by RPF soldiers who pursued former genocidaires into the neighboring Democratic Republic of Congo have not been 

adequately (or at least publicly) investigated.24 And there is decreasing confidence, even among Tutsi (let alone Hutu) in Rwanda, that the RPF has had 

their safety and security at heart. According to Filip Reyntjens, in the 10 

years following the genocide, there were ongoing tensions between Tutsi 

returning from exile and genocide survivors. The latter, Reyntjens argues, 

“felt . . . that they were becoming second-rate citizens who had been sacrificed by the RPF, which was suspected of having been interested in military 

victory rather than in saving them.”25

Another controversial RPF policy initiative, however, has been the regime’s commitment to ending “divisionism” and “fighting the ideology of 

genocide and all its manifestations.”26 Rwandan laws against “divisionism” 

sanction such acts as “propounding wickedness,” “marginalizing,” “laughing at one’s misfortune,” “mocking,” “boasting,” “despising,” and “stirring 

up ill feelings.”27 The policy on sectarianism is defensible insofar as it ef23 After entering Rwanda’s capital, the RPF claimed it would abide by the terms of the 1993 Arusha Accords, excluding members of the former regime. For a historic definition of “technocratic” government, 

see http://www.economist.com/node/21538698.

24 A 600-page investigation into possible Rwandan war crimes in the Congo was written by the Office of 

the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights and leaked to the public in 2010. The Rwandan government denounced the report as “amateurish” and “outrageous,” and pressed the UN not to 

publish the document. 

25 Filip Reyntjens, “Rwanda, Ten Years On: From Genocide to Dictatorship,” African Affairs 103, no. 411 

(2004): 180–81.

26 Constitution of the Republic of Rwanda, 2003, preamble.

27 Amnesty International, Safer to Stay Silent: The Chilling Effect of Rwanda’s Laws on “Genocide Ideology” and “Sectarianism” (London: Amnesty International Publications, 2010), 14.
From Rebels to Rulers 91

fectively bans any resort to mobilizing ethnic identity to achieve political 

objectives. The government has claimed that, because ethnicity is a constructed and learned phenomenon, it can also be done away with and 

forgotten. Critics maintain, however, that it is a cynical effort to obscure 

the fact that the minority Tutsi remain in power. Ethnicity may be effectively 

banned, but Rwandans are well aware that the current leadership is predominantly Tutsi. 

The larger consequence of the legislation on divisionism is that it has been 

used to silence its critics and emasculate or eliminate opposition parties. As 

one Rwandan human rights advocate explains, “Genocide ideology is a form 

of intimidation. If you dare to criticize what is not going well, it’s genocide 

ideology. Civil society and the population prefer to shut up.”28 Politically, the 

effect of the policy has been to dramatically reduce the field of opposition 

parties challenging RPF rule. For party leaders to acknowledge their oppositional role is to risk government accusations that the intention is to destroy 

Rwandan unity and divide the nation again. In the lead-up to Rwanda’s 2010 

elections, the government arrested several opposition party leaders and accused them of sectarianism. As Amnesty International reported, 

The timing of these accusations . . . and the manner in which they were 

brought strongly suggests a political motivation. The broad nature of 

“genocide ideology” and “divisionism” laws facilitate this by allowing 

prosecutions that focus on perceptions of a speaker’s alleged underlying 

philosophy, rather than an analysis of whether speech constitutes advocacy of hatred that amounts to violence, discrimination, or hostility.29

In sum, while the RPF has brought peace and stability to Rwanda since 

1994, it has done so at a high cost in terms of human rights and democracy. 

Eritrea and the Eritrean People’s

Liberation Front (EPLF)

Despite the fact that Ethiopia was never colonized by European powers, its 

northern-most region of Eritrea was a colonial creation. Until 1993, Eritrea 

had no separate existence apart from its status as a territory ruled by Italy 

from 1896 to 1941. Following the Ethiopian victory at Adwa in 1896, Italian 

forces retreated north to Eritrea’s present borders where they established 

28 Ibid., 22.

29 Ibid.
92 The Crisis of the African State

a colony. In 1948, the UN attempted to resolve Eritrea’s status by way of a 

consultative international commission. 

As short and limited as it was, the legacy of Italian rule in the region was 

profound. Italian colonization brought together nine ethnic groups—Afar, 

Tigrinya, Kunama, Tigre, Saho, Bilen, Nara, Beja, and Rashaida—and integrated Christians from the Eritrean highlands with Muslims from its lowlands. 

The colony’s southern border also divided the region’s Tigrinya-speaking 

people. Unlike other regions in Africa, colonial rule is nonetheless regarded 

in positive terms by Eritreans because it set the region on a more advanced 

development trajectory than the rest of Ethiopia. “We look at colonialism 

more favorably than other peoples in Africa and Asia,” observed Yemane 

Ghebreab, the political affairs officer for Eritrea’s ruling party.30 While people 

in other African countries regard colonialism as the source of its developmental troubles, for Eritreans, it is their country’s raison d’être.

Because colonial Eritrea served as a staging point for another Italian invasion of Ethiopia in 1935, Ethiopia’s emperor, Haile Selassie I, regarded the 

territory as a potential security risk. And indeed, there was a significant Eritrean constituency in favor of union with Ethiopia when the UN took up the 

issue of the colony’s status in 1949. In the end, the UN joined Ethiopia and 

Eritrea in a federal arrangement in 1952. Ten years later, and much to the 

chagrin of an emerging core of Eritrean nationalists, the emperor dissolved 

the agreement and reduced the territory to one of Ethiopia’s 14 provinces. 

Protests from Eritrean nationalists went unheeded, in large part, because of 

the emperor’s lobbying of the international community. Technically, the abrogation of the federal arrangement was a violation of the UN resolution 

that had created the federation. But once the UN had divested itself of responsibility for the protection of Eritrean autonomy, the issue became an 

internal matter, at least in the eyes of the Ethiopian regime. The failure of the 

federation agreement to protect Eritrean interests—and of the international 

community to ensure the federation was sustained—would serve as the basis 

for Eritrean skepticism about future arrangements short of independence.31

The Eritrean struggle for independence was led initially by the Eritrean 

Liberation Front (ELF), which was formed in 1962. At this time, there were 

30 Cited in Robert D. Kaplan, Surrender or Starve: Travels in Ethiopia, Sudan, Somalia, and Eritrea (New 

York: Vintage Books, 2003), 202.

31 For more on these events and the UN’s involvement in Eritrean autonomy, see http://www.shabait.com

/about-eritrea/history-a-culture/1300-the-390-resolution-of-the-united-nations-assembly.
From Rebels to Rulers 93

few indications that the rebels could prevail against well-armed government forces. In the 1960s and 1970s, the ELF was undermined by internal 

disputes, insufficient resources, and suspicions that the movement spoke 

only for Eritrea’s Muslim population. A secessionist strategy was also difficult to sell to an international community that preferred to maintain the 

status quo on the issue of African borders. In the 1970s, even socialist countries sympathetic to Eritreans as an “oppressed nation” were reluctant to 

support a movement fighting against the Marxist government in place in 

Addis Ababa since 1974. 

In theory, the practical problem of extending state authority was less 

onerous in a smaller secessionist state. As it was, the Eritrean rebels had 

enough trouble forcing a common front across its own ethnically and religiously diverse landscape. The tendency of the various liberation fronts 

and internal factions to fight each other undoubtedly served the interests 

of the central government in Addis Ababa. Overcoming Eritrea’s ethnic 

and religious diversity required forging a common consensus by way of 

a renewed emphasis on the Eritrean identity and the anticolonial nature 

of the struggle. For the EPLF, the movement that eventually led Eritrea to 

independence and that has since been its sole governing party, the project 

required maintaining strict discipline and intolerance of political dissent, rewriting the national narrative, and exploiting the collective identity created 

by central government oppression. On its own, achieving this consensus 

was not enough to bring about Eritrea’s independence, which came about 

following the collapse of the Dergue. It is likely, however, that Eritrea’s era 

of independence would have been far more chaotic had this consensus not 

been achieved.

To improve the chances that a future declaration of independence would 

be recognized, the language of anticolonialism was embraced over that 

of secessionism or separatism.32 As the Eritrean liberation movement advanced on the battlefield, it sought to establish certain facts on the ground. 

According to Osman Saleh Sabbe, the leader of one of the Eritrean factions, 

“If we were to achieve independence by force, the United Nations would accept a fait accompli. . . . Only military victory could induce both [the UN] and 

the OAU [Organization of African Unity] to recognize our existence.”33 The 

32 See EPLF’s Hagos Ghebrehiwet, “Eritrea’s Freedom Fighters,” Letters, Wall Street Journal, 25 April 1986. 33 “Sabi Views Status of Eritrean Liberation Struggle,” Foreign Broadcast Information Service Daily Report, 

18 March 1977, B3.
94 The Crisis of the African State

EPLF, thus, criticized its rivals for the “ridiculous belief” that, without concrete 

development or credible plans, “the shooting of a few rounds of ammunition would draw the attention of the UN which would then ‘grant’ Eritrea 

its independence.”34 The EPLF created structures and institutions that made 

Eritrea a virtual state within a state. This meant taking over foreign-owned 

plantations and operating them as state farms. Under the slogan “Destroy 

the enemy with his own guns and bullets,” the EPLF captured virtually all of 

its military equipment from government troops and serviced them in its own 

underground workshops.35 Finally, it developed its own cadre of physicians 

and paramedics, operated its own hospitals in the field, and supplied its 

own pharmaceuticals to treat its wounded. Self-reliance and self-discipline 

were the watchwords of the struggle.

Finding unity among Eritrea’s diverse people, however, was Eritrea’s greatest challenge. If Eritrea was to gain its independence from Ethiopia, it needed 

to do so not on the basis of one of nine ethnic groups but under a single 

coherent identity. During the 1970s, tensions between ethnic and religious 

factions accounted for two civil wars between the EPLF and the ELF. The EPLF 

did not deny Eritrea’s ethnic and religious diversity but instead paid it respect 

through an intensive education process that sought to emphasize diversity 

and unity. As David Pool writes, “The EPLF leadership deliberately shaped 

the Front on the basis of their conception of the causes of past nationalist failures. Central to this approach was the program of political education which 

all Front members underwent during their compulsory six-month training 

period.”36 To divert attention from the predominantly Christian nature of the 

leadership, the EPLF focused on the secular and nationwide character of its 

struggle. It followed a Marxist approach to a liberation war that transcended 

the ethnic and religious cleavages. And it revised the Eritrean historical narrative to keep the attention on national unity.37

Some of this work on the national unity front was done for them by the 

crude brutality of the central government in Addis Ababa. By the end of 

34 See “Self-Reliance . . . Only Way to Victory,” Review of African Political Economy no. 10 (September–

December 1977): 108–14.

35 Ibid., 110.

36 David Pool, From Guerrillas to Government: The Eritrean People’s Liberation Front (Athens: Ohio University Press, 2001), 20.

37 Christopher Clapham, “War and State Formation in Ethiopia and Eritrea” (paper, Le Guerre Entre 

le Local et le Global Centre d’Etudes et de Recherches Internationales Colloquium, Paris, 29–30 May 

2000), 9–10.
From Rebels to Rulers 95

the 1980s, Eritreans had endured nearly 30 years of aerial bombardment 

by government forces. Eritreans were determined that their future could 

no longer be in a united Ethiopia. The indiscriminate manner in which 

the war was being fought by the Dergue meant that few Eritreans were 

not uprooted, wounded, or affected in some way. Out of a population of 

approximately 2.3 million, an estimated 200,000 were killed and 70,000 

were injured or suffered permanent disability. That this national tragedy, in 

combination with political education, also served the interests of national 

identity formation cannot be doubted.38

Not surprisingly, when the war with Ethiopia ended, the EPLF showed 

no interest in supplanting the regime that it had just helped defeat at such 

great cost. In the referendum that formally confirmed Eritrea’s intention to 

secede from Ethiopia, the option in favor of political independence was 

supported by 99.8 percent of the population. The EPLF’s political education 

translated into an uncommonly strong sense of national identity. According to a study of attitudes toward national and ethnic identity, virtually 100 

percent of the Eritrean population indicated that they were proud of being 

Eritrean. Eritrea remains an African country where a broader Eritrean pride 

supersedes ethnic pride. When asked to describe themselves on a spectrum of national and ethnic identity, most Eritreans (69.5 percent) defined 

themselves more by their national identity (“Eritrean” or “more Eritrean”) 

than by their ethnic affiliation (7.1 percent).39

Ethiopia and the Tigrayan People’s

Liberation Front (TPLF)

Ethiopia’s northern Tigrayan population had, along with the Amhara,40

served among Ethiopia’s ruling class. Its last Tigrayan emperor, Yohannes 

IV, ruled Ethiopia from 1872 to 1889. Since then, Tigrayans regarded their 

own province as unjustly impoverished but prided themselves as having 

a history of rebellion. The Ethiopian Revolution of 1974 had promised to 

bring economic and social justice to Ethiopia’s beleaguered peoples, but 

the new regime instead distinguished itself with brutality that surpassed 

its predecessor. To remedy their dire circumstances, Tigrayan nationalists 

38 Eric Garcetti and Janet Gruber, “The Post-War Nation: Rethinking the Triple Transition in Eritrea,” in 

Regeneration of War-Torn Societies: Global Issues, ed. Michael Pugh (New York: St. Martin’s, 2000), 221. 39 Ibid., 224.

40 From the Ethiopian central highlands, the Amhara are one of the two largest ethnolinguistic groups 

and account for one-third of the population.
96 The Crisis of the African State

initially, like the Eritrean liberation movements, pursued a secessionist 

agenda. The manifesto of the TPLF declared that its first task would be “the 

establishment of an independent republic of Tigray.”41 Thereafter, however, TPLF statements made secession conditional on the nature of the 

regime in Addis Ababa. An “independent and democratic state of Tigray” 

was the only acceptable outcome according to Ghidey Zeratsion, a TPLF 

official speaking in 1981, “if the existing oppressive conditions” in Ethiopia continued or were made worse. On the other hand, if a “democratic 

political atmosphere” was established in Ethiopia, Tigray could become a 

“voluntarily integrated nation with relations based on equality, democracy, 

and mutual advantage.”42 The decision was said to belong to the Tigrayan 

people.

In the earliest days of its struggle, Tigrayans suffered from a lack of resources and from interfactional conflict. Its membership included primarily 

urban students who were unfamiliar with the logistical demands of insurgency. Like the EPLF, however, it accumulated power as it defeated rival 

liberation fronts. Before it could challenge the Dergue, the TPLF made itself 

the dominant and exclusive liberation front in the province. For most of the 

late 1970s and early 1980s, that task required violently eliminating a number of other Tigrayan-based, or Marxist, movements. In what proved to be 

a perilous birthing, the TPLF became the region’s most powerful liberation 

front after the EPLF.43

Once it had removed government forces from the northern province, it 

faced new challenges. The problem was not rooted in its military strength 

but in its minority status and geographic isolation within Ethiopia. The TPLF 

leadership did not believe that its security was assured as long as the Dergue remained in place. But as a minority population in an isolated province, 

venturing outside of Tigray presented its own difficulties. The challenge, 

then, was to find a way for a minority group to secure power outside its 

province. Since the TPLF had determined that Tigray’s economic plight was 

linked to domination by their ethnic rivals, overthrowing the existing gov41 The manifesto of the TPLF is cited in Aregawi Berhe, “Ethiopia: Success Story or State of Chaos,” in, 

Postmodern Insurgencies: Political Violence, Identity Formation and Peacemaking in Comparative Perspective, ed. Ronaldo Munck and Purnaka L. de Silva (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2000), 123fn6. 42 Colin Legum, ed., Africa Contemporary Record: Annual Survey and Documents, 1980–81, vol. 13 (Teaneck, NJ: Holmes & Meier Publishers, 1982), B175.

43 On the Tigrayan struggle, see John Young, Peasant Revolution in Ethiopia: The Tigray People’s Liberation Front, 1975–1991 (Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 1997).
From Rebels to Rulers 97

ernment and installing yet another non-Tigrayan regime was unacceptable. 

The only way for Tigrayan objectives to be achieved was to encourage a 

broader mobilization on the basis of nationally based movements. 

The solution was to diversify their membership by forging alliances with 

like-minded representatives from Ethiopia’s other ethnic groups and to 

include them in a new Tigrayan-led umbrella movement. The TPLF insisted that it be regarded as the sole representative of the Tigrayan people, 

but encouraged the formation of other liberation movements to represent 

Ethiopia’s other nationalities. The offer was appealing because political 

independence was already an explicit element of the rhetoric of incipient liberation movements in other provinces. The TPLF drew upon the 

same logic that it applied to itself: all of Ethiopia’s national groups had the 

right to self-determination. If the nature of the political center could be 

changed and previously marginalized national groups could be granted 

cultural freedom and autonomy, a unified Ethiopia was still possible. If the 

autonomy of national groups could not be respected, they would be free 

to leave.

In theory, the end result would not be a Tigrayan-dominated state but 

a democratic one, where power would be shared and national groups 

could determine their destiny. A constitutional right to self-determination 

not only attracted other disaffected groups to the TPLF cause but it also 

provided an “escape hatch” in the event that the future Ethiopian state did 

not live up to the promise. For the TPLF, the program provided a means to 

break out of its province and challenge the Dergue, the principal threat to 

Tigrayan autonomy.

The creation of nationally based groups, which then allied themselves 

with the TPLF, was a way to overcome one of the principal problems identified by conflict resolution specialists—that the strength and breadth of 

an insurgent movement in a divided state is restricted by their inability to 

extend their cause beyond their own national group. Following its third 

congress in March 1989, the TPLF announced the creation of the Ethiopian 

People’s Revolutionary Democratic Front (EPRDF), an organization that the 

TPLF would lead but it included other nationally based People’s Democratic Organizations (PDOs). These PDOs were initially organized by the TPLF 

and led by captured army officers and soldiers who represented those 

groups. The TPLF pledged to share power because, as stated in one EPRDF 

statement, “it would have been ridiculous for one organization, operating in 
98 The Crisis of the African State

only one part of the country, to have formed a government.”44 While not yet 

in power in Addis Ababa, the TPLF had found a way to extend its authority 

beyond its provincial borders. 

The Marxist government of Mengistu Haile Mariam was overthrown by 

EPRDF forces in May 1991. Soon after, the EPLF declared independence for 

Eritrea, and the EPRDF, led by its chairman Meles Zenawi, began its reform 

of Ethiopia’s political system. A new constitution, ratified in 1994, established Ethiopia as a federal system of nine ethnically based states and two 

federally administered city-states.45 In this way, the EPRDF hoped to deflect 

disaffection with the central government and to direct political competition 

toward Ethiopia’s national homelands. 

The EPRDF movement was welcomed by those who believed that democracy had finally arrived in Ethiopia and that a multicultural federation based 

on ethno-national representation was the only way forward for one of Africa’s oldest and most important countries. But what the regime claimed to 

be recognition of peoples’ right to self-determination was, for critics, a Trojan horse that advanced TPLF domination. From this perspective, Ethiopia’s 

ethnic enclaves merely divided potential opposition and left the political 

center exclusively for the TPLF who continued to form the leadership of 

the state.46 While the constitution established that all powers not attributed 

to the federal government were to be left to the regional states, the latter 

remained relatively weak. Much to the frustration of the EPRDF’s critics, Ethiopian opposition groups remained profoundly disorganized and divided 

throughout the 1990s. The imbalance between the EPRDF and the opposition, wrote Terrence Lyons, “encouraged many parties—particularly those 

unprepared or ambivalent about participation—to seek to discredit rather 

than strengthen the electoral process.”47 Lyons concluded, “By remaining 

out of the elections . . . the leaders of the opposition played a central part 

in the consolidation of the EPRDF’s control . . . ”48 Indeed, the first major 

electoral threat to the EPRDF did not come until 2005 when opposition par44 Cited in Sarah Vaughan, The Addis Ababa Transitional Conference of July 1991: Its Origins, History and 

Significance, Occasional Papers No. 51 (Scotland: Centre of African Studies, Edinburgh University, 1994), 31. 45 These include: Afar; Amhara; Benishangul-Gumaz; Gambela; Oromiya; Somali; Southern Nations, 

Nationalities and People’s State; Tigray; the Addis Ababa federal capital district; and Harar.

46 See, for example, Makau Mutua, “The Regionalization Controversy,” Africa Report 38, no. 5 (September–October 1993), 31. 

47 Terrence Lyons, “Closing the Transition: The May 1995 Elections in Ethiopia,” Journal of Modern African Studies 34, no. 1 (1996). 48 Ibid., 139.
From Rebels to Rulers 99

ties threatened to win Addis Ababa’s city council—only for the opposition to 

withdraw in protest of alleged election irregularities.

Even the departure of Eritrea was regarded by some commentators as 

part of the TPLF strategy to consolidate its power.49 While EPRDF leaders 

claimed that it was merely honoring a pledge to respect the outcome of 

a referendum on independence, the “loss” of Eritrea relieved Ethiopia of 

what was undoubtedly its most debilitating burden. Referring to the EPLF’s 

formidable military strength, Prime Minister Meles defended the decision to 

allow secession on the basis that even the well-equipped Dergue had failed 

to defeat the Eritreans. He cautioned that Ethiopia could no longer afford 

such “needless fighting.”50 Moreover, given the damage that Eritrea endured 

during its 30-year struggle, an independent Eritrea allowed a still-fragile 

Ethiopia to avoid costly reparations while the EPRDF consolidated its rule.

Critics claim further that the country’s ethnic federalism has failed to prevent ethnic or national conflicts within its regional states; it has, however, 

mitigated challenges to EPRDF and, more specifically, TPLF rule.51 Questions of whether this is good for the country as a whole or whether there 

were realistic alternatives to ethnic federalism are matters of perspective. 

For those who looked to political accommodations short of state breakup, “a commitment to national self-determination and the establishment 

of regional governments based on nationality . . . ensured the survival of 

the Ethiopian state.”52 Indeed, resorting to an arrangement that formally 

recognized Ethiopia’s ethnic composition was, for some, inevitable. While 

multiethnic parties have been influential in Ethiopian politics, they have 

also repeatedly broken down under the strain of political uncertainty, and 

their defectors have frequently denounced their existence in favor of ethnically based organizations. For the foreseeable future, ethnically based 

parties—and ethnically autonomous states—are likely to dominate Ethiopia’s political landscape.53

49 Paul B. Henze, Eritrea’s War: Confrontation, International Response, Outcome, Prospects (Addis Ababa, 

Ethiopia: Shama Books, 2002), 23, 218. This rhetoric changed, of course, during the 1998–2000 border war. 

50 “Eritrea Votes to Become Africa’s Newest Nation,” Africa Report 38, no. 3 (May–June 1993): 8. 51 See, for example, Ethiopia: Ethnic Federalism and Its Discontents, Africa Report no. 153 (International 

Crisis Group, 4 September 2009).

52 Assefa Fiseha, “Theory versus Practice in the Implementation of Ethiopia’s Ethnic Federalism,” in Ethnic Federalism: The Ethiopian Experience in Comparative Perspective, ed. David Turton (Athens: Ohio 

University Press, 2006), 135.

53 Merera Gudina, “Contradictory Interpretations of Ethiopian History: The Need for New Consensus,” 

in Ethnic Federalism, 126–27.
100 The Crisis of the African State

Assessing the Rule of Rebel 

Movements-Turned-Governments

It is important to note that none of the movements under consideration here 

was “born strong.” On the contrary, they all emerged under difficult circumstances and, incrementally and against all odds, accumulated power sufficient 

to challenge and defeat rival liberation movements or the state itself. While 

the RPF cadres were beneficiaries of arms and training from Uganda, the 

movement’s first venture into Rwanda was a military disaster resulting in the 

death of key personnel. The end result was a new leadership and a reconsideration of military tactics. In the case of Eritrea, the EPLF emerged only after 

prevailing in a protracted and extraordinarily violent civil war against other 

Eritrean-based movements. In Tigray, the TPLF emerged only after having 

defeated three rival Tigrayan-based movements and then devised a program and means to join forces with other like-minded nationalist movements 

outside of their province. In the last two cases, the accumulation of power 

meant defeating rivals who threatened their domination.

Adherence to the strictest discipline was a noted characteristic for each 

of the three movements. In the Darwinesque landscape of Africa’s civil wars, 

a lack of discipline was punishable by elimination. As rulers, their success 

was contingent on the projection of this internal discipline and organization outward onto society so that the problem of social fragmentation was 

managed or, preferably, not reproduced in destructive ways. Not surprisingly, the need to maintain such rigid internal coherence has provoked 

dissension among those, including its own members and foreign advocates, who had hoped that winning the war would lead to greater freedoms 

and democracy. International organizations also have highlighted questionable human rights practices and concerns for the well-being of those 

who have fallen out with these regimes. For the time being, however, these 

rebels-cum-rulers have also produced sustained, and sometimes decent, 

technocratic governance and internal order that other postconflict zones in 

Liberia, Sierra Leone, and the Democratic Republic of Congo have lacked.

But success was not merely contingent on each movement accumulating power, maintaining discipline, or providing technocratic governance. It 

was also essential that each movement resolve the contradictions of their 

existence and develop a program that could sustain their position as rulers. 

Each of the three movements discussed here had purposeful agendas be-
From Rebels to Rulers 101

yond the accumulation of personal wealth or resources. These movements 

thrived on order over disorder and their political agendas, accordingly, 

focused on state consolidation. For the RPF, who came from outside of Rwanda, success was contingent on addressing their status as a foreign-based 

minority. Their solution was to put out a fire they had ignited by way of their 

own invasion. The RPF then devised a program that obscured both their 

foreign origins and their minority status, and focused instead on the idea of 

a common Rwandan identity. For the EPLF, their secessionist strategy meant 

that they had to build a common and inclusive identity within a multiethnic 

Eritrea that it could lead out of the Ethiopian state. For the Tigrayans, who 

already formed a majority within their province, their strategy was the opposite: defeating the Dergue required them to recognize and join forces 

with other nationalities and then assure them that their interests would be 

safeguarded in a liberated and explicitly multinational Ethiopia.

It is also notable, however, that there was a subtle distinction between 

the agendas of the respective parties and those in whose name the movements claimed to be fighting. Despite the benevolent tone struck in their 

public statements, each of these movements were singularly and profoundly 

self-interested. As Filip Reyntjens has argued regarding Rwanda, while the 

RPF seeks to perpetuate the perception that it was, like all Tutsi, a victim of 

the genocide, the regime has in fact been concerned with its own narrower 

interests of consolidating power in Kigali. Yet, it has not hesitated to appropriate the victimhood experienced by Rwandan Tutsis and extend it to itself.54

Similarly, in Ethiopia, the TPLF proved to be accommodating of those 

nationalities willing to accept the strict terms of EPRDF rule. It has, however, 

been less accommodating of opposition parties who have maintained their 

independence.55 Finally, in Eritrea, the government made early assertions 

that its rule would be democratic, but has since banned opposition parties 

and criticism of the regime and paid little heed to rights that were ostensibly protected by its 1997 constitution. According to Amnesty International, 

thousands of political prisoners remain in detention.56

54 Reyntjens, “Rwanda, Ten Years On,” fn77.

55 Mark R. Duffield, Liberation Politics and External Engagement in Ethiopia and Eritrea, Horn of Africa Discussion Paper Series No. 8, contrib. John Prendergast (Washington, DC: Center for Concern, April 1995), 10–11.

56 Amnesty International, “Eritrea,” Annual Report, 2009, http://www.amnesty.org/en/region/eritrea

/report-2009. For an extensive report on the conditions inside Eritrea, see Kjetil Tronvoll, The Lasting 

Struggle for Freedom in Eritrea: Human Rights and Political Development, 1991–2009 (Minneapolis, MN: 

Oslo Center for Peace and Human Rights, 2009).
102 The Crisis of the African State

The rebel movements in Rwanda, Eritrea, and Ethiopia have survived by 

appropriating and resolving their country’s most immediate security problems. But in solving these problems, these movements invariably privileged 

their own interests above all others. In each case, the interests of the rebel 

movement were aligned and conflated with the interests of the larger state. 

More importantly, each movement, as the author of its program, regarded 

itself as indispensable to its fulfillment and the guardian of its legacy. Consequently, not only have the RPF, the TPLF/EPRDF, and the EPLF regarded 

subsequent challengers to their rule as unworthy, but these issues are said 

to undermine the goals that citizens of their state were alleged to have prioritized. In short, an attack on the movement or the program became an 

attack on the state itself. This has become a powerful self-justification for 

each movement to reproduce itself by continuing its rule and further consolidating its power. 

This approach to politics presents problems for the future. The collapse 

of any of these parties or movements would likely have serious repercussions in terms of internal stability. Alternatively, given the way in which 

these movements have become so deeply ensconced and their interests 

so intertwined with the state, their removal would likely involve an equally 

formidable rebel movement.

In this respect, the ways and practices of these regimes are indeed 

lamentable, and international pressure should continue to be applied to 

encourage these states to respect conventions on human rights and freedom of expression. But it would be a mistake to assume that, because they 

fall short of Western-style democratic rule, they are uniformly unpopular.57

These regimes have sustained themselves and their states—and avoided 

the chaos of other conflict environments—because the systems they have 

created serve their own interests. They have taken ownership of a political 

system in a manner that cannot happen in otherwise weakly institutionalized states or in countries in which belligerents and other societal actors are 

required to share power. Indeed, the international community should also 

recognize that its own approach to conflict resolution and state building 

has often been wanting. Important trade-offs may need to be considered 

between order and democratic rule. The imposition of a relatively uniform 

formula of elections and constitutional restraints is of questionable value in 

57 This assessment is made on the basis of formal and informal discussions with citizens in each of these 

countries, beginning in 1996.
From Rebels to Rulers 103

the absence of some other strong organizational or institutional structures 

that these fronts have provided. 

Finally, there is also value in the concept of “autonomous recovery,” 

whereby local players are left to solve their own problems—sometimes with 

impressive success.58 Implicit in this concept is a criticism of the view that 

only Westerners can solve developing world problems or that only outsiders can rebuild viable states. Successful rebel movements may dominate 

the postconflict environment, but the shrewdest political leadership surely 

recognizes that, at some point, their survival depends on negotiating new 

and more inclusive political arrangements. Those arrangements may offer 

the best hope for the creation of viable states in the future.

58 Jeremy M. Weinstein, Autonomous Recovery and International Intervention in Comparative Perspective, Working Paper Number 57 (Washington, DC: Center for Global Development, April 2005), 

http://www.cgdev.org/publication/autonomous-recovery-and-international-intervention-comparative

-perspective-working-paper.
Chapter Five

After the Genocide

by Robert E. Gribbin*

This chapter focuses on Rwanda in the five years after the genocide. During 

that time, the new government concentrated on internal security, the resumption of government activities, the return and reintegration of refugees, 

domestic politics, and the delivery of justice. Rwanda was also involved in 

conflict in neighboring Congo. Although mention will be made of developments that have occurred since 2000, the thrust of the discussion here is to 

elucidate on the immediate postconflict era.

Rwanda’s genocide had run its course by July 1994. On 4 July, the largely 

Tutsi Rwandan Patriotic Army (RPA) coming from the east and south took 

control of the capital of Kigali. By 17 July, RPA troops had pushed westward 

to Lake Kivu and north to the Zairian (now Congo) border, effectively emptying those areas of ex-FAR/Interahamwe (“those who stand together,” the 

former Armed Forces of Rwanda) genocidaire forces.1 To the southwest of 

Kigali between Butare and Cyangugu, RPA forces came face-to-face with 

French peacekeepers from Operation Turquoise.2 Leaders on both sides 

quickly negotiated a separation of forces agreement.3 Meanwhile the last 

remnants of the genocidaire power structure evacuated from the southwest 

across to Zaire. 

By late July, the violence had largely ended. About a million people—mostly Tutsi—were dead, victims of the genocide.4 A half million or so displaced 

persons—mostly Hutu—had congregated into camps, primarily in the south-

* Robert E. Gribbin was the U.S. ambassador to Rwanda from 1996 to 1999. He is the author of a memoir 

entitled In the Aftermath of Genocide: The U.S. Role in Rwanda (2005), a book that expands considerably 

on the themes treated in this chapter. 

1 Militia groups created to conduct the genocide.

2 Operation Turquoise was the UN-backed mission to insert neutral French-led forces into Rwanda to 

establish a safe zone and protect the population regardless of ethnicity, religion, or background.

3 Gérard Prunier, “Opération Turquoise: A Humanitarian Escape from a Political Dead End,” in The Path 

of a Genocide: The Rwanda Crisis from Uganda to Zaire, ed. Howard Adelman and Astri Suhrke (New 

Brunswick, NJ: Transaction Publishers, 2000), 291–94.

4 Q. K. J. Masire, chairman, Organisation of African Unity, “Rwanda: The Preventable Genocide” (report 

of International Panel of Eminent Personalities, 2000), 128, 175–85.

104
After the Genocide 105

west. Another two to three million Hutu had fled Rwanda to refugee camps 

in Tanzania, Burundi, and Zaire. In short, the nation was stunned, the government ceased to function, the economy stalled, crops grew untended in the 

fields and, in some places, the countryside was completely empty as were 

many of the towns. Moldering corpses of the dead lay piled in and around 

churches, in stadiums, and by the roadside. The remaining population was 

either the very old or very young, who wandered in disbelief.

The challenge of the new authorities was to maintain order and begin 

the process of rebuilding a nation with all of its complexities. In this beginning, the only instrument available for that purpose was the victorious 

army, the RPA. However, the RPA leadership was a complex compendium of 

military persons, civilian politicians, professionals (doctors and professors), 

and revolutionaries. Most of this inner cadre of the RPA—also double-hatted 

in its political wing, the Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF)—were the core group 

of exiled Tutsi who had grown up in Uganda. Years before, they spoke of 

organizing with the hope of returning to Rwanda to claim their birthright as 

citizens. Their initial aims were not to take power unilaterally to reinstitute 

sole rule by the Tutsi (although some participants probably did espouse 

that goal), but rather to return home, to regain their rights and property, 

and to share and participate in Rwandan politics and society without fear of 

persecution on account of their ethnicity.5

The reality of actually achieving those expectations began to take on 

substance following the accession to power of Yoweri Museveni in Uganda 

in 1986. Museveni was a firebrand from Uganda’s southwest. His Banyankole ethnic group had much in common with Tutsi, so an affinity existed that 

both Museveni and Tutsi refugee youth took advantage of when Museveni 

decided that his only role to participation and power in Uganda was via revolution. Twenty-eight people joined Museveni in his early struggle. Among 

them were Tutsi refugees Fred Rwigyema and Paul Kagame. As Museveni’s 

revolutionary army (the National Resistance Army [NRA]) expanded operations inside Uganda, dozens, then hundreds, and then thousands of Tutsi 

refugees rallied to his cause. These refugees learned military skills and discipline as members of the NRA during the quest for power in Uganda and 

afterward when the NRA became Uganda’s national army. In short order, 

5 Colin M. Waugh, Paul Kagame and Rwanda: Power, Genocide and the Rwandan Patriotic Front (Jefferson, NC: McFarland and Company, Inc., 2004), 19–26.
106 The Crisis of the African State

Rwandan exiles realized that they had both a revolutionary model in Museveni’s quest for power as well as an instrument to achieve it in the thousands 

of newly trained soldiers. 

Elected president of Uganda in 2001, Museveni had to forge links to all 

elements of Ugandan society as he engaged in the politics of ruling. RPF 

leaders quickly saw that—even though Rwandans had been a key part of 

the apparatus that permitted Museveni to take power and even though he 

was personally indebted to them—now as president of Uganda, Museveni 

had to preside in a broad fashion. Tutsi refugees were still exiles from elsewhere; they were not Ugandans. This realization inspired the conviction to 

return to Rwanda militarily in order to compel the Hutu government, led by 

Juvénal Habyarimana, to make space for them. Thus plans began to jell for 

this eventuality. 

The time came in October 1990 when, using the preparations for Uganda’s national day parade as cover, Rwandan personnel in the NRA began 

to move men and equipment to Mbarara in Uganda’s south. On 1 October, the Rwandan contingent mutinied. Declaring themselves the Rwandan 

Patriotic Army (RPA) under the leadership of General Fred Rwigyema, a 

thousand well-equipped soldiers moved across the nearby border into 

northern Rwanda.6

Obviously this precipitated a crisis not only between Uganda and Rwanda 

but also within the international community. Despite much back and forth, 

meetings, pleadings, name-calling, finger-pointing, and resolutions, the underlying fact remained that the RPA was established and on the ground in 

Rwanda. It could not retreat into Uganda. The proverbial die was cast. One 

of the early setbacks for the movement was the battlefield death of the 

NRA’s commanding general, Rwigyema, in early October 1990. Paul Kagame, who had been sent by Museveni to train at the U.S. Army Command 

and General Staff College at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, returned surreptitiously to the front and took command. Under his leadership and for the 

next four years, the RPA enjoyed various degrees of military success and a 

stalemate in Rwanda’s far north. 

While military issues stalled, politicians were busy negotiating. Under international aegis, the solutions for Rwanda’s imbroglio seemed to be power 

6 Robert E. Gribbin, In the Aftermath of Genocide: The U.S. Role in Rwanda (Bloomington, IN: iUniverse, 

2005), 62–68.
After the Genocide 107

sharing. Ultimately, after two years of negotiations, several agreements—

collectively known as the Arusha Accords—were reached and signed on 3 

August 1993.7 Foremost among them was the peace agreement that ended 

the hostilities. Five protocols were also signed. One affirmed the rule of law. 

Another provided for power sharing, offering a formula for allocating cabinet and parliamentary seats on a party-by-party basis within the framework 

of a broad-based transitional government. A third guaranteed the rights 

of refugees to return and established programs designed to reintegrate 

them into Rwanda’s social, economic, and political life. A fourth protocol 

provided for a combined national army, with supervision of its creation by 

a neutral observer force, and transition security arrangements for Kigali. 

The key provision of this agreement was that the government would contribute 60 percent of the troops and the RPA 40 percent, while the officer 

corps would be evenly split. A final protocol within the miscellaneous provisions provided for an RPF role in the intelligence services, oaths of office 

for high-ranking officials, and affirmation of adherence to and respect for 

the Universal Declaration of Human Rights.8

These accords failed to achieve their designed purpose, principally 

because President Habyarimana delayed implementation. He apparently postponed enacting these protocols on account of immense pressure 

from ethnic hard-liners who saw the accords as a sellout—an abandonment 

of them, a victory for the Tutsi, and a worthless concession to the international community. Consequently, they plotted, designed, and prepared for 

genocide. They would resolve the Tutsi problem forever and kill all of their 

enemies, and the first to go would be Habyarimana. 

Habyarimana finally succumbed to international pressure and agreed to 

implement the accords. As he was returning to Kigali on the night of 6 April 

1994, his plane was shot down on final approach; all aboard died. That was 

the signal. The genocide began.9

Over the next three months, approximately a million Rwandans were 

slaughtered by their fellow countrymen. It was a well-planned and efficiently 

implemented process. At first, the world turned a blind eye then, realizing the 

7 These five accords were signed in Arusha, Tanzania, on 4 August 1993 to end the Rwandan Civil War. 

They were the result of discussions that took place from July 1992 to July 1993, and were led by the 

Organisation of African Unity, France, and the United States. 

8 Bruce D. Jones, Peacemaking in Rwanda: The Dynamics of Failure (Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner, 2001), 

69–102. The entirety of the rights can be seen at http://www.un.org/en/documents/udhr/.

9 Masire, “Rwanda: The Preventable Genocide,”113–14. 
108 The Crisis of the African State

enormity of the massacre, it began to respond. Unfortunately, it was too little, too late. As genocidaires ran rampant, the RPA gathered its strength and 

moved south. It was a cohesive force and well motivated, whereas the government troops opposing it were distracted by genocide and the anarchy 

prevailing throughout the nation. The RPA’s actions did little to stall the violence. The genocide madness spread across the nation; Tutsi were murdered 

by the tens of thousands, and Hutu farmers fled before the advancing RPA. 

By July 1994, as noted above, the violence was over. Was it possible to 

put the nation together again? Whereas the Arusha Accords would have 

given the RPA/RPF leadership a slice of power, now they carried the responsibility of the entire country. They were not prepared for this eventuality but 

stepped up to the challenge. Security had to be addressed first to provide 

the foundation for decisions on political structures, justice, rehabilitation, 

reconstruction, and reconciliation. The advantage that the new RPF power 

structure offered in dealing with all the issues that came before it was that 

it was fairly monolithic. Decisions and policies were hammered out by the 

ruling clique in private. There was no organized opposition to deal with, 

no public criticism, and few other considerations to take into account. To 

the victors went the power. Everything could be justified—whether correctly 

or not—by security (i.e., the absolute necessity to see that genocide was 

squashed and that it and the ideology behind it could never rise again). 

Obviously, this was an extremely powerful card used internally to intimidate 

the Hutu populace and externally to maneuver around the international 

community and donors.10

In July 1994, only the RPA remained. Small contingents occupied the 

countryside; officers were in charge. The RPA had become a basic military. 

They had only a few vehicles and almost no heavy weapons. Communications were poor, and troops moved by foot. Some of the soldiers had been 

trained in Uganda prior to the mutiny, but many others had joined even as 

the genocide was underway. Their chief task had been the military—finding and chasing the enemy, fighting as required. They were ill prepared for 

peacetime occupation duties. 

There were no civil authorities and few civil leaders, such as priests or 

teachers or elders; communities were in disarray. The RPA arrested thousands accused of genocide crimes and incarcerated them in national prisons 

10 Dr. Theogene Rudasingwa, Healing a Nation: A Testimony (North Charleston, SC: Create Space Independent Publishing Platform, 2013), 174–76.
After the Genocide 109

or local jails. Yet, the central government’s demands for peace and a return 

to everyday life were compelling, and the people complied. The problem, 

however, was that many citizens just were not there. Some were dead, but 

most were grouped in internal sites or refugee camps in neighboring countries. The task of getting these small segments of the population home would 

remain for years, but the first step was to close the internal camps. Most of 

them were located in what had been the safe zone created by Operation Turquoise, the French-controlled area in the southwest. After the French left, the 

UN Assistance Mission for Rwanda (UNAMIR) was reconstituted, but the real 

security managers were in the RPA. The RPA assumed the task of closing the 

camps, which was accomplished peacefully for the most part, except at Kibeho, where some hard-liners took a stand and the army used heavy-handed 

tactics. Consequently, some people died.11 Even though protests came from 

the international community about further deaths, the new Rwandan government brushed off the criticism, noting that it was sovereign and pursuing 

a responsible policy designed to return citizens to their homes. 

Meanwhile the ex-FAR/Interahamwe was reorganizing, rearming, and rethinking its tactics from its Zairian base. Although it had fled in haste, the 

ex-FAR had managed to escape with a good bit of military equipment. 

Their troops were well equipped with a large quantity of rifles, hand grenades, and RPGs (rocket-propelled grenades). In addition to seizing trucks 

and jeeps, they had absconded with several armored cars, some artillery 

pieces, a small plane, and a couple helicopters. The government of Zaire 

supposedly confiscated the large items, but reliable reports indicated that 

new shipments of small arms reached the ex-FAR via Congo’s Goma International Airport. The Kigali leadership never trusted Zaire’s good faith or, 

more importantly, its ability to rein in the genocidaire elements. The command structure of the ex-FAR after the genocide was hard to determine, but 

several of the ranking officers, including General Augustin Bizimungu and 

Colonel Tharcisse Renzaho, seemed to have maintained control. Bizimungu 

and his men enjoyed freedom of movement in Kivu and were unhindered 

in running their activities from their bastion at Lac Vert, but they sought to 

be discreet so as not to embarrass their host. 

The island of Iwawa, in the middle of Lake Kivu, was used by the ex-FAR 

11 Thomas P. Odom, Journey into Darkness: Genocide in Rwanda (College Station: Texas A&M University 

Press, 2005), 223–29.
110 The Crisis of the African State

as a training base, even though Iwawa was considered Rwandan territory. 

When the RPA discovered the presence of ex-FAR members in November 

1995, it organized a nighttime amphibious assault using old fishing boats, 

which destroyed the installation and allowed both the men and their weapons to be captured.12 The fight at Iwawa served as a wake-up call for both 

sides. The ex-FAR recognized that it would not fare well in any direct confrontation with the RPA and, as a result, it turned exclusively to insurgent 

terror tactics aimed at civilians. In addition, the Iwawa event made it clear 

that, as long as the genocidaires controlled the refugee camps and used 

Zaire for asylum and support, they would pose a threat to Rwanda.

And that threat was real. Violence had erupted sporadically throughout 

the nation since the genocide. Some of the incidents, especially in the former Operation Turquoise safe zone, were attributed to genocidaires who 

had been left behind, but a clearer pattern slowly emerged as new infiltrators joined stay-at-home genocidaire loyalists intent on terror activities.

Insurgent operations were concentrated in the western prefectures that 

bordered Zaire. During the first half of 1996, insurgent actions caused approximately 100 deaths per month. IEDs on roads in and out of the area 

seemed the favored tactic, as passengers would die in the resulting explosion as well as in the wreck. Such attacks hampered humanitarian operations 

because they made food deliveries and other road movements dangerous. 

Additionally, the insurgent forces focused efforts on assassinating local 

government officials and Tutsi survivors. In several instances, survivors were 

killed because they were witnesses to specific acts of genocide. Rural Tutsi 

households were singled out, raided, and the inhabitants murdered. These 

activities were indisputably a continuation of genocide, a fact that overshadowed any political rationale that might be offered for the insurgency. Local 

government officials, communal counselors, assistant burgomasters, and 

the judicial policemen who investigated genocide crimes were targeted 

and killed. Many of them were Hutu. The apparent intent was intimidation 

and sent the message that collaboration with the RPF government was life 

threatening. In one attack in March, insurgents threw grenades into a communal cachot (local jail), resulting in 40 deaths of Hutu prisoners.13

Obviously, the insurgency had its strongest political impact in the rural 

12 Ibid., 260–69.

13 Gribbin, In the Aftermath of Genocide, 141–48.
After the Genocide 111

zones. The local people kept their heads down, eyes averted, and doors 

closed. They did not want to risk violence at the hands of the intimidators 

and were not yet convinced that the RPF would prevail. They saw the violence as a continuation of the struggle. The government recognized that it 

had to do a better job not only in countering the insurgents militarily but 

also in convincing the people to join efforts to protect themselves. Prime 

Minister Pierre-Célestin Rwigema regularly preached this message to the 

masses, while prefects and burgomasters expanded grassroots efforts to 

elicit more cooperation from people in conflict zones.

Rwandan leaders raised the volume of their protests about ex-FAR/Interahamwe activities in the camps and the insurgency, also decrying Zaire’s 

role—witting or unwitting—in such nefarious designs. Rwandan leaders let it 

be known that if the international community would not rein in the genocidaire elements in Zaire then the government would be compelled to do it. 

While the international community dithered, insurgent attacks in Rwanda’s 

north intensified. Naturally, the RPA reacted. 

UN human rights monitors kept careful track of violence in the countryside. Initially, most attacks and deaths, which totaled about 100 a month, 

were clearly the work of insurgents. However, RPA personnel committed 

some extralegal killings, which began to rise dramatically in the first half 

of 1996 as its anti-insurgent response gained steam. A typical pattern for 

violence was for infiltrators from Zaire to kill a local official or a Tutsi family. 

In response, an RPA detachment would sweep through the area in an effort 

to find the rebels, but if the insurgents escaped, the surrounding community bore the brunt of army brutality anyway. Some of the population of 

the western prefectures—Gisenyi, Ruhengeri, Kibuye, Gitirama, and Cyangugu—aided and abetted the insurgents voluntarily. More communities 

did so under threat of retaliation, but most were cowed into silence. RPA’s 

heavy-handed tactics exacerbated the situation. The civilian population was 

caught in this cycle of violence and neither side provided a safe solution. 

In June, July, and August of 1996, the RPA conducted search-and-cordon 

operations in northwestern communes. Troops marched across the hills, 

collected and confined all people, and then screened them. Men without 

identity papers, or who otherwise could not account for their presence, 

were detained as suspected insurgents. Credible intelligence pointed toward summary executions of such individuals. Records for July show that 

365 people were killed in 93 separate incidents.
112 The Crisis of the African State

It was an anxious time for Rwanda. There was the danger that the nation 

would plunge into unending ethnic warfare. The government’s hardearned reputation for good faith in its quest to rebuild and reconcile could 

be sullied by harsh reprisals. Diplomats stressed the need for strict army 

discipline during anti-insurgent forays and the need for new tactics to single out infiltrators. Although the RPA code of conduct was satisfactory, it 

needed to be applied vigorously by RPA leadership. Rwanda’s reputation 

was on the line. Its claim to the moral high ground and to the world’s support rested on the contention that it was not vengeful in outlook, that it 

was a proponent and practitioner of ethnic harmony. Killing innocent Hutu 

did not sustain that view. The RPA’s claim to self-discipline was eroded by 

egregious actions.

These criticisms stung, as they cut straight to the core identity of the regime. Leaders did not want to stir the ethnic pot, but they saw no way to 

combat the insurgency other than through confrontation. They regretted 

collateral damage to civilians but soon recognized how destructive such a 

cycle of violence entailed. Over the course of months, the code of conduct 

was rigorously enforced, including arrests of RPA personnel for abuses. Tactically, a rapid response/hot pursuit doctrine replaced widespread sweeps 

as a method to root out insurgents. Finally, on the military side, the activation and posting of integrated ex-FAR troops into RPA contingents in the 

northwest helped counter local fears of Tutsi dominance. The government 

was quite active in making its case for peace and national harmony, for the 

need for justice, for the return of refugees, and for redoubled efforts to rebuild the economy. 

Yet, such rhetoric could be cloaked in not-so-subtle threats. In his speech 

on 4 July 1996, marking the second anniversary of Kigali’s liberation from 

genocide, Vice President Kagame spoke to the insurgency. 

These acts will not make us deviate from our initial program. . . . We 

must find a solution to the problem, by fair means or foul. . . . We must 

do whatever is possible within the law. . . . Of course, there will be casualties. . . . It is the responsibility of soldiers to stop those killings. It is 

also the responsibility of all Rwandans . . . who understand that those 

acts are not in the interest of the country, but rather penalize each and 

every one. It is high time Rwandese stood up and declared their stand 

either for or against the crime. . . . I should add that that those who 
After the Genocide 113

think that the Government’s will to receive everybody, to unite them 

and provide them with subsistence means is a sign of weakness, are 

mistaken.14

The vice president warned about rumors, saying that those who believed 

them were as bad as those who spread them. In closing, he stated, “Whoever will come with good intentions, we will welcome; whoever will come with 

bad intentions will be received in the same way.”15

On the practical side, the United States sponsored a series of training sessions for the RPA and the gendarmerie on military justice. Professors from 

the U.S. Naval Justice School taught judicial organization, court–martial

procedures, and investigations. Americans also shared experiences on 

how to educate troops about their human rights obligations toward civilians. In a linked but separate undertaking, U.S. military personnel assisted 

the RPA in developing a public relations campaign designed to promote 

the reintegration of returning refugees, the ideals of the new Rwanda (i.e., 

ethnic harmony), an end to violence, and cooperation with the RPA for local 

security. The messages directed to the rural population were intended to 

defuse tensions between residents and military personnel, as well as to ease 

the return of refugees and prisoners to their home communes. In part, this 

public relations effort was intended to counter the Hutu hate propaganda 

that still festered in the rural areas. It was also aimed at RPA troops and was 

designed to teach them how to deal more effectively with civilians. The program was an outgrowth of a very effective public awareness effort regarding 

land mines. Unfortunately, however, the U.S. military dubbed such programs 

psychological operations or “psyops.” That label rang alarm bells for international human rights organizations and the world press, some of whose 

members believed that the United States was engaged in Manchuriancandidate type brainwashing.16

War in Zaire 

In the fall of 1997, the combined weight of the northern insurgency and 

the unresolved issue of millions of refugees just across the border led the 

14 Press release from the Office of the Vice President, Kigali, July 1996.

15 Ibid.

16 Gribbin, In the Aftermath of Genocide, 163–64. The premise of a Manchurian candidate was originally 

presented in 1959 by author Richard Condon. His like titled book featured the son of a prominent political family who was brainwashed to assassinate the U.S. president.
114 The Crisis of the African State

RPF government to act. First, it conspired with the government of Burundi 

to close the camps there and repatriate about 75,000 people. Although 

there was some international outcry, the refugees returned peacefully to 

their homes and began to rebuild their lives. Second, the Rwandan leadership followed through on its threats to take matters into their own hands 

vis-à-vis the camps in Zaire. Armed groups, purportedly Zairian, but in reality Rwandan, systematically attacked refugee camps in South Kivu. But 

rather than return home, the tens, even hundreds of thousands of Rwandans seemed to disappear. They had, in fact, fled north and west, herded 

along by the new military pressure, but also in seeming submission to their 

genocidaire overlords. Rebel/Rwandan pressure soon emptied outlying 

camps in North Kivu as well. Most refugees retreated and were then concentrated in the Mugunga refugee camp outside of Goma. Fighting there 

in early November broke the stranglehold of the genocidaires and a million refugees began to trek home. It took five days for them all to clear the 

border crossing at Gisenyi.

Yet the struggle in Zaire was not over. Armed genocidaire elements 

shepherded tens of thousands of refugees westward into the Congo basin 

rainforest. Rwandan forces, perhaps numbering several thousand, pursued 

them and clashed repeatedly. Along the way, this initially exported continuation of Rwanda’s ethnic war morphed into an effort—fed politically by 

Laurent-Désiré Kabila, leader of the Alliance of Democratic Forces for the 

Liberation of the Congo-Zaire (AFDL)—to oust Mobutu. Uganda, Angola, 

and Burundi joined in that successful effort. 

Ultimately, another 50,000 or so refugees returned to Rwanda from the 

rain forests of Zaire, but many of the armed ex-FAR/Interahamwe troops 

managed to stay together or later regroup into the Forces Démocratiques 

pour la Libération du Rwanda (FDLR). FDLR elements have been upsetting 

peace in the Congo ever since.17

One immediate consequence of the imbroglio in Zaire was the suspension of U.S. military assistance to Rwanda, which had been negligible in any 

case. At the time, it consisted of one ongoing training session—the third or 

so repetition of training for patrol-size contingents. Additionally, the United 

States was supporting a demining operation that included a small military 

public relations component (i.e., teaching Rwandan counterparts how to 

17 Gérard Prunier, Africa’s World War: Congo, the Rwandan Genocide, and the Making of a Continental 

Catastrophe (Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press, 2009), 319–27.
After the Genocide 115

put together mine awareness campaigns). Finally, under discussion, but not 

yet implemented, was a rather substantial package of nonlethal equipment, 

including radio gear and night vision goggles. However, foregoing that aid 

was a price that the Rwandan leadership was willing to pay. 

The regime was confident both in the righteousness of their quest and 

in their ability to accomplish their goals. Nonetheless, the legacy of this 

First Congo War (1996–97) was more conflict in eastern Congo; much of it 

related directly to nonresolution of Rwandan ethnic differences. Additional violence ensued during the Second Congo War (1998–2003) that drew 

continent-wide participation. Violence continues to this day in Kivu provinces as disparate forces, armies, militias, proxies, peacekeepers, and others 

contend for power. 

However, back in Rwanda following the dismantling of the Zairian refugee 

camps, insurgent forces made several last-ditch efforts to establish themselves inside the homeland, including attacks on communal centers with 

hundreds of combatants. However, the better organized, led, and armed 

RPA, which then included substantial numbers of Hutu soldiers integrated 

into the RPA from the former army, defeated them at every turn. Deprived 

of cross-border support, as well as the narrative of restored Hutu power, the 

insurgency withered away. 

Politics

When coming to power in July 1994, RPF leaders were faced with the necessity of creating a new government and an administration. To their credit, they 

decided to use the never-implemented provisions of the Arusha Accords 

that allocated seats in parliament and cabinet posts by political party. The 

National Revolutionary Movement for Development (MRND, Habyarimana’s 

party) was excluded as were other Hutu power hard liners. The RPF assumed 

those seats and allocated most of the others to the RPA (the army) and a 

few to women, labor, and youth. An initial problem arose in finding competent representatives from the various parties to take the seats. Decisions on 

who would become members of parliament (MP) were left to each party. 

Although there was the semblance of caucusing among several of the parities, there were no elections or primaries as such. Those who became MPs 

were second echelon leaders who had survived the violence and remained 

in country. Nonetheless, the new parliament was multiparty and multiethnic. In fact, Hutu MPs outnumbered Tutsi MPs, most of whom came from 
116 The Crisis of the African State

the RPF and the liberal party. Similarly, in the cabinet, most seats were filled 

by Hutu. Even the new president, Pasteur Bizimungu, a card-carrying RPF 

member, was Hutu. Finally, the post of prime minister was given to Faustin 

Twagiramungu, from the Mouvement Démocratique Républicain (MDR), a 

Hutu activist and opponent of the Habyarimana regime. Despite the façade 

of multiparties and ethnic cooperation, real power remained vested in the 

RPF, especially the RPA and its leader Paul Kagame. The government created 

the position of vice president for Kagame, a post that he would occupy for 

several years concomitantly with that of minister of defense. 

Real decision making remained the provenance of RPF insiders. This was 

a mutable group of individuals, sometimes referred to as a “committee of 

colonels,” who had formed the RPA/RPF in Uganda and had remained engaged in the struggle ever since. The RPF presented a strong and united 

front to the outside, but from the beginning there was internal dissent. Gradually, as positions and viewpoints varied, even this group was winnowed 

down and the early practice of open discussion faded away. The style of 

rule that emerged over the next decade would be one of authoritarianism. 

Paul Kagame and his most trusted inner circle had a vision of governing 

that would not tolerate challenge. They would not permit any hint of a return to ethnic ideology to threaten Tutsi control or national security.18

The first outward evidence of reduced participation was the departure 

of Prime Minister Twagiramungu in 1995. He had argued for a more realistic inclusion of Hutu in the new polity. He was replaced by Pierre-Célestin 

Rwigema, also from the MDR, who was forced aside in 2000. The pattern 

of denigrating any Hutu in later years—including President Bizimungu, who 

seemed poised to command his own political base—became well established. This was a powerful political card because just an allegation that 

one was tainted by genocide was enough to end a political career. Even so, 

RPF Tutsi stalwarts were sidelined as well when or if their views challenged 

those of Kagame’s inner circle.19

In addition to the structure of government at the highest level, the new 

leadership had to reestablish local government as well. The RPF adhered 

to the system already familiar to all citizens. The basic unit was the com18 Rudasingwa, Healing a Nation, 243–60. 19 Joseph Sebarenzi, God Sleeps in Rwanda: A Journey of Transformation (New York: Atria Publishing, 

2009). Sebarenzi’s ordeal occurred after the events related in this chapter, but his story of harassment 

and exclusion is symptomatic of the approach employed by the ruling clique.
After the Genocide 117

mune (akin to an American county) headed by a burgomaster (a term left 

over from Belgian colonial times). All government services in a commune—

health, education, police, tax collection, public works, etc.—were in some 

part a communal responsibility. A burgomaster wielded the clout of the 

central government but also exercised power conferred on leaders via traditional culture. Rwandan culture contained a strong ethic of obedience 

to leadership. Whatever the leader ordained would be accomplished. This 

cultural trait helps explain why so many people joined without hesitation 

in committing genocide. In hindsight, it also may explain why they readily 

complied with commands from the new government to reconcile, rebuild, 

and forego ethnic animus. 

The RPF leadership made certain that the majority of the burgomaster 

slots were filled by RPF loyalists. Thus, it was able to move its vision forward 

throughout the nation. Only some years later would burgomasters be elected, but by then the people generally knew who to elect. 

Since the genocide, Rwanda has held two national elections (2003 and 

2010). Paul Kagame was elected president both times. An RPF-oriented 

slate of MPs and burgomasters was also selected. Even though the appearance of political inclusiveness is carefully cultivated, there is no question as 

to where power lies. 

Reintegration of Refugees

Several million Rwandans left their homes during or just after the genocide. 

They grouped in displaced persons camps and in vast camps across the 

borders in Zaire, Tanzania, and Burundi. Although about a million people 

died during the genocide, almost that same number of Tutsi refugees returned to Rwanda from camps in Uganda, Burundi, and the diaspora where 

they had lived for a generation. Still, it was obvious that the nation could 

not be rebuilt, and society and normal life could not be reestablished until 

the millions of Hutu returned home. The refugees began that trek in 1996 

as the governments of Burundi and Tanzania closed their camps and the 

Congolese rebels and Rwandan forces broke apart the camps in Zaire.20

Returning Hutu refugees often found their houses occupied and their 

20 For more on these actions, see “Burundi: Refugee Camps in Tanzania to Close,” IRIN, 8 May 2009, 

http://www.irinnews.org/report/84290/burundi-refugee-camps-in-tanzania-to-close; and Virgil Hawkins, “Africa’s World War in the DRC and International Consciousness,” Diario de la Auyda Humanitaria 

(blog), 21 May 2015, http://www.jha.ac/articles/a126.htm.
118 The Crisis of the African State

fields tended by strangers. The new government decreed that recent returnees were not to be dispossessed, but that they should share until 

housing and land could be provided for the returning Tutsi, which they did 

while the government—with assistance from international donors—created 

new villages and centers for social services.

The new government also required a portion of returning Hutu, especially the educated, youths, and former military personnel or government 

employees, to attend reeducation camps.21 For several weeks, they were 

taught the virtues of new Rwanda. They were inculcated with the need to 

disavow ethnic hatred, to recognize the impact of genocide, to accept the 

need for justice and the new order of peaceful coexistence. After being 

indoctrinated, some former military joined the new army, and others went 

back to work as teachers or government employees.22 

Justice 

Genocide had been widespread. It took fewer than 100 days to kill a million people. Estimates indicate that 300,000 people participated in the 

slaughter in some fashion or another. By the end of 1996, about 120,000 

people—mostly men, but also women and children—were in prison accused 

of genocide crimes. What was the government to do with them and with 

others implicated but not jailed? 

The United Nations created the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda, an international court designed to search out the “major players” (the 

planners, organizers, and leaders of genocide) to hold them accountable 

for their crimes under international law.23 Most of the indicted (about 40) 

had previously fled Rwanda and had to be retrieved from their various exile 

locations. Although that process was of great interest to Rwanda (because 

investigations and witnesses had to come from Rwanda), the more immediate problem was internal. The new government was anxious that justice be 

done and that it was witnessed by the population. The first step was to draft 

a genocide law that would enable appropriate prosecutions.24 The second 

21 Jina Moore, “Rwandans: A Reeducation in How to Live Together,” Christian Science Monitor, 8 April 

2009, http://www.csmonitor.com/World/Africa/2009/0408/p25s08-woaf.html.

22 Gribbin, In the Aftermath of Genocide, 208–10. 23 United Nations, Statute of the International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda, Security Council Resolution 

955, 8 November 1994, http://legal.un.org/avl/ha/ictr/ictr.html.

24 See, for example, “The Genocide Convention in International Law,” United States Holocaust Memorial Museum, 

http://www.ushmm.org/confront-genocide/justice-and-accountability/introduction-to-the-definition-of-genocide.
After the Genocide 119

step was to compile files and charges against those imprisoned. Concomitantly, the new government needed to recreate a destroyed judicial system 

so that trials could be held. All of this was accomplished by 1997. The first 

trials focused on the most egregious cases, and defendants were convicted 

and sentenced to death. After the required judicial review by the high court, 

more than 20 people were publicly executed in April 1998.25

Trials continued—and are ongoing—but there were to be no more executions. The specter of the state shooting thousands or even tens of thousands 

of its citizens by firing squads was not palatable. So those thousands sentenced to death remained on death row. Ultimately all such sentences were 

commuted to life imprisonment; Rwanda eventually abolished the death 

penalty completely. 

While the most egregious cases were reserved for the formal legal system, clearly the pace of trials would never provide resolution within any 

respectable timeframe. Thus, it was imperative to find another mechanism 

to hold genocidaires accountable, at least those accused of less heinous 

crimes. The mechanism seized upon was that of Gacaca court, a traditional 

system of justice dealing with family, land, and property disputes that had 

largely fallen out of favor in the independence era. Plaintiffs brought their 

complaints before a council of respected neighbors who decided the case. 

That format was revived and expanded so that cases related to genocide 

could be considered at the local level. Judges were selected and trained. A 

uniform procedure was adopted, and the process began. Tens of thousands 

of people appeared before Gacaca courts. Neighbors testified, defendants 

offered explanations or excuses, and their cases were decided. Many were 

sentenced to time served and/or community service. A few were returned 

to prison. The Gacaca process gripped Rwanda for years, but formally ended in 2011—justice was largely seen to be done.26

Conclusions

By 2000, Rwanda had successfully emerged as a viable entity. It cherished 

its sovereignty and had become a regional player, especially in the troubled eastern Congo where some legitimate Rwandan security interests 

25 James C. McKinley Jr., “As Crowds Vent Their Rage, Rwanda Publicly Executes 22,” New York Times, 

25 April 1998, http://www.nytimes.com/1998/04/25/world/as-crowds-vent-their-rage-rwanda-publicly

-executes-22.html.

26 Waugh, Paul Kagame and Rwanda, 166–84. 
120 The Crisis of the African State

remained unresolved. Rwandan meddling in the Congo would remain an 

issue that would upset the international community for years to come. Additional criticisms leveled at the regime in Kigali included the authoritarian 

nature of governance wherein dissent was not well tolerated and the intrusive social engineering evident in reeducation camps, the Gacaca process, 

and also in the villagization program27 and constraints on how rural land 

could be used. 

Even so, domestically, Rwanda was at peace and society was rebuilding. 

Under Paul Kagame’s leadership, the RPF carefully adhered to its vision of 

a society where ethnicity was not a determinant. However, memories of the 

genocide continued to be evoked, by the Gacaca trials, by regular commemorations, and by corrupt politics. Yet, Rwanda had created some democratic 

institutions; multiparties organized, civil society grew, the judicial system 

became more autonomous, local officials were elected, and parliament debated. Schools and universities flourished. The economy rebounded with a 

focus on agriculture and on the search for high-tech opportunities. 

Rwanda’s recovery from the calamitous genocide that wiped out 15 percent of its population and sent another 30 percent into exile was nothing 

short of extraordinary. That it did so with a minimum of acrimony was even 

more astonishing. Under proud and self-reliant leadership, the citizens of 

this once terribly troubled land gained the space to look confidently to a 

brighter and more prosperous future.

27 Dr. Ali B. Ali-Dinar, ed., “IRIN Focus on Villagisation,” UN Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian 

Affairs, 13 October 1999, http://www.africa.upenn.edu/Hornet/irin_101399.html.
Chapter Six

France and Libya in Chad: 

A Strange Triangle

by Robert Nalbandov*

Introduction

The history of humankind is marked by constant struggle for existence. 

Within states or between them, conflicts had dual roles: they were either 

principal driving forces for human evolution, contributing to development 

of peoples’ thoughts, their ideas on reality, and their perceptions of the 

contemporary world, or they stalled progress by taking away human and 

material resources, which are limited by definition. 

When talking about interstate or intrastate wars, the established approach for contemporary conflict resolution and intervention literature 

starts its epistemological inquiry into the post-WWII Cold War period, 

which heralded a new era of liberalization of the world, especially on the 

African continent. The process of decolonization was not an easy task to 

accomplish; many newly created African nations experienced severe human strife caused by ethnic clashes within state territories. At this point, 

the ideological identity of conflicting groups was replaced or layered with 

religious and/or ethnic ones. Ethnicity and nationalism was translated in the 

African context into interclan and interreligion rivalry, which became key 

distinguishing features of groups representing country populations.

Important insights for successful resolution are contained in the character of participants of the process of conflict. Domestic actors do not engage 

in wars in a complete vacuum; any process significant enough to change a 

country’s political and/or territorial settings would inevitably have a “butterfly effect”1 on its immediate surroundings and even far beyond. In essence, 

* Dr. Robert Nalbandov is an assistant professor with the Department of Political Science at Utah State 

University. His teaching and research includes U.S. foreign policy and Eurasian and African politics and 

security. 

1 Coined by Edward Lorenz in 1961, the butterfly effect refers to aspects of chaos theory whereby a small 

event in a nonlinear system can create large changes in a later state.

121
122 The Crisis of the African State

conflicts may continue or end as a result of actions of the belligerents alone, 

or with the participation of third parties. Although the warring factions 

can, in principle, reach solutions to the disputes, outside interference or 

third-party interventions may play a critical role in shaping the course of 

domestic events. Outside actors may either aggravate or mitigate intrastate 

security dilemmas2 by skewing the local power balance toward the parties 

they support or, in case of their neutrality, by favoring the common good of 

a larger regional and/or international community of states they represent. 

Intrastate conflicts and the means of their resolution have been the focus 

of international relations scholars and practitioners from diverse perspectives 

and entry points—their participants, the goals of belligerent groups, the specific outcomes of conflicts, the regional and international environment in which 

the conflicts take place, the consequences of civil wars, and many more. While 

some investigate the endogenous nature of belligerents3

 and attempt to define conditions for the victory of domestic actors,4

 others focus on external 

players that affect the course of civil war,5

 study the effects of the composition 

of third-party interventions in the matter of conflict resolution,6

 successes or 

failures of negotiations,7

 the rules of the resolution process and the roles of 

postconflict institutions in conflict management,8

 the ways in which civil wars 

end,9

 and finally, domestic and international factors contributing to specific 

conflict outcomes.10 All these aspects of foreign interventions are abundant 

on the African continent, which makes it notoriously unique from the point of 

view of attracting the parochial interests of third parties. 

2 Paul Roe, “The Intrastate Security Dilemma: Ethnic Conflict as a ‘Tragedy’?,” Journal of Peace Research

36, no. 2 (1999): 183–202.

3 Ivan Areguín-Toft, “How the Weak Win Wars: A Theory of Asymmetric Conflict,” International Security

26, no. 1 (Summer 2001): 93–128. 

4 Andrew Mack, “Why Big Nations Lose Small Wars: The Politics of Asymmetric Conflict,” World Politics

27, no. 2 (1975): 175–200.

5 Jack Snyder and Robert Jervis, “Civil War and the Security Dilemma,” in Civil Wars, Insecurity, and Intervention, ed. Barbara F. Walter and Jack L. Snyder (New York: Columbia University Press, 1999), 17–37. 6 Patrick M. Regan, “Conditions of Successful Third-Party Interventions in Intrastate Conflicts,” Journal of 

Conflict Resolution 40, no. 2 (1996): 336–59. 7 Barbara F. Walter, “The Critical Barrier to Civil War Settlement,” International Organization 51, no. 3 

(Summer 1997): 335–64.

8 Caroline A. Hartzell, “Explaining the Stability of Negotiated Settlements to Intrastate Wars,” Journal of 

Conflict Resolution 43, no. 1 (1999): 3–22. 9 Roy Licklider, “The Consequences of Negotiated Settlements in Civil Wars, 1945–1993,” American Political Science Review 89, no. 3 (1995): 681–90. 10 Errol A. Henderson and J. David Singer, “Civil War in the Post-Colonial World, 1946–92,” Journal of 

Peace Research 37, no. 3 (2000): 275–99.
France and Libya in Chad 123

Peace-centric versus

Goal-oriented Approach

With all the differences in approaches to the study of foreign interventions in domestic identity conflicts, there is a general agreement to view 

the successes of third-party actions by the duration of peace established 

after interventions occur, which has become almost commonplace in intervention and conflict discourse. The durable peace approach is widely 

used as a criterion for judgment about success of third-party actions with 

different proxies of peace longevity. For instance, Caroline Hartzell and Roy 

Licklider equate successful interventions with de facto peace lasting for at 

least five years.11 Two years of successful peacebuilding after the end of the 

wars are named by Michael Doyle and Nicholas Sambanis as an indicator 

of an interventions’ success,12 while Patrick Regan applies a more rigid parameter for the “success” of interventions: peace that lasts for at least six 

months.13 Peace as the main outcome of interventions is also used in David 

Carment’s and Dane Rowlands’ analysis of third-party interventions in civil 

wars.14 For their part, Paul Diehl et al. focuses on successes of multilateral 

interventions, primarily undertaken by the UN, in domestic conflicts from 

the point of view of successful peacebuilding.15 The quintessence of these 

research endeavors means that the interventions are considered successful 

as long as postintervention peace in a target country lasts. Similarly, if the 

intervenors fail to establish peace in war-torn countries, or the peace had 

not lasted long enough, they are said to be unsuccessful.

Using durable peace as the main variable for the outcome of interventions has a number of theoretical and methodological fallacies. The main 

problem with this view is that it does not take into account the complexities of those intervening and the domestic players. Most importantly, this 

peace-centric approach does not consider the real intentions of interve11 Hartzell, “Explaining the Stability of Negotiated Settlements,” 14; and Licklider, “The Consequences 

of Negotiated Settlements,” 682.

12 Michael W. Doyle and Nicholas Sambanis, “International Peacebuilding: A Theoretical and Quantitative Analysis,” American Political Science Review 94, no. 4 (2000): 779–801. 13 Patrick M. Regan, “Choosing to Intervene: Outside Interventions in Internal Conflicts,” Journal of Politics 60, no. 3 (1998): 754–79. 14 David Carment and Dane Rowlands, “Three’s Company: Evaluating Third-Party Intervention in Intrastate Conflict,” Journal of Conflict Resolution 42, no. 5 (1998): 572–99. 15 Paul F. Diehl, Jennifer Reifschneider, and Paul R. Hensel, “United Nations Intervention and Recurring 

Conflict,” International Organization 50, no. 4 (1996): 683–700.
124 The Crisis of the African State

nors and the causes of interventions. Third parties may intervene in a target 

country as a response to humanitarian crises resulting from civil war; they 

may even have been the instigator of those wars. Intervenors may support 

belligerent groups by openly providing them military and/or economic resources for prolonged hostilities or support by clandestine insurgencies. 

They may intervene alone or in coalition, be biased, or neutral and/or 

impartial. The dimensions of success for all these different interest- and 

goal-driven interventions are set up by the years of peace after their actions 

are over. 

Domestic context also matters in evaluating the success of third parties; the intricacies of local political environs and relative domestic power 

balances between ethnic groups seriously affect outcomes of third-party 

actions. For instance, external efforts to the majority that, according to Robert Wagner, are more capable of reaching decisive victory, are more likely 

to succeed than support to the minority group.16 All these country- and 

intervenor-specific differences make attempts to measure conflict resolution by a single constant variable of peace undesirably curtailed. Such a 

time proxy brings in the “billiard ball”17 view of intervenors that all “third 

parties intervene in intrastate conflicts to bring an end to the violence associated with the underlying dispute” and that they “do not intervene to 

exacerbate or prolong the fighting.”18 This means that all third parties are, 

by definition, equally peace driven in their actions and that peacemaking 

is their actual aim. However, when the matter concerns the real agendas of 

intervenors and what they indeed wanted to achieve, this approach seems 

to be inadequate. 

We may have conflicts where a third party directs its support to an ethnic 

group, which eventually loses the war to its rival, thus ending the conflict 

and restoring peace in a target country. Duration of peace in this case will 

actually depend on how effectively and decisively the victor could triumph 

over the intervention-supported group, thus making third-party actions unsuccessful. We may also see conflicts where intervenors are not concerned 

with the fate of the belligerents per se and the resolution of conflicts in 

general but, rather, aim at exercising their own power influence over the tar16 Robert H. Wagner, “The Causes of Peace,” in Stopping the Killing: How Civil Wars End, ed. Roy Licklider 

(New York: New York University Press, 1993). 

17 Arnold Wolfers, Discord and Collaboration: Essays on International Politics (Baltimore, MD: Johns 

Hopkins University Press, 1962), 3–25.

18 Regan, “Conditions of Successful Third-Party Interventions,” 340.
France and Libya in Chad 125

get country by prolonging civil unrest. In these cases, they would be more 

interested in continuation, rather than cessation, of hostilities—the longer 

peace deals last, the less successful their actions would be.

Even if durability of peace is applied to the measure of success and 

cessation of hostilities is indeed the goal of the intervenors, using such a 

protracted indicator as several years or even six months of peace after the 

end of a war gives us a distorted understanding of intervention and is inconsistent with the actual situation on the ground in a postconflict country. 

At the same time, what may be sufficient time for postconflict settlement 

for one country may not be enough for others due to domestic context 

matters, the wide array of goals and aspirations of third parties, the roles 

they play on international and regional arenas, the interactions they have 

with other actors, the composition of intervenors themselves, and the nature of the conflicting parties. Even more so, outside efforts directed toward 

ending conflicts often become counterproductive to peace. Interventions 

may either not end conflicts at all or only provide temporary termination of 

hostilities, which are susceptible to resumption in a short time span. Similarly, a cease-fire achieved through intervention may merely grant additional 

time to the belligerents, during which they can marshal their forces for the 

resumption of hostilities in future. All these differences make attempts to 

measure conflict resolution by a single constant parameter scientifically 

curtailed.

Apart from theorizing, the peace-centric line of reasoning has quite a strong 

normative and moral connotation. It is a universal truism that peace is better 

than war, the latter leading to tremendous human suffering. If we assume that 

the success of third-party actions measured through long-lasting peace after 

interventions is positive, and their failure, as measured by the resumption of 

hostilities after a certain time period, is negative, then the question arises, 

“How was this peace, or a positive state of affairs, established in first place, 

and for whom was it positive?” What if, in order to reach long-lasting peace, 

one ethnic group being supported by a third party had to completely wipe 

out the other one?

What makes peace-centrism even more problematic is its methodological failure to differentiate between pro-pax (peace) and pro-bellum (war) 

third parties by putting them in one melting pot of discourse. Years of 

peace as a result of the peacekeeping and peacebuilding efforts of neutral 

and impartial intervenors are equated in a statement of success along with 
126 The Crisis of the African State

the extended nonresumption of hostilities achieved by biased third parties. 

In this line of reasoning, the nature of outside actors is limited to counting 

years of peace. 

Another methodological failure of this peace-centric measure is its operationalization—or the process of strictly defining variables into measureable 

factors—based on a timescale for evaluating success. Even the most rigid 

criterion, such as a six-month period of peace after the intervention, proves 

unsatisfactory when considering the different agendas of the intervenors. 

A third-party intervention that aims to accomplish limited agendas (e.g., 

providing support to the government against a rebellion but not completely crushing it) would not be classified as a failure when, five years after 

it had retreated, the government it had supported was put down by the 

opposition, particularly if the aim of the intervenors was not the complete 

annihilation of the rival force. Also, intervenors’ preferences may change 

and, if they had intervened to provide support to the ruling government, 

they may decide not to do so at a later date when the same government is 

under threat, thus leading to the defeat of the previously aided side. 

Intervention objectives vary depending on each specific case, hence 

the time relevance of their success. A period of limited-scope and limitedresources special operations is highly unlikely to be a sufficient indicator 

for the success of multifaceted peacebuilding and state-reconstruction 

missions. A timescale approach may well be applied for humanitarian interventions; however, even in this case, the postconflict development that 

follows peacekeeping missions takes longer than six months or even five 

years. Consideration of the immediate outcomes of interventions gives 

a better perspective on whether or not third parties have been successful in their actions. A situation that falls outside the intervenors’ powers 

to affect may change on the ground. Depending on variations of specific 

objectives in time (e.g., changes in mandates of third-party missions), fluctuating goals and corresponding actions of the same outside forces can 

lead to interchanges of successes and failures.

The empirical gap is clear: the longevity of peace cannot be used as a 

measure of successful intervention when peace is not the primary objective. We cannot attribute the role of a mediator of a peace agreement or an 

arbiter or outside guarantors of peaceful settlements, as Walter argues,19

19 Walter, “The Critical Barrier to Civil War Settlement,” 335–64.
France and Libya in Chad 127

to a third party whose objectives are not to end war but rather to help one 

ethnic group win over another with no further commitment to long-lasting 

peace. Similarly, intervenors tasked with monitoring the situation should 

not be held responsible for the failure to stop conflicts simply because it 

was not their objective.

The way to solve this measurement quagmire is not to assume that peace 

equals success, but rather to view the success of third-party actions by the 

actual fulfillment of their intervention objectives. Thus, to consider outside 

actors successful, they would have to reach their intervention agendas and 

goals. If they have failed to achieve their tasks, they should be viewed as 

unsuccessful. Judging the success of interventions through fulfillment of 

their tasks is a labor-intensive process since, unlike peace as the central 

dependent variable to success, objectives of third parties in each specific case shall be cross-referenced with the actual endstate of their actions. 

To see what had realistically been planned and achieved and to evaluate 

the degree of fulfillment of the objectives would require careful analysis of 

the intervention cases, their participants, courses of actions, and outcomes. 

Such a goal-oriented approach resembles the KPI (key performance indicator) tool for measuring both the financial and nonfinancial performance 

of organizations to evaluate how successfully they have developed within 

a certain period of time. The KPI defines goals and objectives and states 

the parameters of their successful implementation.20 Unlike the KPI method, which correlates planned parameters with actual output indicators, the 

goal-oriented approach has a more stringent view on the successes of interventions and measures them in binary absolute, or integer, values, not in 

fractions (either “yes” or “no”).

The goal-oriented approach is not free from its own fallacies that are 

related to the nature of the phenomenon—goals and objective of the intervenors—and may not necessarily be known to a researcher. The publicly 

stated objectives may (and, in some cases, would) differ from the ones pur20 For information on KPI and performance measurement systems see, among others, David Parmenter, 

Key Performance Indicators (KPI): Developing, Implementing, and Using Winning KPIs (Hoboken, NJ: 

John Wiley & Sons, Inc., 2007); Jeff Smith, The K.P.I. Book: The Ultimate Guide to Understanding the Key 

Performance Indicators of Your Business (West Midlands, UK: Insight Training & Development Limited, 

2001); Wayne W. Eckerson, Performance Dashboards: Measuring, Monitoring, and Managing Your Business (Hoboken, NJ: John Wiley & Sons, Inc., 2006); and Fiorenzo Franceschini, Maurizio Galetto, and 

Domenico Maisano, Management by Measurement: Designing Key Indicators and Performance Measurement Systems (London: Springer-Verlag, 2007).
128 The Crisis of the African State

sued in the conflict fields. Intervenors and their governments (usually the 

case with unilateral intervenors) may have hidden agendas they endeavor to 

reach while presenting to their own constituencies and to the international 

community more peaceful intentions. However, this is a rewarding exercise 

since it would enrich the discourse on international security and conflict resolution, at large, and foreign interventions in ethnic conflicts, in particular.

Chad: The Never-Ending Chaos

In many respects, the conflict in Chad after its independence in 1960 until 

relative peace of the early 1990s stands out among other ethnic conflicts 

in Africa and elsewhere. Relatively understudied, the Chadian civil war 

is notable for its unparalleled duration and the interests of the external 

power players. Although not as intensely violent as other cases of ethnic 

strife, such as in Somalia and Rwanda, the Chadian civil war remains one 

of the most protracted in the post-Cold War era. Nearly two generations 

of Chadians were born and lived through the constant threat of numerous 

rebellions and multiple foreign interventions tearing the country apart. Like 

most of the northern/central African nations, Chad had been a French colony, which played a determining factor in most of its post-independence 

political dynamics. To understand the causes of the civil wars in Chad and 

the rationales for the foreign interventions, it is necessary to begin the discussion of Chad’s history right after independence. 

Although mostly deprived of valuable resources, such as oil, gas, gold, 

and gems, Chad is well situated along the major trans-Saharan crossroads, 

facilitating the development of trade and crafts, as well as the trafficking 

of slaves to Europe and beyond. Ethnic, environmental, and religious fragmentation is a distinctive feature of contemporary Chadian society. The 

country is divided into northern, central, and southern parts with about 

200 ethnic groups21 who speak more than 100 different languages.22 In 

1916, Chad joined the French Equatorial Africa, a federation with three 

French colonies to the south: Ubangi-Shari, Moyen-Congo, and Gabon. In 

1920, the country became a separate French colony. French rule in Chad 

was characterized by strong favoritism toward Christian southerners over 

21 Jean Chapelle, Le Peuple Tchadien (Paris: Hartman, 1980), reprinted in The World Almanac and Book 

of Facts, ed. Mark S. Hoffman (New York: World Almanac, 1993), 741. 22 Donald G. Morrison, Robert C. Mitchell, and John N. Paden, Understanding Black Africa: Data and 

Analysis of Social Change and Nation Building (St. Paul, MN: Paragon House, 1989), 412.
France and Libya in Chad 129

the Muslim northerners, and the settlers over the pagan nomads. The modus operandi of the colonial power created an unmendable gap between 

the more developed south and the less advanced north. The social and 

political segmentation of Chadian society that happened exactly along 

these geographic and religious lines was at the heart of most subsequent 

internal rivalries. As Mario Azevedo and Emmanuel Nnadozie described, 

“[T]he French administration reinforced polarization between North and 

South through the constant use of contrasting terminology: chrétien

(Christian) versus musulman (Muslim); sudiste (southerner) versus nordiste

(northerner) . . .”23 Subsequently, this geographic and religious stratification created regional political-economic gaps—the underdeveloped north 

(called Tchade Inutile by the French) lagged behind the industrially advanced and better-educated south (Tchade Utile). As a result, southerners 

occupied the best administrative positions and enjoyed political and economic dominance over the rest of the country after Chad’s independence. 

The process of decolonization was quite painful for Chadian society. It 

left the country with an essentially traditional and import-oriented economy, insignificant industrial sector, cotton-dominated agriculture, and an 

inadequate infrastructure. The turbulence arising from local politics and the 

fragmentation of the population into separate and sometimes conflicting 

groups along ethnic, religious, and regional lines aggravated economic 

hardships. This population divide led to the creation of geographically and 

ethnically oriented political parties after the end of WWII: the Parti Progressiste Tchadien or the Chadian Progressive Party (PPT), representing southern 

interests, and the Union Démocratique Tchadien or the Chadian Democratic Union (UDT), which was an influential local branch of Charles de Gaulle’s 

Rassemblement du Peuple Français or Rally of the French People (RPF). By 

August 1960, Chadian independence, the PPT, and the politicians from the 

south generally dominated the Chadian politics. 

On 11 August 1960, François Tombalbaye of the PPT became the first 

president of Chad. Faced with the daunting task of consolidating a divided 

society, Tombalbaye used substantial French support, including numerous 

French advisors in governmental posts and allowing France to control most 

of the nation’s financial operations. This way, France managed to retain its 

“statutory” patronage over its former colonial land. Not only did the Chad23 Mario J. Azevedo and Emmanuel U. Nnadozie, Chad: A Nation in Search of Its Future (Boulder, CO: 

Westview Press, 1998), 38.
130 The Crisis of the African State

ians, according to Virginia Thompson and Richard Adloff, “continue . . . to 

look upon France as their natural protector and source of aid,”24 but France 

also viewed Chad as an essential component of its prestige and external 

security. This relationship was reflected in numerous agreements signed 

between France and nearly all the Chadian governments.

One such legal mechanism that kept France in Chad was the bilateral 

“Assistance Agreement” signed in August 1960. According to this treaty, 

France undertook the responsibility to “provide . . . [Chad] with the assistance it requires to achieve the goals of economic and social advancement 

. . . [by] carrying out studies, supplying equipment, sending experts and 

technicians, training personnel, and granting financial aid.”25 Within another treaty, this time the 1966–67 multilateral Agreement and Conventions 

to Maintain Order in African Malagasy States signed between France and 

the governments of Chad, Madagascar, Congo, Gabon, Côte d’Ivoire, 

and Niger,26 France obtained the right to intervene both indirectly and 

directly to uphold domestic law and order in these countries, if required. 

While indirect help from the French included the provision of logistics and 

communications support, direct assistance gave the French the right to intervene on behalf of the requesting government as the legitimate powers 

of the countries in question. In case the French military was needed, their 

“national forces although remaining under the authority of their direct command, temporarily and locally are included into the French command for 

the duration of the operations.”27 The French government was also entitled 

to “to use its forces for keeping order in one State . . . maintained in another 

State.”28

Another bilateral agreement on French technical military assistance 

allowed Chad to seek French support in establishing their interior forces—

Gendarmerie and National Army. Article 5 of this agreement bound the 

Chadian government to seeking “assistance exclusively from the French 

Republic in respect of the maintenance and further provision of equipment 

24 Virginia Thompson and Richard Adloff, Conflict in Chad (Berkeley, CA: University of California, 1981), 

12.

25 Assistance Agreement, signed at Fort-Lamy on 11 August 1960, France and Chad, U.N.T.S. 11745, 

http://treaties.un.org/doc/Publication/UNTS/Volume%20821/volume-821-I-11745-English.pdf. 

26 Accords et Conventions de Maintien de l’Ordre dans les etats Africains et Malgashes [Agreement and 

Conventions to Maintain Order in African Malagasy States] 1966–1967, http://www.rue89.com/2008/02/03

/laccord-secret-qui-lie-la-france-au-tchad.

27 Ibid.

28 Ibid.
France and Libya in Chad 131

and supplies for its armed forces.”29 All similar legal frameworks, including 

more than 20 agreements and treaties, were directed at normalizing relations between a former colony and its colonial metropolis. 

Tombalbaye’s “one-man-only” rule soon antagonized a majority of the 

population and gave birth to the powerful opposition within other ethnic and clan groups. Tombalbaye was from a southern Sara30 group and 

allotted the majority of the administrative positions to his clans’ kin and 

southerners, in general, thus squandering his legitimacy through repressive tactics and regional favoritism. Heavy-handed policies against other 

groups exacerbated their grievances, and the northern Muslim religious 

leaders and warlords, each with ethnic-based agendas and supporters, 

began to openly challenge Tombalbaye’s rule. The opposition increasingly 

used traditional loyalties and clan-based enmities to condemn the ruling 

southerners and to gain popular support among their own adherents. Popular dissatisfaction steadily grew. Alleged or real coups were uncovered, 

prevented, or disrupted. The government faced increased oppression of 

all layers of the population, even including president’s own Sara group representatives, who became dissatisfied with the internal division of wealth. 

One of the very first rebellions originated in the northern parts of Chad 

in 1966 and developed into a major political actor in subsequent domestic 

conflicts: the FLT (Front de Libération du Tchad [Liberation Front of Chad]). 

The FLT was later renamed FROLINAT (Front de Libération Nationale du 

Tchad [National Liberation Front of Chad]) with a strong military component 

that united those dissatisfied with Tombalbaye’s governance. However, it 

suffered from a lack of common political will and vision, the absence of 

a specific and concrete political platform, and only vague plans for future 

governance. Its political goals and objectives were too broad, overly ambiguous, and overarchingly ambitious. Another weak point of the FROLINAT, 

as Sam Nolutshungu notes, was that it “. . . had always been highly regionalized in its command structure and its regional wings were of different ethnic 

composition.”31 Ethnic fragmentation among its members was worsened 

by diversities in personal loyalties and uneven access of various clans to 

29 Agreement Concerning Technical Military Assistance (with annex), signed at Fort-Lamy on 11 August 

1960, France and Chad, U.N.T.S. 11741, http://treaties.un.org/doc/Publication/UNTS/Volume%20821

/volume-821-I-11741-English.pdf.

30 Refers to the largest ethnic group of non-Muslims in southern Chad.

31 Sam C. Nolutshungu, Limits of Anarchy: Intervention and State Formation in Chad (Charlottesville, VA: 

University of Virginia Press, 1996), 97.
132 The Crisis of the African State

the top political leadership. The patchy nature of the rebellion significantly 

affected successes and failures of future foreign interventions in Chad. 

Three major military groups with separate agendas constructed the core 

of FROLINAT. The FLA (First Liberation Army), which later became the “Volcan Army,” was led by Abba Siddick and was largely composed of ethnic 

Arabs. Its internal rival was the Second Liberation Army, or the FAN (Forces Armées du Nord [Armed Forces of the North]), which was probably the 

most influential group and enjoyed strong support from Chad’s immediate 

neighbor, Libya. FAN was led by Hissène Habré (from Gorane clan) and 

Goukouni Oueddi (the son of a derdei, the Chadian spiritual leader exiled 

by Tombalbaye in Libya). The Third Liberation Army (later called the Popular 

Movement for the Liberation of Chad) mainly operated in the west-central 

Kanem District and did not represent a significant force.

An interesting fact about FROLINAT was that, while originating in the 

Muslim Toubou region of the Borkou-Ennedi-Tibesti (BET) and uniting predominantly Muslims, it never actually wanted to secede from the rest of 

country. On the contrary, it had a very centric position and advocated for 

a unified Chad. This wish to keep the country intact and homogenous was 

quite rational; as Nolutshungu notes, there was “little for FROLINAT to gain 

from pulling out of the Republic, the least prosperous and economically 

least promising North, and certainly not when it had a realistic chance of 

taking the whole country.”32 Secession of a less developed northern region 

would make it susceptible to the parochial interests of Libya, which, since 

the very arrival of Qaddafi to power in 1969, wanted to annex northern 

Chad. Such Libyan aspirations were well known to FROLINAT leaders, who 

would find themselves as regional heads under the Libyan power should 

secession occur, which stood quite far from their aims.

French Interventions 

Gradually FROLINAT showed ambitions that reached far beyond mere 

control over the Muslim north: they wanted the whole country by gaining 

significant territorial control in the north and advancing in the BET and 

the Wadai provinces. The Chadian Army stationed there was mainly composed of southerners who were viewed by the local Muslims sympathetic to 

FROLINAT as aliens who were fighting on hostile territory. Unable to cope 

32 Nolutshungu, Limits of Anarchy, 61.
France and Libya in Chad 133

with the increasing disturbances in the north, Tombalbaye invited France 

to step in and nip the rebellion advances in the bud. France promptly responded by sending an expeditionary force, the aim of which was “to make 

possible the reinstallation of the Chadian administration in the BET”33—a mission narrow both geographically and operationally in scope. The primary 

aim of the intervention was short-term salvaging of the Chadian postcolonial government from the internal political turbulence and possible toppling 

down of the Muslim forces. Neither Tombalbaye nor the French government 

had the ultimate goal to completely crush the revolt; the former feared mass 

retaliation from the northern provinces, and the later was not prepared to 

engage in a costly and lengthy war far away from its borders.

The intervention was conducted in two stages. The first stage began in 

August 1968 and lasted for three months. France sent a limited number of 

troops that, by the end of intervention, amounted to 2,000 French Marines. 

After a series of military clashes with the rebels, the marines succeeded in 

retaking the government outposts in the north, which had been held under 

siege by FROLINAT since March of that year. The second phase began in 

April 1969 and was considerably larger in terms of the personnel and resources involved. The intervention officially ended in June 1971, however, 

approximately 1,200 French military personnel remained in Chad to train 

the national army—the FAT (Forces Armées Tchadienne [or Chadian Armed 

Forces]), which was about twice as large as the French contingent—altogether about 2,700 infantry and air force members.34

The French intervention suppressed the revolt in the central and eastern 

parts of the country, curbing the threat from the BET, in general, and Tibesti, in particular. FROLINAT’s early gains in the north had been reversed; its 

southward advances were thwarted and it was unable to recapture most 

of the previously occupied regions. Participation in direct clashes with 

FROLINAT by FAT also raised the battle morale of its soldiers and gave 

them the feeling of being backed up by a major regional power. In sum, the 

French, according to Nolutshungu, “progressively weakened FROLINAT’s 

influence in this region and permanently deprived the Center-East of its 

leading role in the rebellion.”35 Battlefield losses also created significant 

disorganization within FROLINAT’s internal structure. The divide within its 

33 Ibid., 71.

34 Ibid., 69.

35 Ibid., 63.
134 The Crisis of the African State

political structure as well as in its rank and file grew even deeper and made 

the whole movement feeble and more susceptible to outside pressure.

After the intervention, France insisted upon conducting administrative 

reforms aimed at decentralizing state authority and shifting power to the 

provincial authorities and traditional community leaders. In doing so, France 

was promoting its own completely rational objective. While being aware 

that the rebellion was far from over, France feared that further worsening of 

the situation in northern Chad might lead to another call from Tombalbaye 

for intervention, which would be difficult not to accept. Based on the idea of 

its own democratic governance as a precondition for civil peace, France advocated for power-sharing mechanisms in Chad that would foster national 

reconciliation, increase the quality of public administration, and improve 

relations between northern and southern parts of the country. The overall 

purpose was satisfaction of the diverse (and sometimes conflicting) viewpoints of the population to prevent future discontent and possible renewal 

of rebellion.

Following French recommendations, the central authorities in N’Djamena, 

the capital of Chad, started negotiations with local chiefs. As a result, it managed to improve local tax collection practices and release some political 

prisoners. Unfortunately, these reforms turned out to be only visionary and 

failed to address the fundamental problems of Chadian society: high regionalization, poor economy, and political instability. Nothing had been 

done to improve the domestic political climate and single-party dominance; Tombalbaye essentially remained the sole ruler of Chad. 

Dissatisfaction also grew within the FAT, which was feeling a sense of 

pride due to its recent successful operations against FROLINAT and wanted to play an active role in the political life of the country. Tombalbaye, for 

his part, feared the growth of the political power in the army and started 

reshuffling the army ranks and arresting the most intractable military officers on suspicion of organizing coups. The army eventually revolted and, 

on 13 April 1975, Tombalbaye was killed during the mutiny. General Félix 

Malloum—another southerner but with strong kinship ties to the north and a 

former government critic who was briefly imprisoned by Tombalbaye—became the second president of the country.

Malloum formed the Conseil Suprême Militaire (Supreme Military Council, or CSM), bringing in northerners in large numbers, which marked the 

beginning of the subsequent shift from southern to northern political 
France and Libya in Chad 135

dominance of the country. Soon the CSM became largely Muslim, having 

more representatives from northern and eastern Chad than the rest of the 

country. With independence from any outside influence, especially from 

pro-Tombalbaye France, as its top priority, the new Chadian government, 

as Nolutshungu stresses, became increasingly “militar[istic] . . . with only a 

few civilians occupying fairly minor ministerial positions.”36

Like his predecessor, Malloum strengthened ties with France in the Agreement on Cultural Co-Operation between the Government of the French 

Republic and the Government of the Republic of Chad signed on 6 March 

1976. The agreement envisaged cooperation between the two countries in 

the areas of education and research, technical education; mutual recognition of diplomas issued by Chad and France; fostering of cultural exchanges 

and training courses; and the establishment of libraries, research centers, 

cultural facilities.37 According to another treaty—the Agreement on Technical Military Cooperation between the Government of the French Republic 

and the Government of the Republic of Chad—France became responsible 

for “. . . provision of the French military personnel required for organizing 

the military forces of Chad and their training.”38 France pledged to keep 

its military in the country for a fixed period that it deemed necessary. This 

clause allowed France to withdraw from Chad at its own discretion, which 

also gave some leverage to the Chadian government. In accordance with 

Article 4, the French forces were to abstain from participation in “operations 

during wartime nor in maintenance or enforcing law and order.”39 France 

also undertook the responsibility to provide military equipment and logistical support to the Chadian military and to train its officers at its military 

educational institutions.40

Notwithstanding French political, military, and economic backing, problems with the Malloum government soon surfaced. The fact was that the 

majority of the Chadians were not supportive of Malloum. Even during times 

of opposition, he was neither a prominent national leader nor a charismatic 

figure and did not enjoy mass public support. The people did not support 

36 Ibid., 94.

37 Agreement on Cultural Co-Operation between the Government of the French Republic and the Government of the Republic of Chad, 1976, U.N.T.S.

38 Agreement on Technical Military Cooperation between the Government of the French Republic and 

the Government of the Republic of Chad, 1976, U.N.T.S.

39 Ibid.

40 Ibid.
136 The Crisis of the African State

him personally; they were merely against Tombalbaye as such. Being neither potent reformers nor skilled administrators, the CSM leadership could 

not retain their authority, legitimacy, and popularity from the first days of 

the coup and largely failed to transform their initial gains into longer-term 

political stability. Gradually, Malloum’s governance resembled that of his 

predecessor. He seized control of all branches of government and banned 

almost all political activities, including the National Union of Chadian Workers, and further prohibited strikes.

Under such circumstances, FROLINAT became the organization that united the opposition against CSM. Feeling considerable liberty in their actions 

with no large French force around, FROLINAT successfully reestablished alternative administrations in outlying areas to compete with N’Djamena. In 

the aftermath of defeats in 1968–71, the rebel movement split as a result of 

chronic internal rivalry between Goukouni and Habré. The former, being 

generally receptive to Libyan interests, did not want FROLINAT to fight on 

two fronts: against N’Djamena and against Libya, who had its own stakes in 

domestic political developments in Chad.

Relations between Chad and Libya resembled those among amiable yet 

antagonistic neighbors. The strained nature of their interactions was born 

out of centuries of ethnic, religious, and commercial interactions. The countries shared similar colonial pasts—Chad being a colony of France and Libya 

of Italy—and the rivalry between the colonial powers framed the relations 

between their former satellites. Even from the beginning of the twentieth 

century, when it was ruled by the Ottoman Empire, Libya attempted to exercise its influence over Chad. During the colonial period, a decisive event 

laid the basis for future interventions with Chad. In 1935, under pressure 

from fascist Germany, France was forced to change its administrative borders in Chad in favor of its colonial next-door neighbor, Benito Mussolini’s 

Italy, which held what is now independent Libya. As a result of these arrangements, the Libya-Chad boundary was relocated about 100 kilometers 

south across the Aouzou Strip, a 100,000 square kilometer portion of northern Chad known for its uranium deposits. After mutual independence from 

their respective colonial powers, Libya attempted to retain the strip by stationing troops in the region. 

The Libyan presence did not trouble Goukouni much; for him, the top priority was defeating the central government and then possibly ousting Libya 

from Aouzou. In contrast, Habré objected to cooperation with Libya, who he 
France and Libya in Chad 137

considered an occupying force. Another significant rift within FAN happened 

when Habré kidnapped a German and two French citizens and subsequently 

murdered a French security forces officer who came to negotiate a ransom. 

While Goukouni wanted to free the hostages, fearing retaliation from the Europeans, Habré insisted on keeping them as long as possible to renegotiate 

ransom. Finally, the French managed to release the hostages after holding 

direct talks with Habré, which outraged Malloum. At first, he ordered the remaining French forces to leave in retaliation for their alleged connections 

with the rebellion but then, because of the continuing volatility, Malloum 

decided to keep several hundred French soldiers in the country and renegotiated a series of military accords to ensure emergency aid from France.

Urged by African heads of state and French advisors to provide for 

power-sharing political arrangements that would prevent future instability, Malloum attempted to bring Habré and Goukouni into the joint 

government. However, they soon clashed with each other, and eventually with Malloum. While Habré’s troops engaged Malloum’s forces in the 

north, Goukouni defeated them in the central parts of the country and 

threatened N’Djamena. To shore up his position, Malloum offered a formal alliance to Habré, which was embodied in the fundamental charter, 

forming the coalition government in August 1978. Malloum became president and Habré prime minister of the new government.

The attempted coalition government, however, failed to resolve the 

conflict now brought to the national level. Feeling marginalized in the new 

government, Goukouni was now against Malloum and Habré altogether. 

Composed of three armies and with a new name—the People’s Armed Forces (or Forces Armées Populaires [FAP])—by 1978, FAP held the southern 

provinces and, in April, approached N’Djamena.

The situation became explosive not only for Malloum, who was faced 

with the prospect of losing power completely in event of a successful FAP 

action, but also for the French. France feared the growing strength of FAP, 

as a Muslim force with the backing of Libya might challenge the commonly 

accepted view that Africa was under French political, economic, linguistic, 

religious, and cultural influence. They were highly suspicious of the links between FAP and Libya and that the latter might exploit this situation—in which 

the central government was weak and the opposition was growing stronger 

every day—for its own benefit. The French government was also afraid that 

FAP’s advances would jeopardize their secure access to uranium resources 
138 The Crisis of the African State

in Niger, which were vital for France’s nuclear force de frappe, the French 

nuclear weapons complex of nuclear weapons deterrence. 

The second French intervention in April–May 1978 in support of the government was a small-scale and short-term rapid airlift of 1,700 troops with 

battle aircraft. France created a buffer zone around N’Djamena and heavily 

bombarded the advancing rebel troops. These actions showed the opposition that the government—even composed of former enemies—enjoyed the 

strong support of France, who was committed to retaining its influence in 

the country by keeping the ruling regime in power. As was the case in their 

first intervention, the French government refrained from deep engagement 

into Chadian politics and did not aim to completely defeat the FAP, nor 

were they prepared to act as external guarantors of peace and statebuilding among various Chadian warring factions. The scope and time-limited 

intervention, however, fulfilled its objectives.

The French presence during this time was restricted to N’Djamena and 

used minimal resources to achieve its limited goals. The French intervention dissuaded the FAP from further attacks on government forces and the 

capital, and pushed the rebels back northward to the province of Ati. These 

French actions revealed an important modus operandi that would reappear 

in all future French interventions in Chad: persistent conformity to the goals 

of the recipient of its aid—the government. A decade after its first operation 

in 1968, France kept the country’s leadership in power, even though this 

government now included Habré, the actor against whom France had previously fought and with whom it had uneasy relations due to the hostage 

situation. Ultimately, for France, who actually held in power in Chad was not 

so important; it still provided military aid to the central government, which 

was the strongest out of most of the militant groups in the country.

After the victory, the Malloum/Habré coalition, at first, seemed to manage consolidation of its power on the basis of apparent similarities among 

the interests of its leaders. Both of them opposed Libyan involvement in 

Chad and managed to reach consensus about rejecting the idea of a federal form of government that would aggravate existing ethnic divisions. 

At first, they shared a common vision on a secular state where the Arabic 

language would be given the same status as French, thus keeping Muslim 

aspirations of the north, backed by Libya, to a minimum. Finally, Malloum 

and Habré argued equally for a strong state-controlled economy. 

The problems within the coalition government began when Habré, 
France and Libya in Chad 139

among other things, demanded that more governmental positions be 

given to northerners and argued for the promotion of Arabic to be used instead of French in radio broadcasting. He also refused to surrender the FAN 

forces loyal to him under the FAT’s control and insisted on using them as his 

personal guards, which led to the situation with “de-jure two armies in . . . [a] 

city of barely quarter of a million souls, one belonging to the president and 

the other to the prime minister, both armed by France.”41

The tension further escalated when an exchange of anti-Malloum and 

anti-Habré pamphlets led to clashes between college students supporting 

rival factions. The final push toward another civil war, this time between Malloum and Habré, came about when three of Habré’s ministers’ passports 

were seized at the airport, which triggered escalating provocations. The 

major fighting, known as the first battle for N’Djamena, occurred on 12 February 1979. Interestingly enough, the French military contingent remained 

neutral and did not take any significant part in the conflict between the two 

governmental factions. According to French reasoning, the winner of the 

warring governmental factions would form another government with a new 

president, which is, actually, what France always did before. 

At the same time, France tacitly favored Habré, notwithstanding his kidnapping of French civilians and assassination of a French officer. On only 

one occasion when French pilots contracted by FAT attacked FAN, did Habré manage to thwart the air raids by threatening retaliation against French 

civilians. This was essentially one of the most decisive factors in the confrontation; as Azevedo and Nnadozie claim, “Had the French not forced the 

Chadian government to stop air raids against enemy positions in February 

1979, Malloum’s troops would have prevailed on the ground.”42 Thus, although the French government remained formally neutral, protecting only 

“. . . the central bank, the airport (where its base was), the urban telephone 

system (there were scarcely any telephones in African quarters), and the 

Israeli-built international hotel . . .”43 their operational inaction ultimately led 

to the collapse of Malloum’s CSM.

Demoralized from the abandonment of their French supporters, the FAT 

retreated from the capital. This withdrawal was followed by mutual retaliations between the retreating southerners and the advancing northerners. 

41 Nolutshungu, Limits of Anarchy, 106. 42 Azevedo and Nnadozie, Chad, 53. 43 Nolutshungu, Limits of Anarchy, 114.
140 The Crisis of the African State

During the battle of N’Djamena, about 1,000 people were killed and more 

than 80,000 fled the capital. In 10 days, Goukouni’s FAP seized the opportunity offered by the resulting chaos to enter the capital. By March 1979, the 

struggle led to the de facto partition of Chad: the FAN controlled the north, 

the capital was under Goukouni’s control, and Malloum’s troops occupied 

the five southern prefectures.

Postintervention Peacebuilding Attempts 

Clashes between Muslims and Christians shifted the conflict from the north 

deep into the south and led to numerous reconciliation efforts by foreign 

governments. Four peace conferences with the aim of mediation for neighboring states—primarily Niger—were held from March to August 1979.44

However, their effectiveness was limited. As ascertained by Thompson and 

Adloff, the belligerent “. . . leaders . . . wanted more power than they could 

acquire through a coalition administration and . . . believed that they had 

the strength to seize it.”45 Although deployment of a peacekeeping force 

was envisaged at all these conferences, and some military forces (800 Nigerians, for instance) were dispatched, according to Nolutshungu, “they were 

neither an effective substitute for a police force nor able to disarm the contending factions. They were . . . too few to dissuade a determined aggressor 

nor to decide the outcome of any battle between the indigenous armed 

political groups—and even less able to impose Nigeria’s choice of leader 

of the Chadians.”46 Under such circumstances, the Nigerian peacekeepers 

could not offer credible third-party guarantees of peace in return for their 

observance of a peace agreement.

The most important of these conferences was the last one, held in Lagos in 

26–27 May 1979, which managed to include all the parties and political and 

military movements in Chad. Apart from stressing the need for demilitarization, the release of prisoners, amnesty, neutrality in radio broadcasting, and 

the introduction of a peacekeeping force, the participants agreed to form 

the GUNT (Gouvernement d’Union Nationale de Transition [Transitional Government of National Unity]), which would reconcile the belligerent forces. 

GUNT was the major achievement of the reconciliation efforts as it laid down 

44 The Kano Accords (I and II) were held in Nigeria; with the failure of both agreements, the Lagos Accords (I and II) were created.

45 Thompson and Adloff, Conflict in Chad, 91. 46 Nolutshungu, Limits of Anarchy, 124.
France and Libya in Chad 141

the grounds for subsequent postconflict reconstruction and peacebuilding. 

Another positive development was that the distribution of cabinet posts in 

GUNT was regionally balanced, allowing for rudimentary power-sharing 

mechanisms. GUNT tried to incorporate all the factional leaders: Goukouni 

became the country’s president; Kamougue (a southerner and the leader of 

the Third Liberation Army) became vice president; and Habré, became minister of defense.

From the very start, however, GUNT suffered from problems similar to 

those of the CSM; an inherent mistrust among its leaders caused the failure 

to achieve political cohesion. Politically, apart from Habré, all the leading 

roles in the new government were given to pro-Libyan people, thus antagonizing Habré, one of the main figures of the anti-Libyan movement. 

The personal rift between Goukouni and Habré during the early years of 

FROLINAT continued in GUNT. After installing the new government, Goukouni and Habré maintained separate spheres of influence and occupied 

different parts of N’Djamena. GUNT was also inefficient in implementing 

power divisions of Lagos, Nigeria, as Thompson and Adloff noted, “. . . none 

of the key provisions of . . . [Lagos] had been carried out, the cabinet had 

met only once, the southern prisoners had not been liberated, and none of 

the African peacekeeping forces had yet arrived in Chad.”47

The confrontation between the two leaders led to another civil war that 

started in March 1980 and lasted for nine months without much change 

in the standings of the combatants. In December 1980, the second battle 

for N’Djamena took place. In addition to the FAP and FAN, Kamougue’s 

southern Third Liberation Army also reached the suburbs of the capital 

but was pushed back after suffering heavy losses. Almost the entire civilian population of N’Djamena had left the city. Even when 600 Congolese 

peacekeepers had finally arrived, they, along with the French troops already 

present, were unable to bring peace to the city, which was divided into several sectors controlled by opposing factions. Fearing that he might lose the 

war, Goukouni called for Libya to intervene.

Libyan Interventions

A number of factors translated into the longtime Libyan interests in Chad. 

For Libya, the quest for dominance over Chad was a mix of rational calculus 

47 Ibid., 97.
142 The Crisis of the African State

and historical support for the Muslim north. There was a reported cache 

of minerals in the Aouzou Strip, including uranium, that Libya wanted to 

possess. At the same time, Libya, having once been a colony, wanted to 

liberate itself from its past by becoming a colonial power and colonizing 

Chad. Nolutshungu claimed that, like France, Libya was interested in establishing “[a]t most, a pro-Libyan government, similar in ideology and 

willing to accept the fait accompli of Libyan incorporation of the Aouzou 

Strip would be desirable; better still, it should unite with Libya and be led 

by men in whom Gaddafi had confidence.”48 Additionally, Libya hoped to 

reduce the European presence in Africa and project Islamic influence into 

the Sahel binding Chad and Sudan. Thus, by weakening Chad’s ties with 

the West and reducing African dependence on the Western nation-state 

system, Qaddafi hoped to fulfill his dream of a unified Muslim North Africa. 

Since the Chadian postcolonial government, highly dependent on France 

both economically and militarily, did not fit into this image, Qaddafi established alliances with several opposition leaders, including Goukouni, Ahmat 

Acyl (a Chadian of Arab descent and head of CDR [Conseil Démocratique 

Révolutionnaire, or Democratic Revolutionary Council]), and Kamougué—all 

of whom could foster Qaddafi’s interests in the Chadian government and 

shape their policies in accordance with his views.

In June 1980, GUNT and Libya signed the Treaty of Friendship and Alliance,49 which allowed the Chadian government to treat Libya just as its 

previous governments had treated France: to call upon it every time the independence, territorial integrity, or internal security of the country should 

be jeopardized. The treaty defined Chad and Libya as “two fraternal people” 

with “common destiny and common objectives and aspirations” united by 

“deep-rooted spiritual, economic, human, and cultural ties.”50 In accordance 

with Article 1, “The two Parties shall defend each other if either Party or both 

Parties are exposed to direct or indirect foreign aggression” and that “any 

aggression against one Party [shall] constitute aggression against the other.”51 In Article 6, Libya also pledged to make its “economic, material, and 

cultural resources available for the economic and military reconstruction 

48 Ibid., 147.

49 Treaty of Friendship and Alliance between the Socialist People’s Libyan Arab Jamahiriya and the Republic of Chad, 15 June 1980, U.N.T.S.

50 Ibid.

51 Ibid.
France and Libya in Chad 143

of Chad.”52 For its part, Chad committed itself “not to permit the presence 

of any foreign base or colonialist, imperialist troops in its national territory,” (mostly referring to France) and had “the right to call upon the Socialist 

People’s Libyan Arab Jamahiriya for assistance in the event of a threat to its 

independence, territorial integrity, or internal security.”53

Through this treaty, Libya claimed to support GUNT, which was, according to the 1979 Lagos Accord, the legitimate government of the country. 

Using this treaty agreement as a pretext, Libyan troops entered Chad in November 1980 at the invitation of Goukouni. Altogether, between 7,000 and 

9,000 Libyan troops with tanks and self-propelled artillery, plus 4,500–5,000 

soldiers from the Islamic Legion54 rapidly occupied posts in northern and 

central Chad.

The result of the Libyan intervention was the landslide success in suppressing FAN and bringing GUNT to power. Starting from northern Chad, 

the united front of the GUNT and the Libyan-backed Islamic Legion gained 

control of N’Djamena on 15 December 1980 as a result of the second battle for N’Djamena. The outcome of the Libyan intervention was devastating 

for the FAN, which lost nearly all its major battles. In one month, FAN was 

defeated and Habré was forced to flee to Sudan and reorganize his forces 

in Abéché, the fourth largest city in Chad. As a concession for its support, 

Libya made Goukouni agree to the merger of the two countries in January 1981. This was soon, however, disavowed by GUNT after pressure from 

France and a number of African states that were unreceptive to and even 

feared such Libyan “enlargement.”

Apart from gaining tangible benefits for itself in the form of institutionalizing Libyan presence in the country and continuous control over the 

Aouzou Strip, to its credit, the intervention also helped normalize the internal situation in Chad. According to Nolutshungu, “Libya’s . . . presence 

helped to restrain clashes among GUNT factions, facilitated the withdrawal 

of forces from the capital and their redeployment elsewhere, and the disarmament of civilians. The Libyan troops were deployed where they were 

most needed, and . . . held back the advantage of Habré’s rapidly constituted forces . . .”55 Libya was also concerned with popular support beyond 

52 Ibid.

53 Ibid.

54 For more information on these Libyan-sponsored, pan-Arab paramilitary forces, see http://www

.soldiers-of-misfortune.com/history/islamic-legion.htm.

55 Nolutshungu, Limits of Anarchy, 155.
144 The Crisis of the African State

the traditional spheres of its influence in the north and in doing so “had 

brought money, thus giving a stimulus to economic life . . .”56

As in 1979, the French abstained from intervening and made no effort 

to support Habré or to fight the Libyans; one reason may have been that 

he was not the “proper” government. Another reason for France’s inaction 

may have been that they did not want to escalate the conflict into an interstate war with Libya. Notwithstanding such a lackadaisical approach to the 

internal situation in Chad, the French government increased their military 

contingent in the adjoining Central African Republic. Such a move would 

have acted as a deterrent force to the Libyans and as a credible signal from 

France that it would have intervened had Libya gone beyond its bounds 

and made any substantial moves infringing upon Chadian statehood as 

such. Libya threatened to impose an oil embargo on Chad, which was in 

all senses illogical as it acted as GUNT’s partner. Eventually, under pressure from the Organisation of African Unity (OAU) and upon the request 

of Goukouni, who feared he might lose the country completely to Libya, 

Qaddafi withdrew his forces from N’Djamena in November 1981.

Libya’s prompt exit from the conflict scene can be justified in several 

ways. The economic considerations are likely the most plausible explanation. Libya simply could not sustain the cost of widening its intervention to 

cover the whole country. Its southward advances were quite expedient and 

Qaddafi did not envisage a large-scale permanent occupation of a foreign 

country despite his overarching ambitions. Also, in most of Chad, except for 

its northern part, Libya enjoyed little popular support—its troops were even 

more alien to the southern Sara than were their Muslim neighbors. Also, 

it might well have been that Libya wanted to avoid French involvement, 

which Libya would have thought imminent had it showed aspirations to full 

dominance over Chad. Yet another reason could have been that Qaddafi 

wanted to retain an image of a neutral and impartial peacemaker, an ardent 

supporter of the legitimate government, and a consistent follower of its will, 

like France. Qaddafi repeatedly mentioned that his “troops were in Chad at 

the request of the GUNT and its president, and that they would withdraw 

immediately if the Chadian president demands so.”57 Finally, the regional 

geopolitical climate around Chad also could have influenced Libya’s decision to withdraw. Being in Chad for a long time and assuming responsibility 

56 Ibid.

57 Ibid., 156.
France and Libya in Chad 145

for domestic security and, as a consequence, control over the country’s international policy, would mean running the risk of collisions with Chad’s 

anti-Libyan neighbors, including Sudan, Egypt, and Nigeria.

After Libya retreated, the OAU’s Inter-African Force (IAF) of 2,000 Nigerian, 2,000 Zairian, and 800 Senegalese soldiers entered Chad. Because 

of the vague mandate of the peacekeeping force and the hesitations of 

all three countries to openly engage any force, the IAF made no effort to 

block Habré’s military comeback after Libya’s exit. The most decisive factor in abstaining from fighting against Habré was that IAF countries wished 

to prevent Libya from spreading its influence in North Africa, where Habré 

could play an instrumental role.

After his defeat, it took Habré almost a year to regain control of the north. 

In response, GUNT again sought Libyan support but was refused. Qaddafi 

believed that the military advantage was on FAN’s side and that he might 

lose these battles if he openly confronted Habré’s rapidly advancing forces. On an emotional level, Qaddafi was also “hurt” by changes in GUNT’s 

stance regarding the presence of his troops in Chad and the denunciation 

of the merger deal. Eventually, Libya decided against assisting Goukouni 

militarily, which sharply contrasts with the general pattern of French involvement. Facing little resistance from the GUNT or the IAF, for that matter, 

Habré moved toward N’Djamena and, on 7 June 1982, victoriously entered 

the capital and proclaimed himself head of state. 

French and Libyan Interventions

After his defeat, Goukouni did not vanish from the political scene completely. Numbering from 3,000 to 4,000, his own troops were joined by 

the remnants of FAP, FAT, CDR, the First Liberation Army, the Volcan Army, 

and the Western Armed Forces, now united against FAN. The new force—

Armée Nationale de Libération (National Liberation Army or ANL)—had a 

total strength of 12,000 troops. Habré had also regrouped his forces and 

the new Forces Armées Nationales du Tchadiennes (National Armed Forces of Chad or FANT) had an estimated 10,000 troops. At first, Goukouni 

managed to make some progress on the battlefield. In June 1983, after 

a decisive bombing of FANT’s forces by Libya, Goukouni captured FayaLargeau, the largest city in northern Chad. Moving farther south, ANL 

occupied Kalait, Oum-Chalouba, and, finally, Abéché. Unlike in June 1982, 

Libya now decided to assist Goukouni. Qaddafi feared that Habré, if he 
146 The Crisis of the African State

gained momentum, might endanger his possession of the Aouzou Strip.

Habré was also seeking help from the outside, however, without much 

success. Finally, he took command of FANT’s forces. He first liberated 

Abéché four days after the city’s fall, then Faya-Largeau, and finally retook 

the northern posts. Habré’s counterattack in the north led to an inevitable 

collision with the Libyan contingents stationed there. The Libyan force, who 

enjoyed overwhelming superiority in military power (around 4,000–5,000 

troops), tanks, armored personnel carriers, battle aircrafts, self-propelled 

artillery, and multiple rocket launchers, eventually expelled the FANT from 

Faya-Largeau.

Seeing that Chad might fall to Libyan dominance, which France was eager to prevent, it finally decided to intervene. This created a four-player 

intervention game where each of the belligerents had a corresponding 

“patron-state.” This internationalization of the domestic conflict in Chad, 

however, did not escalate into an open conflict between France and Libya, 

since their respective interventions “. . . had some of the characteristics of a 

cooperative game. Each kept to its side of the line of demarcation, France 

unwilling to retake the north for Habré and Libya unwilling to press its military advantage to help the GUNT move toward the capital . . .”58 None of the 

players involved were ready for a tête-à-tête fight and both were afraid of 

taking the Chadian civil war to the level of an international conflict. Therefore, France and Libya separately decided to limit themselves to a mere 

show of force, abstaining from any direct military confrontations on the battleground.

With the aim of preventing Libya from a large-scale and long-term occupation of Faya-Largeau and minimizing its role in Chadian domestic politics, 

in particular, and in the African continent, in general, France initiated Operation Manta (Stingray in French) in August 1983. The operation consisted of 

an airlift of 180 military advisors and equipment, followed by 3,500 troops, 

including air force, Foreign Legion, and airborne personnel. French troops 

used the same tactics as before: they secured N’Djamena and fortified their 

positions near the routes leading to the capital, where the government was 

based. France also tried to separate the belligerents via a no-fly zone on the 

16th parallel to the north in an attempt to halt Libyan bombings.

By 1983, the country was divided into two parts: BET belonged to the 

58 Ibid., 189.
France and Libya in Chad 147

ANL, and the rest of Chad to the FANT. Libya was increasing its presence 

in the region by building new, modern radar stations and bringing in additional troops. The country was on the verge of collapse, and the conflict 

threatened to develop into an international war between France and Libya. 

Seeing this, in September 1984, the two intervenors decided to de-escalate the conflict and pledged to pull French troops from Chad and Libyan 

troops from the contested Aouzou Strip. The promise, however, was fulfilled only by France, who left the country in November in accordance with 

the agreement, while Libya kept 3,000 troops in the BET.

The outcome of the French intervention was to restrain Libya from further 

advances southward and threatening N’Djamena. Operation Manta delivered on the credible threat of punishment to the ANL and its supporter 

(Libya). At the same time, Libya did not want to engage in open conflict 

with France. The no-fly zone helped the FANT strengthen its position in the 

regions immediately adjoining the demarcation line. Finally—although after 

France had retreated, Libya remained in the BET—Operation Manta stalled 

further occupation of the territories beyond the BET. France’s presence also 

led to a rapid increase in the numbers of the FANT and improved the morale of its soldiers because of ANL defections and dissention, among other 

things. At that point, the FANT included around 15,000 personnel from the 

former “Codos Rebellion” in the south.59 As a result, Libya decided to increase its presence in Chad, and the combined ANL-Libyan forces totaled 

10,000 soldiers in Tibesti and Fada.

Libya strengthened its position by building a new airbase and radar stations, which galvanized the French to return in February 1986 with Operation 

Épervier (Sparrowhawk) with 2,500 personnel, including a detachment of 

top-level Jaguar and Mirage attack aircraft. This deployment, however, was 

not an intervention in the full military sense. French troops participated only 

59 Human Rights Watch offers some historical background on the conflict in Chad on its Web site, saying that “Upon his ascension to power, Habré sought to impose his authority in the country’s southern 

region. Habré’s FAN, which had become the regular army and would eventually be called the National 

Armed Forces of Chad (FANT), took over the main southern towns, leading to the emergence of an 

armed, fiercely anti-Habré opposition, the ‘Codos’ (for ‘commandos’). This opposition further incited 

Habré, and the resulting tension gave way to the ‘Black September’ of 1984. . . . Repression against the 

southern opposition turned exceptionally violent, targeting not only the Codos rebels, but also civilians 

and administrative officials suspected of complicity. The rebellion was crushed and the region devastated.” The Codos Rebellion was insignificant for the purposes of this chapter, however, since it had 

neither serious consequences for future political developments in Chad, nor did it cause any third-party 

interventions.
148 The Crisis of the African State

in a few military activities, but instead used “swaggering” tactics to dissuade 

Libyans from attacking N’Djamena and Abéché. The only French force in 

the BET, where active military operations were occurring, was a group of 

150 engineers engaged in demining the territories.

The build-up of the FANT and the French contingent coincided with a 

split within ANL. Acyl was receiving separate assistance from Libya, which 

antagonized other factions. This led to resentment of Goukouni’s own 

forces, especially the FAP, toward Libyan presence in the north and their 

unwillingness to continue the offensive against the FANT. This discord escalated into an open military confrontation between the FAP and the CDR. 

The latter, with Libyan support, forced Goukouni’s men, who accounted for 

around two-thirds of the ANL reserve, to retreat to the mountains. Under 

such circumstances, Goukouni made a reverse move and sided with his old 

rival, the FANT. Such a betrayal to Libya was very much favored by Habré, 

who signed an agreement with the FAP while Goukouni was under house 

arrest in Tripoli in October 1986.

At first, the FAP launched attacks against the CDR but was pushed back 

by the Libyans to the Tibesti Mountains. In December 1986, Libyan armored 

columns attacked the FAP settlements in Tibesti using napalm and poison 

gas, forcing them to retreat. At the same time—with the economic help of 

France and well equipped for desert war with light Toyota pick-ups carrying arms (the so-called “technical”)—the FANT attacked the CDR and Libyan 

troops in Fada. The Libyans, with the Islamic Legion’s heavy armored tanks, 

were not suited for such warfare, where highly maneuverable Toyotas can 

fire antitank missiles and recoilless rifles from close range. Libya’s total losses mounted to 700 dead, 150 war prisoners, and $1 billion worth of military 

equipment.60

This defeat, however, did not stop Qaddafi from making yet another attempt to regain control over the BET. He resumed his offensive in February 

1987 with a total of 11,000 troops without success. The FANT had not only 

crushed the two tank squadrons but also managed to capture the Libyan 

base in the north. The Libyan death toll reached 1,200 and an additional 

450 soldiers were captured, which came as a severe blow to Libya, further 

decreasing the already low morale of its military. Without the hope for intervention from the government or any support from its former Chadian 

60 Azevedo and Nnadozie, Chad, 59.
France and Libya in Chad 149

allies, Libya found itself deeply bogged down in Chad as an occupant, not 

a liberator or helper. Libyan troops were isolated in unfamiliar terrain and, 

with no effective radar systems or an airbase to guide air strikes in support 

of their ground personnel, they could inflict no real harm on highly mobile 

FANT units.

Eventually, suffering heavy losses in personnel and military equipment 

and failing to reach its goal to secure the north for the CDR and to spread its 

influence in the BET, Libya retreated. In turn, the FANT successfully attacked 

the town of Aouzou, urging Libyans to leave their base. Libya retaliated 

by bombing the northern cities occupied by the FANT. At this time, Habré 

appealed to France for intervention, although without success. The French 

government did want to have a presence in Chad yet did not want to intervene in Aouzou, a territory under Libyan dominance. The French Ministry of 

Defence declared that neither French soldiers nor aircraft would intervene 

on behalf of the Chadian government to liberate northern Chad from Libyan occupation and that the 1,000 French troops and aircraft stationed in 

N’Djamena would be used exclusively to defend the capital.

The FANT was left alone and, as a result, was driven out of Aouzou by Libyan air strikes and followed by ground troops mimicking Chad’s own desert 

warfare tactics with the use of Toyota technicals. Habré responded with a surprise attack on the Libyan airbase, killing 1,000 and capturing 300 soldiers 

as well as a considerable number of Libyan fighter aircraft and helicopters. 

Also, France tacitly assisted Habré by establishing an air defense system to 

prevent any further Libyan military action south of the 16th parallel as well 

as bombing the Libyan radar installation at Qadi-Doum. Finally, seeing the 

fruitlessness of further military confrontation, both Habré and Qaddafi suspended fighting. The Chadian and Libyan foreign ministers met in August 

1988, and the two governments agreed to conduct further talks with OAU 

mediation. Chad suspended its attempts to regain the Aouzou Strip, and 

Libya stopped bombing the southern regions of the country. The two states 

subsequently signed an agreement that ended their confrontation, while 

the Aouzou Strip remained in Libyan hands until 1994.61

61 The dispute over the Aouzou Strip between Chad and Libya was taken to the International Court 

of Justice (ICJ) in 1990 for a binding ruling. According to the ICJ decision made on 3 February 1994, 

the land will remain within Chad. The Aouzou Strip was formally transferred from Libya to Chad on 

30 May 1994. See “The Summary of the Summary Judgment of 3 February 1994,” International Court 

of Justice, Territorial Dispute (Libyan Arab Jamahiriya/Chad), http://www.icj-cij.org/docket/index.php?

-sum=424&code=dt&p1=3&p2=3&case=83&k=cd&p3=5.
150 The Crisis of the African State

From 1989 onward, Habré pursued a mix of national reconciliation policies and punishments for faction leaders who openly and actively opposed 

his regime. In domestic politics, he advocated for national integrity and a 

unified state. When faced with internal threats to his regime, he used repression tactics against his political opponents. On the international level, 

Habré expressed a strong preference for French rather than Libyan patronage. France continued to maintain a sizable military and security presence 

in Chad as well as to provide strong economic and financial support.

Meanwhile, inter-religious and interethnic rivalry continued in Chad. 

Collisions among different ethnic groups and clans, especially among the 

representatives of Hadjerai, Zaghawa, and Gorane factions in the central 

government, led to the defection of Idriss Déby—a Zaghawa and one of Habré’s leading generals—to Darfur, Sudan, in April 1989. In December 1990, 

with no opposition from the French military stationed in Chad, Déby successfully occupied N’Djamena and ousted Habré to Senegal. Three months 

later, Déby, supported by his MPS (Mouvement Patriotique du Salut [Patriotic 

Salvation Movement]), became the new president of Chad, ending this era 

of foreign interventions but not necessarily the domestic insecurities.

Analysis of Interventions

The modus operandi of French interventions in Chad developed as a result 

of the intricate interplay of its domestic politics, perceptions of its role on the 

international arena, and the changing nature of the international environment by the 1960s. Ever since its former colony’s independence, France had 

been playing an important role in domestic Chadian politics by supporting its governments in many military, economic, and administrative forms.62

The French presence in Chad was always noticeable; their troops had either physically been present in Chad for a limited time or were stationed 

in neighboring states with the purpose of coming to the aid of the governments at any time. France was the most important supplier of economic aid 

through development assistance, loans, and other grants to support the 

62 According to some sources, the value of French military assistance to the Chadian government from 

1983 to 1987 was around $175 million. During the first half of 1987, all aid, including Operation Épervier, amounted to nearly $100 million. For more information on France’s military and economic role 

in Chad, see Country Data on Chad, http://www.country-data.com/cgi-bin/query/r-2339.html; and 

the 2008 and 2013 versions of “French Government: White Paper on Defense and National Security,” 

Council on Foreign Relations, 29 April 2013, http://www.cfr.org/france/french-government-white-paper

-defense-national-security/p16615. 
France and Libya in Chad 151

Chadian economy. Although no longer a consumer of Chad’s agricultural 

goods, as was the case during colonial times, French economic assistance 

still accounted for a substantial part of the country’s budget.

At the same time, France had its own intervention goals, some of which 

had nothing to do with Chad per se. Important insights into France’s continuous support and presence in Chad were given by Noluchungu: 

In France, the fate of Chad was always linked to the security of 

French influence over the rest of his former colonies in tropical Africa. The kind of domino theory seemed to apply: if one were lost 

. . . others might be lost (or abandoned); if France were unable 

to protect one dependent state, its guarantees to others might 

become less credible. . . . France’s global status as well as its African economic interests and prestige would be undermined.63

So, from a purely realist perspective, by supporting the Chadian (legitimate) 

governments in their struggle with the (illegitimate) opposition, France was 

both reinstating the legitimacy of its involvement in the political lives of its 

former colonies as well as caring for its influence in the region. France considered Chad an inherent component of its security and wanted to maintain 

a stable situation.

Starting in 1968, all subsequent French interventions were consistent 

with France’s roles in international politics throughout the 1960s, known 

as Gaulism (after its prominent president Charles de Gaulle). France had 

to possess the nuclear force de frappe, emphasizing its grandeur in the 

world political arena and fulfilling its special mission of spreading democracy worldwide. In this way, the reasons for French intervention were deeply 

rooted, as Chaigneau noted, in their “need for . . . global presence and 

influence, [with] Africa having a major role to play in such a scheme.”64 Successful international operations of France, especially outside the statutory 

borders of Europe, would affirm its (regional) superpower status and would 

show to the allies in NATO that France was capable of acting independently 

on the international arena (especially when France led the NATO integrated military command in 1966). Also, restoring its international role would 

allow France to redeem itself domestically from the stigma of the German 

63 Nolutshungu, Limits of Anarchy, 11. 64 Pascal Chaigneau, La Politique Militaire de la France en Afrique (French Military Politics in Africa) (Paris: 

CHEAM [Centre des Hautes Études sur l’Afrique et l’Asie Modernes], 1984), 18–19.
152 The Crisis of the African State

occupation during WWII and revive the potency of the country in the eyes 

of its own citizens.

There was yet another reason for French involvement in Africa, and 

specifically in Chad: the desire to limit the influence of pro-Soviet and 

radically Islamist Libya in territory it considered its backyard. France 

opposed Libyan advances in north-central Africa, specifically Chad, 

because Libya might have brought overwhelming “Islamization” into 

the country. Even worse, this would have meant the “Arabization” of 

the Chadian population and a slow decrease in the use of the French 

language, presaging the demise of the French cultural atmosphere 

and mimicking what occurred during the first years of Habré’s rule. As 

a result, France stood to lose the traditional links between the French 

and their former African colonies. The Libyan build-up in the Aouzou Strip also threatened France’s access to the uranium resources of 

neighboring Niger, which were vital for France’s national interests.65

The success of French interventions was largely due to three factors: 

France’s support for the ruling political factions of Chad, the externalization 

of interventions through limited operational involvement, and the institutional approach to interventions. The first variable that characterized the 

continuous pattern of French interventions and that made them largely 

successful in different circumstances was the direction of French support. 

France always channeled its aid to the government that, in most cases, was 

the strongest of all military factions in Chad. This path dependence for 

providing support to the nominal governments of Chad often took paradoxical forms, particularly when former enemies of the government relied 

on continuous French backing once in office. For instance, during the first 

intervention in 1968, France protected Tombalbaye against FROLINAT and 

then it supported Malloum, who overthrew Tombalbaye, against FROLINAT. 

Furthermore, during Operations Manta and Épervier, France assisted Habré, in spite of the fact that the French did not particularly like him due to his 

past anti-France rhetoric and hostile acts against French citizens.

This stance stemmed from the general “paternalistic” attitude that committed France to support its Francophone African states. As Prunier states, 

65 For more on this ongoing issue, see Jacey Fortin, “In Niger, New Disputes over French Uranium Extraction,” International Business Times, 6 February 2013, http://www.ibtimes.com/niger-new-disputes

-over-french-uranium-extraction-1064546; and Mark Tran, “Niger Uranium Mining Dispute a Test Case 

for Use of African Natural Resources,” Guardian, 10 January 2014, http://www.theguardian.com/global

-development/poverty-matters/2014/jan/10/niger-uranium-mining-dispute-african-natural-resources.
France and Libya in Chad 153

France has always considered Africa “le pré carré,” or our own backyard, 

and viewed itself as “a large hen followed by a docile brood of little black 

chicks”66 to be taken care of. France had always been committed to supporting countries with common historical ties. This attitude was galvanized 

by the lingua franca of the continent (French), which played a decisive role 

in keeping France and its former colonies together under the common 

“threat” of Anglo-Saxon influence. With specific reference to Chad, the 

French government remembered the loyal role that the Chadian government played in the Second World War under its ex-governor Félix Eboué 

and were grateful for its support of de Gaulle’s Free France67 at that time. In 

its interventions in independent Chad, France continued to shield Chad’s 

various governments from domestic disturbances in the face of sometimes 

blatantly nondemocratic practices. 

Another reason for supporting the government lay in its purely rational 

calculus. France preferred to maintain security in Francophone Africa and 

protect its economic and political interests in particular states. In most cases, state governments, having a comparative advantage through military 

and economic resources and larger territorial coverage, were stronger than 

the opposition factions and easier to assist by limited outside inputs into 

actions against various rebellions. Also, in terms of legitimacy, it was much 

easier to support nominal governments who had the task of preserving 

security in their respective countries rather than to contribute to the capacities of the opposition who posed threats to security and domestic stability. 

The second factor contributing to the success of French interventions was 

that France always remained an external player. This stance was born out of 

a general postcolonial vision of France limiting its large-scale interventions 

and heavy military presence in African countries. Starting from the policies 

of decolonization, France tried to avoid deep immersion into conflicts on the 

continent, thus distancing itself from being a significant domestic actor for 

the African nations. This separation from internal African politics and conflicts was apparent in France’s attitude toward those they supported during 

interventions as well as in their operational choices. In nearly all its inter66 Gérard Prunier, ed., The Rwanda Crisis, 1954–1994: History of a Genocide (London: C. Hurst Publishers, 1995), 103. 

67 The Free French was a resistance movement inspired by de Gaulle and the French Forces of the 

Interior. For more on the struggles of de Gaulle at this time, see Dwight Jon Zimmerman, “Charles de 

Gaulle and the Free French: The Power of Won’t,” Defense Media Network, 27 September 2011, http://

www.defensemedianetwork.com/stories/the-power-of-wont-charles-de-gaulle-and-the-free-french/. 
154 The Crisis of the African State

ventions, France closely followed the commitment to disassociate from the 

peculiarities of turbulent Chadian politics, the belligerents, and their internal rivalries. This externalized intervention approach was reflected by their 

limited agendas, scopes, geographic coverage, and allocation of resources. 

Starting from the first intervention to preserve Tombalbaye’s regime, as 

well as ensuing attempts to save subsequent rulers, France never aimed 

to replace the Chadian government in any way. It did, however, reject the 

idea of exercising domestic law enforcement functions and other administrative tasks, which would have reminded both Chad and France of their 

colonial past and would have meant a long-term commitment of enormous 

economic and political resources. Neither did France want to install any 

external authority and put in place its “own” people, as this action would 

be uncomfortably reminiscent of their former colonial engagement from 

which France wanted to redeem itself. 

Furthermore, France never intended to commit itself to upholding the 

security of the Chadian state with a large-scale presence. This position 

stemmed from France’s general stance toward African countries, which was 

not to be bogged down in the domestic affairs in Africa. It did prefer stability in the region, however, not through massive military interventions. This 

stance largely limited the goals of French interventions in Chad. France had 

never intervened with the aim of the total destruction of various opposition factions, which would have antagonized the population to support the 

faction against the French government. Neither had it undertaken the role 

of peacekeeper, under which it would have been bound to provide external security guarantees for the warring parties. Moreover, France had never 

actually led or mediated any formal peace talks or negotiations or made 

any agreement with FROLINAT to end the conflict, except for the release of 

French citizens. 

Although the French presence in Chad was always felt, troops had never 

been stationed in the country for lengthy periods of time. Their interventions had a repeated but not continuous or prolonged character. France 

had never maintained a large-scale presence in Chad, except for during 

actual interventions, and it would always withdraw its military forces immediately afterward. During noncombat phases, French personnel on the 

ground were limited to military training officers and service personnel of 

the N’Djamena International Airport. The French detachments operated on 

their own; they did not mix with the Chadian Army and always represented 
France and Libya in Chad 155

a separate entity. Thus, the French created a sense of credible autonomy for 

the Chadians, who believed they were acting on their own. Such a position 

facilitated high morale within the Chadian ranks, believing they were supported by a strong patron while having a sense of self-sufficiency.

This externalized approach to interventions led to a limited operational scope. On very few occasions did the French directly collide with the 

opposition factions’ military detachments. France did not have substantial 

face-to-face combat with Libya, which protected France and Libya equally 

from an international conflict. This also allowed France to maintain limited 

combat losses that presupposed popular domestic support for its military 

operations. The narrow scope of the operations also limited their geographical coverage. Unlike the Libyan troops who were largely scattered over the 

northern Chadian terrain, the French always maintained an encapsulated 

pattern of deployment when present, being stationed in N’Djamena and 

protecting the inbound routes. These tactics allowed them to keep good 

communication lines, highly mobile troops, and a dense concentration of 

manpower in the case of combat, but also to avoid extensive combat casualties. Also, unlike the Libyans, the French military had never been forced 

to operate in an unknown and hostile environment against the wishes of 

the population; they were in N’Djamena and close to the capital where the 

locals were usually very receptive to the French presence.

Finally, a very important aspect of the French interventions was that they 

were institutionalized both in the eyes of local Chadians and the international community. Institutional frameworks were achieved by supporting 

the Chadian government, which had a legitimate institutional authority, 

and by legalizing their presence in the country through corresponding 

legal acts. By supporting an actor with at least nominal institutional legitimacy—the government with its administrative apparatus, military, and law 

enforcement agencies—France institutionalized its presence in the country. 

France also provided institutional assistance to the Chadian governments 

by fostering power-sharing constitutional mechanisms. The Chadian leaders enjoyed French support not because of their personal qualities but 

because of the offices they held. Opposition factions, on the other hand, 

lacked the institutional legitimacy of the national government; their legitimacy was confined to their specific regions. 

From a legal standpoint, the basis for French interventions came from 

different multilateral and bilateral cooperation agreements signed with the 
156 The Crisis of the African State

African states. For instance, the defense agreement between France and 

the members of the AEF (Afrique Équatoriale Française [French Equatorial 

Africa], which included Chad, the Central African Republic, and the Congo) was signed on 15 August 1960.68 In accordance with its terms, military 

forces of the AEF states “shall participate, with the French armed forces, 

under a single command, in the joint defence system.”69 The agreement 

gave France the right “to discharge its responsibilities with respect to their 

joint defence” but granted “the French armed forces free use of the bases they require.”70 France would “provide the [states] with the aid needed 

to constitute their armed forces.”71 This included, but was not limited, to 

“unimpeded movement on the territory, in the air space and in the territorial waters . . . exercises and maneuvers . . . use[age of] port, sea and river, 

road, railway, and air installations . . .”72 The “discharge from responsibilities” 

clause meant that France would intervene to salvage the Chadian regimes 

from internal and external threats whenever France deemed it necessary, 

thus letting France act upon its sole discretion. 

In return, France was obliged not only to provide economic support 

and military technical assistance to the Chadian Army, including training 

and coaching of Chadian officers, but also to protect Chad against external threats and provide domestic security, law, and order. This particular 

clause was invoked by Malloum when he asked for French assistance to 

put down FROLINAT. The agreement with its legal force would have tied 

France to a long-term commitment and the provision of permanent aid to 

the government, which could have been a serious burden. Such a legalized 

institutional approach to interventions from the viewpoint of Chadian domestic politics was significant in maintaining public support for the French 

intervenors. As a result, they were never considered intervenors but rather 

as genuine protectors of security and keepers of stability in the country.

The other intervenor in Chad—Libya—carried out its vital national interests 

in Chad for nearly two decades. Unlike the usual intervention scenarios that 

would commonly start at a certain point in time and end with fulfillment or 

failure to achieve their goals, Libyan actions resembled more of a systemat68 Defense Agreement between the French Republic, the Central African Republic, the Republic of the 

Congo and the Republic of Chad, 1960, U.N.T.C.

69 Ibid.

70 Ibid.

71 Ibid.

72 Ibid.
France and Libya in Chad 157

ic occupation and annexation of a foreign territory. With its forces stationed 

in the north and center of the country, Libya was introducing its own national ID cards and currency, educating young people in Chad, establishing 

local committees, and flying Libyan flags on Chadian government buildings. The key reason for the continuous failure of Libyan interventions was 

a direct result of such actions. Unlike France, who always viewed itself as an 

external player to Chad, Libya strived to become an internal actor on the 

Chadian domestic political scene from the very beginning of its involvement. Libya did not want to be merely an intervenor with its own agenda, 

but an occupant of and service provider for the territories it covered. While 

the French government entered Chad only when needed or requested, the 

Libyans were interested in the long-term prospect of territorial annexation. 

Even when their actions were backed by bilateral treaties with the Chadian 

government, these accords were merely a cover for Libya’s real goal, which 

was the creation of a unified Arab state. 

Failures of subsequent Libyan interventions can also be explained by the 

overexpansion of its territorial hold in Chad and general intervention agendas, which eventually turned out to be absolutely fatal. While stationed in 

Aouzou, its troops could easily coordinate their actions, receive continuous supplies of military equipment and ammunition from Libya proper, and 

economically sustain their presence. They could also install their own administrations (which they, in fact, did) and conduct heavy expansion of Libyan 

culture and tradition as well as the Arabic language. Additionally, limited 

territorial coverage allowed Libyans to effectively survey the land installations and back up their infantry actions by aircraft fire. Once Libya decided 

to engage southward, however, it proved difficult to effectively sustain the 

presence of its troops in larger territories and on unknown terrain. Airlifts of 

cargo from Libya proper became increasingly difficult; air surveillance was 

limited due to the absence of radar installations in the south and troops on 

the ground received no air support. Libya also had to operate in a territory 

populated by other ethnic groups, which, apart from decreasing soldiers’ 

morale, led to greater popular resistance.

An important factor that contributed to the internalization of Libya’s intervention and its failures was that its actions went beyond mere operational 

presence by undertaking the external responsibility for domestic security 

and governance for the northern Chadian territories. Like France, Libya also 

wanted to be institutionalized in Chad but, for Libya, institutionalization was 
158 The Crisis of the African State

tantamount to territorial gain. As a result of remaining in the Aouzou Strip 

for long periods, Libya became deeply immersed in domestic Chadian politics and its problems. This involvement intensified even as Qaddafi tried to 

rein in Libya’s commitments in Chad. However, Libya could not indefinitely 

remain in another state’s sovereign territory without a defined legal status. 

A decision had to be made either to legally institutionalize its presence in 

northern Chad by complete unification with Libya or to retreat. Libya could 

not claim to have wide support for its actions in the international community as well as in Chad due to its antagonism toward the West and its values. It 

also had poor relations with powerful actors in the international arena, such 

as the United States and the former USSR. Thus, it was unable to effectively 

annex Chadian territory or receive international blessing for its actions. As 

a result, Libya chose the least beneficial option of all—to remain a de facto 

government in Chad as long as possible—undertaking an increasing number of state functions and responsibilities that it was unable to bear.

Another significant contributor to the continuous failures of Libyan interventions was that it primarily supported the opposition rather than the 

legitimate government. The majority of the country’s population saw Libya 

as an unwelcome outsider because it acted on behalf of the opposition, 

which was usually operationally, militarily, and economically weaker than 

the government it fought against. Libya’s inputs barely equalized the capacities of the belligerents. A clear example of these poor choices can be seen 

in the fight against Habré’s FAN once it came to power. The opposition was 

tactically and operationally inferior to FAN, and Libya proved unable to effectively enforce its will against the government. Although FAN received no 

sizable assistance from the French, who mainly played the role of observers 

and protectors of European expats, Habré’s troops fought a decisive war 

that, according to David Ottaway, was the result of “the most successful 

collaboration between a Western army and a Third World army in modern 

times.”73 After its initial defeat at N’Djamena, FAN forces became operationally more suited to desert warfare and tactically flexible. The Libyan 

Army, on the other hand, “. . . favored conventional Soviet-style operations 

in which infantry are backed up by armor, making them vulnerable to [the] 

FAN’s hit-and-run tactics.”74 As for its single victory against Habré in 1988, 

the Libyans drove the FAN out of previously occupied Aouzou by mim73 David Ottaway, “U.S. May Send Chad Some Stingers,” Washington Post, 17 September 1987, A36. 74 “Target Qaddafi,” Africa Confidential 28, no. 8 (15 April 1987): 2.
France and Libya in Chad 159

icking FAN usage of highly maneuverable light vehicles and short-range 

self-propelled missiles.

Only on one occasion did Libya manage to fulfill its intervention agenda, 

and this was in the late 1980s when its troops brought the GUNT to power. 

Libyan troops succeeded in helping the GUNT stifle the FAN and, for almost 

a year, pushed Habré’s supporters out of N’Djamena. Libya was successful 

primarily due to the operational superiority of the combined Libyan-GUNT 

troops who possessed more advanced military equipment and generally 

outnumbered the FANT. However, the most important factor was that the 

GUNT, while being in exile, was still the legitimate government of Chad. As 

with the French interventions, institutionalization became the crucial determinant of success for Libyan actions. On the basis of the official agreement 

with Goukouni, Libya supported the GUNT, a legal entity installed as a result of the peace conference held in Lagos in 14–21 August 1979.75 Apart 

from securing public support in Chad, this agreement allowed Qaddafi to 

represent himself as a peacemaker, not an annexing power, and to distract 

international attention from his real interests in Chad.

If Libya had enjoyed popular support in the territories to the north, including their fellow Arabs and other African Muslims, the positive response to 

their presence in Chad decreased with their movement south. The south had 

always rejected northern domination, especially when this supremacy was 

installed and supported by an outside force. As Libyans began aiding the legitimate government of the country, Tripoli’s actions also looked legitimate, 

helping it achieve a certain level of popular support entrusted to the GUNT.

The institutionalization of interventions became an indispensible precondition for success for both internal Chadian politics and the international 

arena. The institutionalized intervention amplified the confidence of Libyans and Chadians that they were acting for the right cause and the right 

government. Qaddafi went even further and claimed that, since Goukouni 

had asked Libya to intervene, he might also ask it to depart. Libya, as a 

responsible member of the international community, would respect this 

request and leave. This may also have been a face-saving maneuver as, following Goukouni’s request, Libya did, in fact, leave.

The GUNT’s legitimacy, nurtured and endorsed by four reconciliation 

conferences, might have been an additional reason why France did not 

75 This conference was also known as Lagos II. Lagos was Nigeria’s capital after independence until the 

seat of the government was transferred to Abuja in 1991.
160 The Crisis of the African State

support Habré in 1980–81. Although then minister of defense, Habré was 

still an opposition rebel who, fresh out of the GUNT, was acting against the 

legitimate government that France had once supported. A logical question to ask would be why France did not support the GUNT as a legally 

placed government, as it did with Habré’s government. A possible explanation could be that the GUNT enjoyed backing Libya—with whom France had 

a competitive relationship in the region—and Chad. It was difficult for the 

French leadership to arrange popular support at home for their possible 

cooperation with a country that, if not an enemy, was certainly not a friendly 

state, and whose influence threatened France’s interests in Africa. Thus, a 

rational explanation, taking into account the general line of French support 

for legitimate governments in Chad (no matter who was in office) would 

be that, once a new government was in place, France could easily exercise 

influence over it. 

Conclusions 

The conflict in Chad and its concurrent interventions represent various degrees of success in fulfilling the intervenors’ objectives. One of the reasons 

for their successes was the remarkable path dependency in their actions 

(i.e., it is easier and more efficient to continue down the same path than 

to attempt a reversal of action). France and Libya were victorious if they 

supported legitimate government factions that were, in most instances, 

operationally stronger than opposition forces. Libya failed each time it 

provided aid to the usually weaker opposition. In both cases—France and 

Libya—the interventions triumphed when they were backed by institutional 

arrangements enshrined in formal legal agreements. Even when Libya supported the GUNT in opposition to Habré’s rule, it was still considered by the 

international community as the Chadian government in exile, on behalf of 

which Libya made a commitment to intervene. The direction of third-party 

support had an important effect on subsequent developments: the government-sponsoring intervenor enjoyed a higher degree of legitimacy locally 

(in the target country), domestically (in its own country), and internationally. Hence, an intervenor is considered by the populations abroad and at 

home as having a noble task to uphold law and order, which helps the intervenor achieve its objectives. In contrast, when the intervenor aided the 

opposition, it only had the backing of that party and its supporters that, by 

definition, was quite limited.
France and Libya in Chad 161

Another decisive element in the success of interventions was the externalization of the intervention, which contributed to a higher degree of 

success. Having distanced themselves from the parties involved, French 

troops made it easier operationally and logistically to stay out of the target 

country and intervene only upon the request of the party they supported. 

The French presence remained largely external to the situation in Chad, 

allowing France to retain its limited agenda. France did provide administrative and governance support by urging the Chadian authorities to carry 

out governance reforms. These actions, however, were mostly ad hoc in 

character and were not an inherent part of multidimensional intervention 

agendas, which France clearly did not have. In contrast, Libya’s decision to 

extend its presence by going out of the area—both literally and figuratively—extending its territorial coverage and including additional components 

of intervention, such as statebuilding and external governance, worked 

against its ability to effectively achieve its intervention goals. As a result, 

Libya’s interventions appeared too close to the quagmire of local Chadian 

politics and too far from Tripoli. 

Limited intervention agendas also complement the externalization of 

actions. Both France and Libya were effective when they espoused narrower goals; the former not wanting to engage in long-term conflict with the 

opposition and succeeding in having a say in Chadian affairs, and the latter effectively maintaining its presence in a small area of the Aouzou Strip. 

Once Libya surpassed its initial scope of intervention, it could hardly sustain 

a multidimensional presence comprising infantry, armored vehicles, artillery, and air power, as well as public administrators on such a large territory 

away from its home base. Such an endeavor would have required not only 

a high degree of coordination between highly dispersed units but also a 

huge economic commitment to maintain its presence. It turned out to be a 

daunting task for Libya to move south and to attempt to provide for the local administration of the territories it was covering, mainly due to its limited 

economic resources and the diversity of the population it encountered on 

this path.

As is clear from the above analysis of interventions conducted by different external actors in a single geopolitical environment, the peace-centric 

approach to judging the success of interventions fails completely. Neither 

France nor Libya intended to bring peace to war-torn Chad or to contribute 

to peacebuilding efforts. A sustainable postconflict settlement is impossi-
162 The Crisis of the African State

ble to achieve without intergroup reconciliation processes. These should 

include, among others, statebuilding efforts via the “international conservatorship,”76 as discussed by Gerald Helman and Steven Ratner, which 

includes direct external governance by the multinational community replacing inept domestic forces; Arend Lijphart’s77 “consociational democracy”78

via power-sharing mechanisms where third parties successfully coerce the 

warring factions to agree upon joint participation in the country’s political, 

economic, and cultural life; or Chaim Kaufmann’s “reconstruction of ethnic 

identities,”79 where fluid and constructed identities can be reconstructed by 

skillful “ethnic entrepreneurs” or even physical separation of the belligerents into their defensive enclaves. 

The interventions of France and Libya had none of these aims; they pursued their own sometimes rational, in most cases not, national interests 

that were not always aligned even with the parties they supported. Neither 

France nor Libya exhibited altruistic desires to end the interethnic strife in 

Chad. France shied away from the responsibility of full-scale intervention 

with subsequent multidimensional peacebuilding efforts that would get 

them bogged down in Chadian domestic politics. Libya, on the contrary, 

became only partially involved based on its own selfish concerns, which 

distanced it from most of the Chadian population.

76 Gerald B. Helman and Steven R. Ratner, “Saving Failed States,” Foreign Policy no. 89 (Winter 1992–93): 

3–20, http://foreignpolicy.com/2010/06/15/saving-failed-states/.

77 Arend Lijphart, Power-Sharing in South Africa, Policy Papers in International Affairs no. 24 (Institute of 

International Studies, University of California-Berkeley, 1985).

78 Arend Lijphart, “Consociational Democracy,” World Politics 21, no. 2 (1969): 207–25. 79 Chaim Kaufmann, “Possible and Impossible Solutions to Ethnic Civil Wars,” International Security 20, 

no. 4 (Spring 1996): 152.
Chapter Seven

Political Economy and Stability in Nigeria

by Clarence J. Bouchat*

Nigeria represents the best and worst of what African states offer the world. 

The country is a mosaic of more than 250 different ethnic groups and languages that serve as a crossroad between various forms of Christianity, 

Islam, and indigenous beliefs, and Western, Arab, and native influence. Its 

expansive land area supports productive agricultural land and immense 

deposits of oil and natural gas rated as the tenth and ninth largest in world 

reserves, respectively.1 Nigeria possesses international political clout 

through its strong military forces and active role in peace operations, and 

is recognized for its diplomatic leadership in international organizations 

like the Organisation of the Islamic Conference (OIC), Organization of the 

Petroleum Exporting Countries (OPEC), and as a founding member of the 

African Union (AU) and the Economic Community of West African States 

(ECOWAS).2 Its population of 177 million people also makes Nigeria by 

far the largest state in Africa, and the eighth most populous country in the 

world.3

Nigeria also demonstrates many of the problems that plague much of 

Africa’s need for stability and progress. Nigerians have routinely endured 

strife along their many internal differences from the bloody 1967–70 civil 

war to more than a million Nigerians displaced by internal turmoil between 

* Clarence Bouchat is a retired U.S. Air Force lieutenant colonel and an instructor of African studies at 

the U.S. Army War College.

1 Central Intelligence Agency (CIA), “Africa: Nigeria,” The World Factbook, 2014, https://www.cia.gov

/library/publications/the-world-factbook/geos/ni.html.

2 Kenneth L. Prendergast Jr., Security Assistance in Nigeria: Shaping the International Environment to 

Meet U.S. National Security Objectives in the Global Era (Carlisle Barracks, PA: U.S. Army War College, 

2003), 14; Michael A. Blessing, Nigeria’s Center(s) of Gravity: A Complex and Violent Operational Environment (Carlisle Barracks, PA: U.S. Army War College, 2008), 11; and Thomas A. Dempsey, “The Transformation of African Militaries,” in Understanding Africa: A Geographic Approach, ed. Amy R. Krakowka 

and Laurel J. Hummel (West Point, NY: United States Military Academy and Army War College, 2009), 

390.

3 CIA, “Africa: Nigeria.” Data is for July 2014.

163
164 The Crisis of the African State

1999 and 2004.4 Its larder of natural resources brings in much needed foreign revenue, but also stands as a vast source of corruption, internecine 

conflict, and degradation to the environment and agricultural livelihoods. 

Nigeria’s history since independence in 1960 has been tossed by political tumult with numerous military coups and autocratic governments, four 

different republics, and a poor human rights record. Such problems have 

hobbled economic, social, and human development in Nigeria, which suffers a low gross domestic product per capita (purchasing power parity 

[PPP]) of $2,800 (180th in the world), a literacy rate of only 61 percent, life 

expectancy of 52.6 years (212th in world), and poverty rate at 70 percent, 

all making Nigeria one of the 20 poorest countries per capita in the world.5

The country is noted as a hub for cybercrimes, drug and human trafficking, 

piracy, and extremism, as well as disease and general human suffering.6

The paradox that is Nigeria offers much to its citizens and the world, 

but has been unable to deliver on its potential or realize its aspirations.7

Although currently enjoying a positive trend of strong economic growth 

and improving democratic resiliency, the fundamental problems that have 

challenged Nigerian progress through its history remain simmering. These 

issues have been ascribed to many complex causes, including its colonial 

legacy, international intrigue, poverty, and the cultural and religious conflicts that often leave Nigeria teetering at the edge of instability and liable to 

fracture. However, the root cause for these and many other problems may 

be the result of the political economy of Nigeria and the resulting centrifugal and centripetal forces that hold Nigeria as a unified state in the balance. 

To test this assertion, this chapter will first explain the definition of political economy employed here, particularly as it pertains to why Nigeria 

wavers on the edge of failing as a state through the negative interaction 

of competing economics, politics, and societies and the resulting rampant 

4 International Crisis Group (ICG), Nigeria’s Faltering Federal Experiment, Africa Report No. 119 

(Brussels: International Crisis Group, 25 October 2006), 12–13, http://www.crisisgroup.org/~/media

/Files/africa/west-africa/nigeria/Nigerias%20Faltering%20Federal%20Experiment.pdf. 5 CIA, “Africa: Nigeria”; Oarhe Osumah and Augustine Ikelegbe, “The Peoples Democratic Party and Governance in Nigeria, 1999–2007,” Journal of Social Sciences 19, no. 3 (2009): 196, http://www.krepublishers

.com/02-Journals/JSS/JSS-19-0-000-09-Web/JSS-19-3-000-09-Abst-PDF/JSS-19-3-185-2009-777

-Osumah-O/JSS-19-3-185-2009-777-Osumah-O-Tt.pdf; and Adekeye Adebajo, The Curse of Berlin: Africa 

after the Cold War (New York: Columbia University Press, 2010), 124. 6 Peter M. Lewis, “The Dysfunctional State of Nigeria,” in Short of the Goal: U.S. Policy and Poorly Performing States, ed. Nancy Birdsall, Milan Vaishnav, and Robert L. Ayres (Washington, DC: Center for Global 

Development, 2006), 103–4.

7 Adebajo, The Curse of Berlin, 124.
Political Economy and Stability in Nigeria 165

corruption. We then analyze where and why fissures may occur that could 

destroy the unity of the Nigerian state. 

The Political Economy of a State in Turmoil

In the daily routines of citizens and states alike, politics, economics, and culture are strong interrelated influencers. These are each encompassed in the 

useful term “political economy,” which is concerned with the “interconnection of economic and political structures in social formation.”8 The central 

use of political economy for our purposes considers the mutual influence of 

economic activities and policies with politics and its ideologies, cultural and 

historic factors, and the self-interests of affected groups.9 These broad interlocking concepts include several elements of the political economy that 

support this analysis to include formation of self-interested group action, 

redistribution of public economic gain, effects of cultural background, and 

reform and development in the political, economic, and social aspects of 

Nigeria. The economy in terms of its benefits and rewards, as they influence 

and are influenced by political and social activities and organizations, is our 

primary focus. 

Despite its daunting intricacies, political economy is a rather self-evident 

concept. By our nature, human beings want to influence those things of 

most significance to us. Economic well-being ranks high in importance in 

meeting human needs, so it is not surprising that political and cultural associations would be formed to influence economic outcomes to benefit an 

individual or group. Indeed, classic economists like Adam Smith and David 

Ricardo primarily addressed political economy issues in their works.10 It was 

not until the 1880s that politics and economics were divorced in the continuing effort to quantify economics free of the taint of outside influences to 

create “an independent sphere of economics where politics didn’t intrude 

8 Simeon H. O. Alozieuwa, “Beyond the Ethno-Religious Theory of the Jos Conflict,” Africa Peace 

and Conflict Journal 3, no. 2 (2010): 23, http://www.apcj.upeace.org/issues/APCJ_Dec2010_Vol3

_Num2.pdf.

9 Frederic L. Pryor, The Political Economy of Poverty, Equity, and Growth: Malawi and Madagascar (Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press, 1990), 12.

10 Adam Smith is known as the father of modern economics. According to Smith, free markets allowed 

the natural laws of supply and demand to function properly. His most well-known works include The 

Theory of Moral Sentiments (1759) and The Wealth of Nations (1776). David Ricardo’s methods for comparative advantage and analyzing market forces using deduction and mathematics are still applicable 

today. His first book, The High Price of Bullion: A Proof of the Depreciation of Bank Notes, was published 

in 1810.
166 The Crisis of the African State

and that mathematics allowed markets to be predictable . . .”11 The linkage 

of these forces in human endeavors is undeniable, however, which explains 

why a serious examination of turmoil afflicting a state like Nigeria must rely 

on this inexact but encompassing concept. Therefore, political and social 

involvement in economic affairs should be expected, and economic results 

will in turn affect them.12 The political economy may be the most important 

factor when explaining a state’s current and future prosperity and stability, 

although certainly not the only factor.13

Because they are so fundamental to the welfare of humans, the distribution 

of power and economic gains may be the most volatile of intrastate problems. Under conditions of robust equitable per capita economic growth, 

intrastate political and social rivalries are rare or can be ignored so as not 

to upset the shared benefits of growth. This situation occurred during the 

boom days of Yugoslavia when one of Europe’s fastest growing economies 

in the 1950s and 1960s overshadowed the interethnic and political turmoil 

that killed 750,000 Yugoslavs (through internecine fighting alone) during 

World War II. When relative standards of living decline or are inequitable, 

however, conditions often deteriorate and problems manifest as political or 

cultural cleavages in zero-sum pursuit of diminishing economic gains. Such 

was the case of the Yugoslav economic decline of the 1980s that followed 

international oil shocks and poor government policies, ultimately leading 

to the resurgence of political, cultural, and regional clashes that fractured 

Yugoslavia during the 1990s.14 These examples from Yugoslavia and states 

like Sudan are instructive to the situation in Nigeria today.

Through most of its history, Nigeria’s economy has woefully underperformed with the resulting expected competition along a variety of traditional 

and modern self-interest groups. From independence in 1960 to 2000, Nigeria’s income per capita stagnated in terms of PPP despite the income per 

capita from petroleum, Nigeria’s dominating source of income, increasing 

11 George Friedman, “Financial Markets, Politics and the New Reality,” Stratfor’s Geopolitical Weekly, 

7 August 2012, http://www.stratfor.com/weekly/financial-markets-politics-and-new-reality?utm_source

=freelist-f&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=20120807&utm_term=gweekly&utm_content=readmore&elq=190331b653e84cbb9fd56af99a9be15a.

12 Ibid.

13 William Reno, “Shadow States and the Political Economy of Civil Wars,” in Greed and Grievance: Economic Agendas in Civil Wars, ed. Mats Berdal and David M. Malone (Boulder, CO: Lynne Rienner Publishers, 2000), 44.

14 Clarence Bouchat IV, “The North-South Divide within Mediterranean Countries,” Mediterranean Quarterly 5, no. 4 (Fall 1994): 128–41.
Political Economy and Stability in Nigeria 167

tenfold.15 The country’s per capita gross domestic product (GDP at the official exchange rate)16 dropped from a high of $1,500 during the 1970s to a 

low of $300 in 1998, doubling the poverty rate to 70 percent.17 By 2010, the 

GDP had nearly recovered to $1,470 (due in part to high oil prices, but also 

economic reform in nonoil sectors), but poverty still remained at 70 percent, 

signaling serious inequity problems.18 Analysis of 2010 communal clashes 

by a Nigerian professor in the chronically violence-prone central city of Jos 

noted a combination of political economic “factors including social apathy, 

economic deprivation, and political frustration . . . it’s simply an exhibition 

of the failure of governance in Nigeria; it’s an exhibition of a very serious 

economic problem that Nigerians find themselves in.”19 He goes on to observe that “too often in the midst of serious economic crisis, people often 

lose sight of the real problem to exploit the most visible difference between 

groups, in the case of Jos, the religious difference.”20 As this one example 

and the rest of this chapter will show, Nigeria’s frequent and bloody turmoil 

through its history is often the result of manipulated groups clashing for a 

bigger share of an inadequately sized pie.

This poor record of economic development in Nigeria, despite its potential, is in large part due to two political economic causes, which may explain 

why economic policies have not fared better. The first cause is the inability 

of its leaders to meld a unified nation out of the “fragmented geographic 

15 Waqar Ahmed Wadho, “Education, Rent-seeking and the Curse of Natural Resources,” MPRA Paper 

37831 (Munich: University Library of Munich, 2011), 2, http://mpra.ub.uni-muenchen.de/37831/.

16 The use of GDP PPP is a relatively new method of measuring a country’s economic production, rather 

than the previous method of calculating GDP based upon a set exchange rate. PPP measurements reduce the error that transitory U.S. dollar (the usual medium used to ensure like comparisons) exchange 

rate spikes induce, and accounts for the difficulty in obtaining common basic necessities for living. 

Using the GDP PPP usually increases the amount of economic production per person in less-developed 

countries, thereby reducing the perception of poverty suffered when compared to unadjusted figures. 

Since this comparison starts with figures computed with the official exchange rate at the time, a GDP 

per capita of $1,470 based on the 2010 official exchange rate is also used. Thus, the average share of 

Nigerians’ slice of the country’s economic pie has remained stagnant for more than 40 years and has 

dipped considerably in the interim, despite Nigeria’s enormous natural resource wealth. The GDP PPP 

in Nigeria for 2013 is $2,800, ranking it 180th lowest in the world. See CIA, “Africa: Nigeria.”

17 Toyin Falola, The History of Nigeria (Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 1999), 16; and Juliet Elu, “Human Development in Sub-Saharan Africa: Analysis and Prospects for the Future,” Journal of Third World 

Studies 17, no. 2 (Fall 2000): 53. 18 CIA, “Africa: Nigeria.”

19 James Butty, “Nigerian Professor Says Latest Jos Violence a Result of Many Factors,” VOANews.com, 18 January 2010, http://www.voanews.com/content/butty-nigeria-violence-analysis

-20jan10-82131892/152914.html.

20 Ibid.
168 The Crisis of the African State

and ethnic components” in Nigeria. The second is the unstable government 

structure from colonial control to alternating elected and authoritarian regimes, with numerous military coups and different forms of governments.21

Nigerians did not possess a strong sense of unity before or during the colonial period, which not only discouraged a sense of nationhood, but British 

authorities may have actively played groups against each other.22 Economic 

development was also not seriously emphasized in colonial times beyond 

infrastructure development needed to exploit native resources and markets 

for imperial interests.23 Since independence, demagogic politicians seek 

to gain regional, ethnic, and religious group support for their own interests, and they have divided Nigeria’s society and polity severely. Claims of 

self-determination, a method used by minorities to mobilize against central 

authority and leverage their position for concessions, is a common tactic in 

Nigerian politics, and was taken to its limit in the unsuccessful secession of 

Biafra during the 1967–70 civil war.24 Nigeria’s wealth continues to be seen 

as a source of exploitation by its elite, often pitting groups against each other in pursuit of controlling national wealth.25 In these ways, the economic, 

political, and social forces—both historic and modern—have influenced each 

other, resulting in a chronically weakened state.

The Political Economy

in a Nigerian Rentier State

Many of Nigeria’s problems can be traced to its political economy because it 

contains the bread-and-butter issues that may sow internal disharmony. The country’s policies have unbalanced the economy into one highly dependent upon 

exporting energy resources, which then became the lucrative target of political 

21 David L. Bevan, Paul Collier, and Jan Willem Gunning, The Political Economy of Poverty, Equity, and 

Growth: Nigeria and Indonesia (Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press, 1999), 189; and Lewis, “The Dysfunctional State of Nigeria,” 83.

22 Ashley Jackson, “Nigeria: A Security Overview,” Round Table: Commonwealth Journal of International 

Affairs 96, no. 392 (October 2007): 588–89. 23 N. I. Ikpeze, C. C. Soludo, and N. N. Elekwa, “Nigeria: The Political Economy of the Policy Process, 

Policy Choice and Implementation,” in The Politics of Trade and Industrial Policy in Africa: Forced Consensus?, ed. Charles Chukwuma Soludo, Michael Osita Ogbu, and Ha-Joon Chang (Lawrenceville, NJ: 

Africa World Press, 2004), 349.

24 Erin Jenne, “National Self-Determination: A Deadly Mobilizing Device,” in Negotiating Self-Determination, Causes and Consequences, ed. Hurst Hannum and Eileen F. Babbitt (Lanham, MD: Lexington 

Books, 2005), 7–8.

25 Peter M. Lewis, Nigeria: Assessing Risks to Stability (Washington, DC: Center for Strategic and International Studies, June 2011), 8, http://csis.org/files/publication/110623_Lewis_Nigeria_Web.pdf.
Political Economy and Stability in Nigeria 169

economic infighting. The effects of a single-product economy have encouraged 

self-serving actions by Nigerian citizens and organizations; fostered dependence on easy economic gains; and made the government overly centralized, 

unresponsive to its citizens, and corrupt. This section addresses Nigeria’s economy and explains how it has become the foundation for so many other problems.26

Nigeria’s huge population, many resources, and favorable location produced a large economy that has become integrated into the greater global 

economy through the centuries. Nigeria ranks 31st in the world in GDP PPP 

with $478 billion in 2013, and a healthy growth rate averaging higher than 7 

percent from 2003 to 2012.27 The high price of petroleum over that period 

accounts for much of the wealth since oil produces 25 percent of GDP and 

80 percent of government budget revenues.28 Petroleum has taken over Nigeria’s economy, rocketing from just 1 percent of GDP in 1960 to 26 percent 

in 1970; and at 94 percent, petroleum dominated exports by 1976, remaining at 95 percent of foreign exchange earnings in 2013.29 By comparison, 

Nigeria’s economic output during the 1960s was 61 percent agricultural, 

which was also the cultural base of many ethnic groups.30 The manufacturing sector, employing traditional skills and native products, grew to a high 

of 11 percent of GDP in the 1970s, before falling to just half that amount 

in 2000 and continuing to decline since.31 In 2013, the agricultural sector 

employed 70 percent of Nigeria’s labor force and represented 31 percent 

of its GDP, but accounted for only 4 percent of exports and 1 percent of 

manufacturing.32 Foreign enclave energy production has changed the basis of Nigeria’s economy and collection of government revenues, but also 

undemocratized its economy and tax base in the process.

The consequences of the oil boom in Nigeria and subsequent economic 

fallout is a classic example of “Dutch disease” whereby an economic boom, 

often based on a single source, commonly a natural resource, has the unwanted effect of expanding a country’s prices, and thereby depressing local 

production and nonresource exports through indirectly subsidizing cheap26 Lewis, “The Dysfunctional State of Nigeria,” 85.

27 CIA, “Africa: Nigeria.”

28 Ibid.

29 Falola, History of Nigeria, 138; and CIA, “Africa: Nigeria.” 30 Falola, History of Nigeria, 112. 31 Ikpeze, Soludo, and Elekwa, “Nigeria,” 341; and Lewis, “The Dysfunctional State of Nigeria,” 88.

32 CIA, “Africa: Nigeria.”
170 The Crisis of the African State

er imports—all of which hampers growth.33 Although a country as large and 

diverse as Nigeria has considerable influence over its economy through 

government policies,34 Nigeria has consistently mismanaged its bonanza. 

A common consequence of Dutch disease makes the economy more dependent upon a single commodity or sector, and thus prone to buffeting 

by international markets during unpredictable boom and bust cycles, and 

thus becoming exacerbated in Nigeria by implementing expedient shortterm solutions over long-term development.35 Also, high economic growth 

spurred by oil production has been unable to pace Nigeria’s staggering 

population growth, which nearly quadrupled over the period from 46 million in 1960 to 177 million in 2014, with an average 5.25 children born to 

each woman of childbearing age.36 Nigeria’s chronic case of Dutch disease 

was contracted through a combination of misguided and self-centered 

actions by the government, individuals, and mutually suspicious interest 

groups who have been unable to overcome partisanship in Nigeria.

Nigeria’s cycle of disruptive and violent intergroup competition was created in part with good intentions and unintended consequences. Starting in 

the late 1960s, the Nigerian government curtailed the amount of impartial 

technical advice it received by disbanding its core of international economic 

advisers.37 One outcome of this action was that the government tried “to do 

too much too soon, leaving the government administratively overextended.”38

The massive Nigerian government borrowing that followed went to finance 

“lavish, often superfluous” factory construction, and poorly conceived prestige projects of dubious need that suffocated private enterprise.39 Nigerian 

producers were also undermined by a currency inflated with oil earnings, 

33 “The term “Dutch disease” originates from a crisis in the Netherlands in the 1960s that resulted from 

discoveries of vast natural gas deposits in the North Sea. The newfound wealth caused the Dutch guilder to rise, making exports of all nonoil products less competitive on the world market. For a more 

complete description, see http://www.investopedia.com/terms/d/dutchdisease.asp; and Lewis, Nigeria: Assessing Risks to Stability, 81. 34 J. Peter Neary and Sweder van Wijnbergen, eds., Natural Resources and the Macroeconomy (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1986), 10–11.

35 Lewis, Nigeria: Assessing Risks to Stability, 81; and Prendergast, Security Assistance in Nigeria, 16. 36 Ibid.; and CIA, “Africa: Nigeria.”

37 Bevan, Collier, and Gunning, The Political Economy of Poverty, Equity, and Growth, 3. 38 Michael L. Ross, “The Political Economy of the Resource Curse,” World Politics 51, no. 2 (January 1999): 

310.

39 Charles H. Cutter, Africa 2007 (Harpers Ferry, WV: Stryker-Post Publications, 2007), 91; Lewis, Nigeria: 

Assessing Risks to Stability, 81; Ross, “The Political Economy of the Resource Curse,” 306; and Bevan, 

Collier, and Gunning, The Political Economy of Poverty, Equity, and Growth, 1–2.
Political Economy and Stability in Nigeria 171

which greatly increased the imports of consumables at the expense of locally 

produced goods.40 Natural resource extraction absorbed nearly all foreign, 

private, and public investment, creating chronic rural underinvestment in 

the agricultural sector and its related infrastructure.41 Another unexpected 

effect was that energy production jobs diverted skilled and unskilled labor 

away from manufacturing and agricultural pursuits.42 These negative effects 

of misallocating resources are classic symptoms of Dutch disease. Another 

secondary consequence was the serious environmental damage from extractive industries, including coal and tin, that directly damaged agricultural 

and aquatic pursuits and the livelihoods of Nigeria’s poorest people, inciting 

crime and insurgency among the disaffected.43

Beyond the misallocation of funds, other government policies inadvertently hurt Nigeria’s economic development.44 During the boom years, Nigerian 

officials allowed the official currency exchange rate to appreciate, and then 

kept it artificially overvalued when oil prices fell.45 The negative results of 

this monetary policy were to depress native production of goods, fuel inflation, and encourage black market activities.46 This policy crowded out other 

economic activities, such as agriculture and manufacturing, which could not 

play a sufficient role to counterbalance the effect of cyclical declines in oil 

revenue on the world economy and still could not during the depressed 

energy prices cycle of 2014–15. To smooth the troughs of international oil 

price fluctuations and to leverage export income during good times, Nigeria borrowed heavily from foreign sources, causing deep indebtedness and 

increased exposure to the dictates of crediting countries and organizations 

when those debts could not be paid.47 The large expansion of government 

40 Nahzeem O. Mimiko, “Between Yugoslavia and Czechoslovakia: The Abacha Coup, the National Conference, and Prospects for Peace and Democracy in Nigeria,” Social Justice 22, no. 3 (Fall 1995): 129; 

and Lewis, “The Dysfunctional State of Nigeria,” 98.

41 Bevan, Collier, and Gunning, The Political Economy of Poverty, Equity, and Growth, 184; Falola, History 

of Nigeria, 132; and Elu, “Human Development in Sub-Saharan Africa,” 5. 42 Ikpeze, Soludo, and Elekwa, “Nigeria,” 341.

43 Falola, History of Nigeria, 132; Elu, “Human Development in Sub-Saharan Africa,” 2; and 2007 Comprehensive Report on U.S. Trade and Investment Policy Toward Sub-Saharan Africa and Implementation of the African Growth and Opportunity Act (Washington, DC: Office of the United States Trade 

Representative, U.S. Department of State, May 2007), 21, http://www.ustr.gov/sites/default/files/asset

_upload_file762_11294.pdf.

44 Lewis, “The Dysfunctional State of Nigeria,” 94.

45 Bevan, Collier, and Gunning, The Political Economy of Poverty, Equity, and Growth, 4. 46 Lewis, Nigeria: Assessing Risks to Stability, 90; Elu, “Human Development in Sub-Saharan Africa,” 54; 

and Bevan, Collier, and Gunning, The Political Economy of Poverty, Equity, and Growth, 190. 47 Lewis, “The Dysfunctional State of Nigeria,” 81; and Lewis, Nigeria: Assessing Risks to Stability, 98.
172 The Crisis of the African State

employment diverted talent from other economic endeavors and increased 

wage rates, adding to inflationary pressure.48 Through either lack of vision or 

corrupt intent, Nigeria’s leaders failed to diversify its economy or maintain its 

infrastructure to the detriment of the economy.49

Despite disbanding the international advisors group, Nigerian officials 

may have understood the nature of these heavily criticized economic policies. However, they were constrained by political pressure from their highly 

fractured constituents who were maximizing their share in an underperforming economy.50 For many reasons, the economic sectors in which the 

large majority of Nigerians work receive much less support from public 

investment and policy than is given to the highly concentrated extractive 

sector; yet proceeds from these natural resource-based industries neither 

increase the general welfare of the population nor compensate them for 

their losses.51 In Nigeria, these represent political decisions with far ranging 

economic and social consequences.

In addition to poor decisions and constrained options, other base reasons also explain Nigeria’s underperforming economy. Since the rents 

from the resource sector usually go to the government, Thomas Friedman’s 

“curse of oil” posits how Nigerian autocrats misuse the state’s wealth because they hold control over its rich natural resources, freeing them from 

accountability of their citizens, and was probably an underlying motive for 

the civil war.52 The quality of a state’s institutions, whether prone to being 

“grabber-friendly or producer-friendly . . . is the key to understanding the 

resource curse: when institutions are bad, resource abundance is a curse 

. . .”53 Throughout history, Nigerian administrations and their regional, cultural, religious, political, and economic associations have consistently been 

grabber-friendly. 

Dutch disease also increases the occurrence of corruption.54 In one ex48 Bevan, Collier, and Gunning, The Political Economy of Poverty, Equity, and Growth, 185. 49 Adebajo, The Curse of Berlin, 124. 50 Ross, “The Political Economy of the Resource Curse,” 310.

51 Elu, “Human Development in Sub-Saharan Africa,” 54.

52 Thomas L. Friedman, The World Is Flat: A Brief History of the Twenty-first Century (New York: Farrar, 

Straus and Giroux, 2005), 460–61; and Bonnie Ayodele, “Silence on Climate Change and Natural Resources Conflict in Nigeria: The Niger Delta Region Experience,” in Climate Change and Natural Resources Conflicts in Africa, ed. Donald Anthony Mwiturubani and Jo–Ansie van Wyk (Pretoria, South 

Africa: Institute for Security Studies, 2010), 111.

53 Wadho, “Education, Rent-seeking and the Curse of Natural Resources,” 2.

54 Lewis, “The Dysfunctional State of Nigeria,” 98.
Political Economy and Stability in Nigeria 173

ample, the regime of General Yakubu Gowon, which presided over the oil 

boom of the 1960s and ‘70s, saw the oil windfall as a means of patronage 

through economic policies like import substitution that could reward political allies “through gross misuse of the oil . . .”55 From 1988 to 1993, an 

official government report found $13 billion, or 20 percent of total revenues, 

were “sidetracked to off-budget accounts” that were entirely unmonitored 

and undermined economic growth. Within two years of that 1994 report, 

the regime of General Sani Abacha diverted 17 percent of Nigeria’s GDP 

into off-budget accounts, thereby making two-thirds of government revenue unaccounted for.56 Over decades, a quarter of Nigeria’s oil revenue, or 

$50–100 billion, “disappeared” and enabled a corrupt class of politically 

oriented millionaires.57 Unfortunately, these are recurring events in Nigerian history, and their origin and ramifications deserve examination to better 

understand Nigeria’s broken political economic circumstances.

The more academic term for the curse of natural resources is a “rentier” 

state in which an easily controlled valuable commodity brings income or 

“rents,” rather than “a return on capital or entrepreneurship . . . it is wealth 

without work.”58 The dominance of oil exports in Nigeria makes it a rentier state since government revenues are derived mainly from the export 

of state controlled oil.59 The ability to receive state revenues independent 

of taxation and the will of the people is a potent force that may expand 

the jurisdiction of the controlling (usually central) government; encourage 

politicization of minorities and regions over redistribution of rents; eviscerate other economic sectors as already shown; and increase reliance on 

the “substitution of public spending for statecraft.”60 Wealth without work 

attracts entrepreneurially talented Nigerians and organizations away from 

enhancing the economy through improved agriculture, industry, or services 

into self-interested public rent-seeking activities that misallocate skills and 

55 Bevan, Collier, and Gunning, The Political Economy of Poverty, Equity, and Growth, 4; and Toyin Falola, 

Culture and Customs of Nigeria (Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 2000), 103, 141. 56 Lewis, Nigeria: Assessing Risks to Stability, 90, 97; and Falola, Culture and Customs of Nigeria, 208. 57 “Corruption Perceptions Index 2011,” Transparency International, http://cpi.transparency.org/cpi2011

/results/; Blessing, Nigeria’s Center(s) of Gravity, 17; and Falola, Culture and Customs of Nigeria, 12–13. 58 Paul Collier and Anke Hoeffler, “The Political Economy of Secession,” in Negotiating Self-Determination, ed. H. Hannum and E. F. Babbitt (Lanham, MD: Lexington Books, 2005), 5. 59 Lewis, “The Dysfunctional State of Nigeria,” 97.

60 Ross, “The Political Economy of the Resource Curse,” 312, 317; Collier and Hoeffler, “The Political 

Economy of Secession,” 5; and Ikpeze, Soludo, and Elekwa, “Nigeria,” 346.
174 The Crisis of the African State

efforts in the overall political economy.61 Rents are sought for direct wealth 

derived through corruption and embezzlement, but also for the power and 

influence they yield when distributed through the political economy to major private sector interest groups, ethnic groups, and government.62 The 

allure of concentrated oil wealth and power was probably also an underlying motive of the 1967 civil war.63 The wealth from rents may be dispersed 

through business contracts, foreign exchange manipulation, appointment 

to public office, trade controls, and bloated public sector employment 

among other ways.64 These rentier state behaviors account for Nigeria’s diverted wealth and reduced potential.

Control of state resources is a sure means to wealth and power in a rentier state, and the more avenues to resources, the more the revenues can be 

tapped.65 In 1960, Nigeria included three large economically viable formal 

political regions that balanced the power of the federal government. In response to a variety of ethnic, regional, and religious rivalries, and to counter 

the threat of secession, Nigeria sequentially fragmented into 36 states by 

1996 (with more proposed but never implemented). This fracturing allowed 

some form of self-determination and economic control for each majority in 

the new ethnically favored states.66 However, it established fault lines that 

vastly increased the power of the central government as most smaller states 

grew dependent on federal handouts as their bureaucracies increased, and 

shut out the many smaller minorities not represented as the majority in a 

state of their own.67 The federal system in Nigeria has been chronically manipulated, often promoting regional interests over national ones.68 States 

from which natural resources originate, mainly in the oil-producing Niger 

Delta region, have gained more revenue through the rent allocation prin61 Wadho, “Education, Rent-seeking and the Curse of Natural Resources,” 3.

62 Ikpeze, Soludo, and Elekwa, “Nigeria,” 344.

63 Ayodele, “Silence on Climate Change and Natural Resources Conflict in Nigeria,” 111.

64 Ikpeze, Soludo, and Elekwa, “Nigeria,” 344; and Bevan, Collier, and Gunning, The Political Economy of 

Poverty, Equity, and Growth, 188. 65 Falola, History of Nigeria, 226; and ICG, Nigeria: Nigeria’s Faltering Federal Experiment, 2. 66 Lewis, Nigeria: Assessing Risks to Stability, 5–6; J. J. Ademola Yakubu, “Ethnicity and the Nigerian 

Constitutions,” in Inter-Ethnic and Religious Conflict Resolution in Nigeria, ed. Ernest E. Uwazie, Isaac 

O. Albert, and Godfrey N. Uzoigwe (Lanham, MD: Lexington Books, 1999), 39; and Falola, History of 

Nigeria, 92, 109. 67 Ibid., 133, 150; ICG, Nigeria: Nigeria’s Faltering Federal Experiment, 5; Bevan, Collier, and Gunning, 

The Political Economy of Poverty, Equity, and Growth, 189; and Lewis, Nigeria: Assessing Risks to Stability, 6. 68 Lewis, “The Dysfunctional State of Nigeria,” 2.
Political Economy and Stability in Nigeria 175

ciple of “derivation,” which compensates the resource-producing states 

with greater cuts of the derived wealth, now standing at 18 percent of rents 

compared to just 3 percent in the early 1990s, although still not as much as 

the producing states desire.69 In 2004, one-third of federal revenue sharing, or $2 billion, went to four oil-producing states, but little of that went 

toward improving infrastructure and public services.70 Control over these 

states makes them lucrative targets of their rent seeking elites, and makes 

vulnerable the rest of the states who are dependent upon the central government’s revenue redistribution and subsidies.71 A stronger centralized 

government makes rent seeking more attractive and easier to dominate, 

thus raising the stakes for all involved.

Another downside to the political economy is that those elites in power, 

and those enjoying the benefits of rents, tend to hinder general economic growth by maintaining the status quo (referred to euphemistically as 

“sharing the national cake”) rather than building development initiatives 

(or “making the cake”).72 This maximizes the immediate resources available 

to the elites in power since their tenure is often tenuous, and panders to 

short-term distributive pressures from constituents rather than long-term 

economic investments.73 Some constituents of elites in power benefit from 

these arrangements in the short term, but such patronage and poor governance weakens state institutions through reduced accountability, buying 

allegiance of some groups through patronage and programs, and alienating opposition groups out of power since they claim little influence through 

taxes or voting.74 The Nigerian armed forces is another organization that 

benefits from the rentier system since their power (either in controlling 

the government or threatening to do so) ensures higher spending on the 

armed forces at the expense of education, health care, and infrastructure.75

As distribution of government-controlled revenues increases, so does con69 ICG, Nigeria: Nigeria’s Faltering Federal Experiment, 5–6; and Lewis, Nigeria: Assessing Risks to Stability, 10–12. 70 ICG, Nigeria: Nigeria’s Faltering Federal Experiment, 9; and Ayodele, “Silence on Climate Change and 

Natural Resources Conflict in Nigeria,” 111.

71 Falola, History of Nigeria, 226; and ICG, Nigeria: Nigeria’s Faltering Federal Experiment, 2. 72 Ikpeze, Soludo, and Elekwa, “Nigeria,” 341–43; Wadho, “Education, Rent-seeking and the Curse of 

Natural Resources,” 2; and Ross, “The Political Economy of the Resource Curse,” 298.

73 Lewis, Nigeria: Assessing Risks to Stability, 87; and Reno, “Shadow States and the Political Economy 

of Civil Wars,” 46.

74 Ross, “The Political Economy of the Resource Curse,” 312; and Lewis, “The Dysfunctional State of 

Nigeria,” 99.

75 Elu, “Human Development in Sub-Saharan Africa,” 57.
176 The Crisis of the African State

flict among groups and individuals over receiving those distributions.76

In a Nigerian society traditionally dependent on client-patron relationships, many constituents expect leaders to claim control of public resources 

to benefit their supporting interest groups through bribery, nepotism, extortion, and favoritism.77 Subordinates are often convinced that they gain 

when their identity groups benefit from the actions of politicians, and are 

thus mobilized to their service.78 This allegiance is reinforced when politicians can deliver public goods to their constituents through patronage 

when the state is ineffectual at doing so.79 To shore up their positions, 

Nigerian leaders may demonize rival identity groups to exacerbate their 

constituents’ collective anxiety and mobilize their self-centered support.80

This explains the Nigerian elite’s relentless pursuit of government office by 

harnessing the antagonisms of their constituent groups to demand representation and access to rents in the form of redistributed public revenue.81

Unfortunately, the trust of Nigerians in these groups is misplaced since 

greedy leaders usually leave little to trickle down, as is evident in the destitute Niger Delta states.82 Elites also tend to be dismissive of their clients 

except when manipulated in support of the elites’ interests.83 This toxic mixture of motivations leaves the Nigerian polity with weakened institutions, 

exploited subordinates, increased violence that fractures Nigerian unity, 

and a poisoned political economy.84

76 Lewis, “The Dysfunctional State of Nigeria,” 99.

77 Alozieuwa, “Beyond the Ethno-Religious Theory of the Jos Conflict,” 28; and Falola, Culture and Customs of Nigeria, 170. 78 Falola, History of Nigeria, 153; Falola, Culture and Customs of Nigeria, 13; and Salisu A. Abdullahi, 

“Ethnicity and Ethnic Relations in Nigeria: The Case of Religious Conflict in Kano,” in Regional and Ethnic 

Conflicts: Perspectives from the Front Lines, ed. Judy Carter, George E. Irani, and Vamik D. Volkan (Upper 

Saddle River, NJ: Pearson Prentice Hall, 2009), 296.

79 Lewis, Nigeria: Assessing Risks to Stability, 9. 80 Alozieuwa, “Beyond the Ethno-Religious Theory of the Jos Conflict,” 24, 27; and Abdullahi, “Ethnicity 

and Ethnic Relations in Nigeria,” 297.

81 Falola, History of Nigeria, 130; Falola, Culture and Customs of Nigeria, 21; Conerly Casey, “Mediated 

Hostility, Generation, and Victimhood in Northern Nigeria,” in Regional and Ethnic Conflicts: Perspectives 

from the Front Lines, 276; and Wadho, “Education, Rent-seeking and the Curse of Natural Resources,” 4. 82 Chris Newsom, Conflict in the Niger Delta: More Than a Local Affair (Washington, DC: U.S. Institute of 

Peace, 2011), 9, http://www.usip.org/files/resources/Conflict_Niger_Delta.pdf; Falola, Culture and Customs of Nigeria, 164; and ICG, Nigeria: Nigeria’s Faltering Federal Experiment, 9. 83 Ibid.; Falola, History of Nigeria, 171; and Alozieuwa, “Beyond the Ethno-Religious Theory of the Jos 

Conflict,” 30.

84 Ibid., 7; Falola, History of Nigeria, 103, 170; and Chris Kwaja, “Nigeria’s Pernicious Drivers of Ethno-Religious 

Conflict,” Africa Security Brief, no. 14 (July 2011): 1, http://africacenter.org/wp-content/uploads/2011/06

/AfricaBriefFinal_14.pdf.
Political Economy and Stability in Nigeria 177

In a rentier economy, government office becomes one of the most effective ways to gain personal riches and power, and creates elites who mainly 

look after their own interests.85 Nigerian leaders have ample opportunity to 

overtly manipulate the political economy to their advantage through such 

measures as preventing repairs to government refineries to benefit vested 

interests in imported petroleum products or stalling construction of much 

needed power plants to profit from generator sales.86 Another visible form 

of rent seeking can be seen in financial services where liberalized rules in 

the 1980s allowed authorities to steer opportunities to cronies in banking, where the privileged could profit from currency control and foreign 

exchange schemes.87 Rent seeking through such overt manipulative methods also encourages illegal transactions, such as petroleum diversion, drug 

trafficking, and commercial fraud.88 The military elite especially gained from 

bunkering89 through exceptional access to oil resulting in hundreds of millions of dollars of smuggled petroleum and explaining, in part, the abiding 

interest in politics by high-ranking military officers.90 Since 1975, an estimated $50–100 billion of Nigeria’s more than $400 billion in oil revenues have 

“disappeared” to corruption and fraud.91 All of this leads to the practice of 

“godfatherism,” where powerful political financers sponsor elected officials 

in return for “influence in running of the state, contracts, money, allocation 

of resources, amenities, employment appoints, etc. in favour of the godfathers.”92 Little wonder then that “six of the world’s one-hundred richest men 

are Nigerian, and each is politically powerful.”93 Nigeria ranked poorly in 

85 Lewis, “The Dysfunctional State of Nigeria,” 99; Abdullahi, “Ethnicity and Ethnic Relations in Nigeria,” 

298; Falola, History of Nigeria, 14; Ike Okonta, “Nigeria’s Homegrown Terrorists,” Project Syndicate, 6 October 2011, http://www.project-syndicate.org/commentary/okonta11/English?utm_medium=referral

&utm_source=pulsenews; and Ikpeze, Soludo, and Elekwa, “Nigeria,” 342.

86 Herman J. Cohen, “Africa: A Light at the End of the Tunnel?,” Air & Space Power Journal–Africa & 

Francophonie 1, no. 3 (Fall 2010): 11–12, http://www.academyofdiplomacy.org/publications/article

_archive/Africa%20by%20Cohen.pdf; and Lewis, Nigeria: Assessing Risks to Stability, 96.

87 Ikpeze, Soludo, and Elekwa, “Nigeria,” 341–42; and Lewis, Nigeria: Assessing Risks to Stability, 89–90, 96. 88 Ibid., 89–90.

89 Bunkering is a maritime term for filling a vessel with fuel. However, the term has been corrupted to 

also mean the surreptitious diverting of fuel and its proceeds for personal gain; a code word for mass 

petroleum theft in Nigeria. 

90 Lewis, Nigeria: Assessing Risks to Stability, 89–90; Ikpeze, Soludo, and Elekwa, “Nigeria,” 344; and 

Falola, Culture and Customs of Nigeria, 227. 91 Blessing, Nigeria’s Center(s) of Gravity, 17. 92 Osumah and Ikelegbe, “The Peoples Democratic Party and Governance in Nigeria, 1999–2007,” 197–98.

93 April A. Gordon and Donald L. Gordon, “Trends and Prospects,” in Understanding Contemporary Africa, ed. Gordon and Gordon (Boulder, CO: Lynne Reinner Publishers, 2007), 399–400.
178 The Crisis of the African State

the perception of corruption with a score of 2.4 out of 10 in 2011, placing 

it 143d out of 180 countries worldwide.94 Corruption also explains why the 

elite resort to crime, including electoral fraud, killing, violence, intimidation, 

and imprisoning opposition members to protect their positions.95 On the 

personal, organizational, and group levels, corrupt policy and institutionalized public crime are demonstrably harmful to the political economy.

Although clearly a detriment, when some forms of extralegal public 

actions are accepted as regular practices, or even encouraged by segments of society, are they still corruption?96 In Nigeria, a long tradition of 

client-patron relationship is engrained in society, where northern elites, 

for example, have ruled for 200 years through patronage and religious 

support.97 Even if these practices are a customary part of Nigerian life, the 

extreme to which such conduct has gone, in comparison to acceptable 

international norms, has made Nigeria’s elite seem “venal, partisan, [and] 

self-serving.”98 Despite President Olusegun Obasanjo’s declaration of zero 

tolerance for corruption during his reign from 1999–2007, corruption remained rampant throughout his administration, as was true before and 

continues today.99

However, in reaching compliance in 2011 with the Extractive Industries Transparency Initiative (EITI)—the international standard for financial, 

physical, and process management of natural resources and their revenues—

Nigerian politicians have displayed rare political will over a contentious 

aspect of the problem by implementing a strong governance regime over 

their resources.100 That is a good start, but laws without adequate implementation are of little help, as abuse of past parliamentary and presidential 

constitutions could not prevent earlier destructive partisanship, corruption, 

and extreme violence in Nigeria. Even if the Nigerian EITI code should hold, 

the parochial political fights over distribution of revenues and its attendant 

94 “Corruption Perceptions Index 2011,” Transparency International.

95 Falola, History of Nigeria, 169–74; and Falola, Culture and Customs of Nigeria, 22–24. 96 Stephen D. K. Ellis, “The Roots of African Corruption,” Current History 105, no. 691 (May 2006): 204; 

and Ikpeze, Soludo, and Elekwa, “Nigeria,” 345.

97 Okonta, “Nigeria’s Homegrown Terrorists.”

98 Isaac O. Albert, “The Sociocultural Politics of Ethnic and Religious Conflicts,” in Inter-Ethnic and Religious Conflict Resolution in Nigeria, ed. Ernest E. Uwaizie, Isaac O. Albert, and Godfrey N. Uzoigwe (Lanham, MD: Lexington Books, 1999), 70, 77; and Kwaja, “Nigeria’s Pernicious Drivers of Ethno-Religious 

Conflict,” 1.

99 Osumah and Ikelegbe, “The Peoples Democratic Party and Governance in Nigeria, 1999–2007,” 189.

100 U.S. Energy Information Administration (EIA), “Nigeria” (Washington, DC: U.S. Department of Energy, 

August 2011), http://www.eia.gov/countries/cab.cfm?fips=NI.
Political Economy and Stability in Nigeria 179

evils will continue. Such revenue is a rich, but finite resource in a poor country. Strong leadership can correct the problems of weak institutions and 

properly execute well-intentioned laws, but Nigeria has seldom seen such 

leadership. This is where ethnic, religious, regional, political, and other interest groups complicate the operation of Nigeria’s political economy.

The Causes of Clashes

The people of Nigeria are a rich mix of many languages, beliefs, religions, 

customs, and agricultural and political systems. Such diversity could be 

a national strength for the country, but these differences are more often 

accentuated to gain advantage for a specific group or individual at the 

expense of the general population’s welfare. This is particularly true in an 

environment of limited resources and a declining political or economic order in which people tend to band together into ethnic, religious, or other 

groups to better compete against those not of the same ilk.101 The politicization of such diversity in Nigeria by its elite “instrumentalizes identity” for 

their manipulation, and these groups are often organized into “Mafia-like 

associations” used as “pawns on the chessboard of the political elite.”102

Although control over spoils from the political economy may be the ultimate motivating force for fracturing and violence in Nigeria, the splits 

occur along many identifiable cultural and regional lines over power and 

the distribution of public resources.103 Since the mid-1980s, the violence 

attributed to religious, ethnic, political, and economic factors has increased 

in Nigeria, with between 12,000 and 18,000 deaths under civilian rule from 

1999 to 2009.104 Mass media perceptions may spotlight cultural grounds 

101 Victor-Yves Ghebali, “CSCM—A Chance for Peace in the Middle East,” International Defense Review (February 1992), 118; LaVerle Berry, “The Society and Its Environment,” in Algeria: A Country Study (Washington, 

DC: Headquarters, Department of the Army, 1985), 105; and Lewis, Nigeria: Assessing Risks to Stability, 9–10. 102 Ikpeze, Soludo, and Elekwa, “Nigeria,” 345; Lewis, Nigeria: Assessing Risks to Stability, 5; Albert, “The 

Sociocultural Politics of Ethnic and Religious Conflicts,” 81; Falola, History of Nigeria, 91; Kwaja, “Nigeria’s Pernicious Drivers of Ethno-Religious Conflict,” 2–4; and Alozieuwa, “Beyond the Ethno-Religious 

Theory of the Jos Conflict,” 29–30.

103 ICG, Nigeria: Nigeria’s Faltering Federal Experiment, 12–13; and ICG, Northern Nigeria: Background 

to Conflict, Africa Report No. 168 (Brussels: International Crisis Group, 20 December 2010), 20, http://

www.crisisgroup.org/~/media/Files/africa/west-africa/nigeria/168%20Northern%20Nigeria%20-%20

Background%20to%20Conflict.pdf.

104 Otive Igbuzor, “Nigeria’s Experience in Managing the Challenges of Ethnic and Religious Diversity through Constitutional Provisions,” Ethnic Nationalities Council, 2012, http://www.encburma.net

/index.php/feature/54-feature/166-nigerias-experience-in-managing-the-challenges-of-ethnic-a

-religious-diversity-through-constitutional-provisions.html; Adebajo, The Curse of Berlin, 134; and 

Lewis, Nigeria: Assessing Risks to Stability, 2.
180 The Crisis of the African State

for Nigeria’s violence, but the actual causes are much more interdependent 

and complex, as this section shows by examining two major fault lines in 

Nigeria among religious and ethnic groups.

Conflict between approximately 50 percent of Nigerians who are Muslim 

and 40 percent who are Christian is the most obvious of the religious conflicts in the news since it is easy to differentiate and demonize others, and 

“exhortations to violence acquire greater potency once framed in religious 

terms.”105 As in other parts of the world, Islamic movements in Nigeria seek 

political reform to conform with religious beliefs or traditional practices, especially in education.106 Since first demanded in 1978, these movements 

have attained full implementation of sharia law in nine northern Nigerian 

states,107 but with accompanying widespread protest and violence, killing 

thousands of people and displacing whole communities that remain divided 

and polarized.108 During the height of clashes in February 2000, then-President Obasanjo declared the resulting fighting the worse violence since the 

civil war.109 In response to imposition of Muslim law and the fear of an agenda to make all of Nigeria an Islamic state, some states in the southeast, most 

vocally Cross River, threatened to implement “Christian law.”110 Although 

violence over sharia’s implementation has since declined, it remains as a 

source of tension between the right to worship and secular values.111

Within Islam, intrareligious tensions abound. Although Muslim Nigerians 

are predominately Sufi, its adherents within the Qadiriyya and Tijaniyya orders have clashed over economic and political power through much of the 

twentieth century. Since the 1970s, both groups have been vehemently opposed by the native Izala group, a Salafist movement, demanding a more 

105 ICG, Northern Nigeria: Background to Conflict, 21. 106 Terje Østebo, “Islamic Militancy in Africa,” Africa Security Brief, no. 23 (November 2012): 2, http://

africacenter.org/wp-content/uploads/2012/11/AfricaBriefFinal_23-2.pdf; and Falola, Culture and Customs of Nigeria, 44. 107 These nine states are joined by three more with partial implementation and include: Bauchi, Borno, 

Gombe, Jigawa, Kaduna, Kano, Katsina, Kebbi, Niger, Sokoto, Yobe, and Zamfara. See, ICG, Northern 

Nigeria: Background to Conflict, 1. 108 Falola, History of Nigeria, 32; ICG, Northern Nigeria: Background to Conflict, 13; Falola, Culture and 

Customs of Nigeria, 24–25; Kwaja, “Nigeria’s Pernicious Drivers of Ethno-Religious Conflict,” 5; and Muhammad Sani Umar, “Weak States and Democratization: Ethnic and Religious Conflicts in Nigeria,” in 

Identity Conflicts: Can Violence Be Regulated?, ed. J. Craig Jenkins and Esther E. Gottlieb (New Brunswick, NJ: Transaction Publishers, 2007), 268.

109 Jonathan T. Reynolds, “Nigeria and Shari’a: Religion and Politics in a West African Nation,” History 

Behind the Headlines 2 (2001): 215. 110 Ibid., 217; and Falola, History of Nigeria, 29–31. 111 ICG, Nigeria: Nigeria’s Faltering Federal Experiment, i; and Reynolds, “Nigeria and Shari’a,” 217.
Political Economy and Stability in Nigeria 181

orthodox and public role for Islam against these older political and religious 

structures.112 Since the mid-1990s, clashes have increased between Sunni 

and Shia believers in the north too.113 Militant Islamism has fomented violence 

in Nigeria since the “riots” of the 1980s. The most recent of these militant 

threats comes from the group popularly known as Boko Haram (meaning 

Western education is forbidden, which is indicative of its principles), operating in many of the same cities as did the Maitatsine sect, and is the most 

violent of the militant Salafist groups in Nigeria today.114 Boko Haram has 

claimed responsibility for numerous terrorist attacks against Christian and 

government targets that have killed thousands of people since 2003, including the 2011 bombing of the United Nations headquarters in the Nigerian 

capital of Abuja, the 2012 vehicle-born suicide attacks against senior military officers attending church at the Nigerian Armed Forces Command and 

Staff College, the notorious abduction of more than 200 girls from a school 

in northern Nigeria in 2014, and the seizure of the town and military base 

in Baga in 2015 that may have killed 2,000 people in possibly its deadliest 

attack to date.115 Some northern politicians have tried to use this group to 

advance their agenda, but Boko Haram is not controlled by the northern 

elites and seems to receive training and assistance from outside supporters, including al-Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb (AQIM) and IS.

116 Ominously, 

Boko Haram may be assisting other Muslim militants against Christians in 

these religious-political-economic conflicts.117 By 2015, Boko Haram may 

112 Falola, Culture and Customs of Nigeria, 40; ICG, Nigeria: Nigeria’s Faltering Federal Experiment, i, 6, 

24; Abdullahi, “Ethnicity and Ethnic Relations in Nigeria,” 293; Lewis, Nigeria: Assessing Risks to Stability, 

11; and Østebo, “Islamic Militancy in Africa,” 2.

113 ICG, Northern Nigeria: Background to Conflict, 20. 114 Scott Stewart, “Is Boko Haram More Dangerous than Ever?,” StratFor’s Security Weekly, 13 December 

2012, http://www.stratfor.com/weekly/boko-haram-more-dangerous-ever?utm_source=freelist-f&utm

_medium=email&utm_campaign=20121213&utm_term=sweekly&utm_content=readmore&elq=fcb8c1a27ee34bf4851b3ec0f5b0bb22.

115 Østebo, “Islamic Militancy in Africa,” 2; and Scott Stewart, “The Rising Threat from Nigeria’s Boko Haram 

Militant Group,” StratFor’s Security Weekly, 10 November 2011, http://www.stratfor.com/weekly/20111109

-rising-threat-nigerias-boko-haram-militant-group?utm_source=freelist-f&utm_medium=email&utm

_campaign=111110&utm_term=sweekly&utm_content=readmore&elq=a33db215cff347ffb5222bf4c45fb5d7; “Nigeria Kidnapped Girls ‘Shown in Boko Haram Video’,” BBC News, 12 May 2014, http://www

.bbc.com/news/world-africa-27373287; and Faith Karimi and Aminu Abubakar, “Nine Days Later, Bodies 

Still Litter Bushes from Boko Haram’s ‘Deadliest’ Massacre,” CNN News, 12 January 2015, http://www.cnn

.com/2015/01/12/africa/boko-haram-deadliest-attack/.

116 Stewart, “The Rising Threat from Nigeria’s Boko Haram Militant Group”; and ICG, Northern Nigeria: 

Background to Conflict, i, 20. 117 ICG, Curbing Violence in Nigeria (I): The Jos Crisis, Africa Report No. 196 (Brussels: International 

Crisis Group, 17 December 2012), 19.
182 The Crisis of the African State

control 20 percent of the Nigerian state, demonstrating its strength in what 

may have developed into a full insurgency to gain at least regional control.118

For decades, religious fighting has been reported as a major cause of violence in Nigeria, and indeed it is a means for groups to seize and control 

power and resources.

On the surface, religious tensions may explain some long-term conflicts 

like those between Muslim Fulanis and Christian Berom and Tarok in central 

Plateau state in which Taroks were accused of killing hundreds and burning 72 villages in 2002 and 2003.119 However, this antagonism is probably 

more a classic economic conflict between pastoralists and farmers, as suggested by the Catholic archbishop of Abuja,120 describing tensions as old 

as the Cain and Abel teaching revered in both religions. Numerous cases 

of interfaith cooperation do exist throughout Nigeria with, for example, the 

Yoruba, one of the three largest ethnic groups of Nigeria, split among Muslim, Christian, and animist followers who peacefully coexist in their cities and 

households.121 In northern Nigeria, far more cases abound of defused conflicts, interfaith consultation, and emphasis on tolerance and respect from 

Christian and Muslim leaders than are reported.122 Two successful programs 

promoting peace are Operation Yaki in Kaduna state and Operation Rainbow in Plateau state, both of which seek to “revive the economy, enhance 

dialogue with and between different communities and act as a mediation 

agency . . .”123 When manipulated, religious differences can become a 

divisive political tool, adding legitimacy to efforts pursuing power and economic gain, and it is in this light that such conflicts should be examined.124

Mobilizing religious groups has been an important tool in Nigerian politics. Although individual Muslims and Islamic groups are found throughout 

the country, they are most concentrated and religiously politically active 

in the 19 northern predominantly Muslim states. For them, Islamic identity fosters regional unity and maintains established privileges for the elite, 

118 Audie Cornish and Alexis Okeowo, “Boko Haram May Control Up to 20 Percent of Nigeria,” National Public Radio, 13 January 2015, http://www.npr.org/2015/01/13/377024729/boko-haram-may

-control-up-to-20-percent-of-nigeria.

119 ICG, Nigeria: Nigeria’s Faltering Federal Experiment, 13. 120 Alozieuwa, “Beyond the Ethno-Religious Theory of the Jos Conflict,” 25. 121 Falola, Culture and Customs of Nigeria, 40. 122 ICG, Northern Nigeria: Background to Conflict, 13, 20. 123 ICG, Curbing Violence in Nigeria (I), 22. 124 ICG, Northern Nigeria: Background to Conflict, 21; and Casey, “Mediated Hostility, Generation, and 

Victimhood in Northern Nigeria,” 276.
Political Economy and Stability in Nigeria 183

especially through controversial demands for sharia law.125 Muslims reject 

the modern secular Western imperative to separate religious and political 

activities and, since the ninth century when Islam first arrived in present 

Nigeria, it has been used extensively by indigenous rulers to legitimize 

their rule and organize their lands from the early Kanem-Borno Empire to 

the nineteenth-century Sokoto caliphate.126 Conversions from indigenous 

beliefs to Islam were often heartfelt, but could also be forced to assert hegemony, with some minorities opposing coercion by instead embracing 

Christianity with the later advantage of associating with European systems 

during British rule that also came with such resistance.127 Jihad by the people was also used by the great Usman dan Fodio in the early 1800s against 

exploitation by the elite of his day, to go on to establish the Sokoto Caliphate and show how mobilization of the faithful could be an agent of 

change. That method is still used today by extreme groups like Boko Haram and some northern politicians who thought they could control it for 

their own purposes.128 The rise of Boko Haram and the Maitatsine unrest 

before it may lay outside the dynamics of the political economy motivations discussed in this chapter and would greatly complicate the quelling 

of internal divisions in Nigeria should it gain a real following in the country.

Both Muslim and Christian leaders have politicized their faithful’s allegiance to mobilize and give dignity to marginalized constituents, “demonize 

opponents,” and gain power since “religion provides a legitimizing framework for violence that would otherwise be considered unacceptable.”129

Religion then is often a fast and easy way to obtain and manipulate power 

in Nigeria—fighting over position and power rather than developing and 

delivering relevant policies and political platforms.130 Consequently, for decades, sectarian violence has become a weapon for economic and political 

gain, including communal distribution of public resources and religious125 Falola, History of Nigeria, 32; and ICG, Northern Nigeria: Background to Conflict, 22. 126 Abdullahi, “Ethnicity and Ethnic Relations in Nigeria,” 292; Falola, Culture and Customs of Nigeria, 19, 

28; and ICG, Nigeria: Nigeria’s Faltering Federal Experiment, 3. 127 Ibid; ICG, Northern Nigeria: Background to Conflict, 5; and Alozieuwa, “Beyond the Ethno-Religious 

Theory of the Jos Conflict,” 22.

128 Falola, Culture and Customs of Nigeria, 36; Østebo, “Islamic Militancy in Africa,” 3; and Stewart, “Is 

Boko Haram More Dangerous than Ever?”

129 Østebo, “Islamic Militancy in Africa,” 3; Alozieuwa, “Beyond the Ethno-Religious Theory of the Jos 

Conflict,” 22; and ICG, Curbing Violence in Nigeria (I), 21. 130 Falola, Culture and Customs of Nigeria, 49; and Abdullahi, “Ethnicity and Ethnic Relations in Nigeria,” 

296.
184 The Crisis of the African State

ly oriented legal structures, through such overt uses as religious verses in 

political songs to burning rival houses of worship.131 Mobilizing religious 

movements for political causes often brings a sense of empowerment to 

the marginalized members of society, sometimes quite easily given the 

general dissatisfaction of Nigerians with their circumstances, and may explain why religious beliefs appear to be the cause of violence, but is more 

commonly a tool to incite violence for other reasons.132

Although communal rivalry over faith issues is part of Nigeria’s conflicts, 

religious manipulation to gain political economic advantage is more the 

root cause of divisiveness.133 Political parties in Nigeria were often organized around regional religious special interest groups. Northerners, with a 

common history and a more defined regional religious identity, have been 

particularly effective at organizing collective action for their region’s benefit, explaining why northerners have dominated Nigeria politically through 

most of its history.134 The Northern People’s Congress (NPC), for example, 

was the dominant party during Nigeria’s formation and, as part of its persona, NPC invoked the legacy of the northern Nigerian Islamic caliphate to 

its advantage.135 The National Party of Nigeria (NPN), despite its name, also 

covertly manipulated religion in its strategies to win Muslim votes as the 

northern leaning political party that dominated Nigeria’s Second Republic.136 Although overtly political religious organizations are now banned, 

countrywide Islamic organizations like Jama’atu Nasril Islam (roughly translated as Society for the Support of Islam) protect its members’ interests 

while fostering education and spreading the faith.137 On the other side, 

Biafran separatists were quite successful internationally portraying their 

cause as a Christian east resisting dominance by an Islamic north during Ni131 ICG, Lessons from Nigeria’s 2011 Elections, Africa Briefing No. 81 (Brussels: International Crisis Group, 

15 September 2011), 7–8, http://www.crisisgroup.org/~/media/Files/africa/west-africa/nigeria/B81%20

-%20Lessons%20from%20Nigeras%202011%20Elections.pdf; Falola, History of Nigeria, 168; and Osumah and Ikelegbe, “The Peoples Democratic Party and Governance in Nigeria, 1999–2007,” 189.

132 ICG, Northern Nigeria: Background to Conflict, ii; and Abdullahi, “Ethnicity and Ethnic Relations in 

Nigeria,” 296.

133 Alozieuwa, “Beyond the Ethno-Religious Theory of the Jos Conflict,” 20; Igbuzor, “Nigeria’s Experience in Managing the Challenges of Ethnic and Religious Diversity through Constitutional Provisions”; 

and Falola, Culture and Customs of Nigeria, 49. 134 Lewis, “The Dysfunctional State of Nigeria,” 97. 135 Falola, Culture and Customs of Nigeria, 91. 136 Ibid., 168. 137 Ibid., 43.
Political Economy and Stability in Nigeria 185

geria’s civil war.138 During the tumultuous years from 1983 to 1998 between 

the Second and Fourth Republics, political parties were circumscribed or 

banned, so mainstream religious organizations filled the political void as 

they “began to resemble political parties; not only did they make important 

demands, they also mobilized their members.”139 Thus political activity by 

religious groups is deeply rooted in Nigeria, and their rivalries have set an 

enduring model of how to effectively mobilize for power. 

Conflict among the approximately 250 ethnic and cultural groups140 of 

Nigeria is another commonly depicted source of friction that, like religion, 

masks political-economic roots.141 Of these many groups, however, 10 

account for 80 percent of the population, and only 3 groups—the closely 

aligned Hausa and Fulani in the north (28 percent), Yoruba in the southwest 

(20 percent), and Igbo in the southeast (17 percent)—dominate politics and 

the economy.142 As mentioned earlier, while the NPN and NPC stand as examples of parties who used religious affiliations for political purposes, ethnic 

allegiance was also the basis for forming political parties in Nigeria, particularly since ethnic and religious identity are often commonly held there is 

much overlap in these processes. Also, like religiously motivated parties, 

ethnic allegiance is an easy and efficient means to mobilize supporters by 

saving on recruiting and organizational time and costs, while assuming the 

cloak of social justice among its members and avoiding substantive policy 

matters.143 This practice traces back to the British colonial policy of indirect 

rule, or Native Authority system, under which culturally affiliated power prevailed through the use of existing traditional ethnic elites. Political parties 

coalesced around these ethnic self-interest groups when such activity was 

allowed in the 1940s and created an “aggressive regionalism based on cul138 Ibid., 124. 139 Ibid., 187. 140 For our purposes, 200–300 ethnic groups are the usual ranges given based on definitions using language, customs, history, ancestry, foods, social organization, settlement patterns, and location among 

other characteristics. For more information, see http://www.onlinenigeria.com/tribes, which lists 371 

tribes by name and location.

141 Falola, Culture and Customs of Nigeria, 4, 6; Alozieuwa, “Beyond the Ethno-Religious Theory of the 

Jos Conflict,” 26; ICG, Northern Nigeria: Background to Conflict, 2; and Abdullahi, “Ethnicity and Ethnic 

Relations in Nigeria,” 292.

142 Christopher Hewitt and Tom Cheetham, Encyclopedia of Modern Separatist Movements (Santa Barbara, CA: ABC-CLIO, 2000), 206; Falola, Culture and Customs of Nigeria, 5; and Blessing, Nigeria’s Center(s) of Gravity, 18. 143 Muhammed Tawfiq Ladan, “The Role of Youth in Inter-Ethnic and Religious Conflicts: The Kaduna/

Kano Case Study,” in Inter-Ethnic and Religious Conflict Resolution in Nigeria, 98.
186 The Crisis of the African State

tural, religious, and economic differences,” which intensified in the politics 

of independent Nigeria.144 Ethnic and cultural affiliation remains a common, 

if less overt, practice in Nigerian politics today.

Powerful political parties into the 1980s often represented regions and 

“grew out of ethno-religious and cultural associations,” such as the Egbe 

Omo Oduduwa (Society of the Descendants of Oduduwa) in the Yoruba 

southwest became the Action Group, the Jamiyya Mutanen Arewa in the 

Hausa-Fulani north formed the NPC and Northern Elements Progressive 

Union (NEPU), and the National Council of Nigeria and the Cameroons 

(NCNC) formed from an array of cultural associations and labor movements 

primarily in the Igbo southeast.145 These arrangements, however, left hundreds of minority groups either dependent upon one of the three major 

ethnic-regional parties or essentially disenfranchised, and sometimes resulted in defining other ethnic groups as political rivals.146 Ethnic parties 

were important in Nigeria because to advance as a community meant controlling government to ensure access to its resources and power. Once in 

power, the communal group must dominate to prevent the rise of competitors.147 These rivalries based on ethnic, religious, and regional alliances 

waged zero-sum fights against each other, rather than act as national political parties addressing strategic issues.148

An example of such rivalry comes from one of Nigeria’s first political crises 

that, in 1963, forced the partition of the midwest region from the western 

region and started the fragmentation and Balkanization of Nigerian states.149

At the time, cocoa was Nigeria’s major export, primary rentier product, and 

grown mostly in the southwest. An alliance of northern and southeastern 

interests assured their federal distribution of cocoa revenues and was opportunistic in rending the western region as a way to weaken the Yoruba 

monopoly over cocoa production. When oil was discovered in the southeast 

144 Hewitt and Cheetham, Encyclopedia of Modern Separatist Movements, 206; and Falola, Culture and 

Customs of Nigeria, 167. 145 Matthew Todd Bradley, “Inter-Ethnic Antagonism in Post-Colonial Nigeria: Ethnicity vs. Symbolic Nationalism,” Journal of Cultural Studies 7, no. 1 (2006): 71; Osumah and Ikelegbe, “The Peoples Democratic Party and Governance in Nigeria, 1999–2007,” 189; and Falola, Culture and Customs of Nigeria, 91. 146 Osumah and Ikelegbe, “The Peoples Democratic Party and Governance in Nigeria, 1999–2007,” 189; 

and ICG, Nigeria: Nigeria’s Faltering Federal Experiment, 2. 147 Lewis, “The Dysfunctional State of Nigeria,” 97. 148 Bradley, “Inter-Ethnic Antagonism in Post-Colonial Nigeria,” 71; Falola, Culture and Customs of Nigeria, 99, 224; Lewis, Nigeria: Assessing Risks to Stability, 7; and ICG, Curbing Violence in Nigeria (I), 4. 149 Falola, Culture and Customs of Nigeria, 104.
Political Economy and Stability in Nigeria 187

in 1965, this alliance dissolved and a northern-southwestern alliance formed 

to ensure distribution of oil revenues.150 It was this alliance that fought Biafran 

independence when southeastern interests sought full control over oil (and 

to counter ethnic violence against Igbos) through secession leading to approximately two million deaths.151 From its beginnings, Nigerian politics has 

been fraught with political-economic ethnic clashes.

The historic momentum of ethnic-based clashes still agitates Nigerian 

politics but not as overtly as in its past. Historically, Nigerian political parties were mainly determined by ethnic affiliation and were often hostile 

to one another.152 The poisonous effects on the national well-being from 

tribal and sectarian political organizations was clear after the Nigerian civil 

war, however, and became the catalyst to ban political parties with ethnic 

or religious affiliations in the 1979 constitution and again in the 1989 and 

1999 constitutions.153 In addition to the prohibition of ethnic and religious 

parties, the constitution further stipulates that political parties contending 

at the national level must also have countrywide representation to encourage nationwide support and address national issues. A Nigerian president 

must not only win a simple majority of all votes cast in the country, but also 

at least 25 percent of the vote in two-thirds of the states.154 Within these 

laws, however, modern Nigerian politics has retained regional, ethnic, and 

religious biases since political activity was again allowed in 1998. Modern 

parties often hold a strong base in a region associated with an ethnic group 

or religion, such as the Unity Party of Nigeria and Alliance for Democracy 

both from the southwest, the governing People’s Redemption Party from 

150 Collier and Hoeffler, “The Political Economy of Secession,” 17. 151 Hewitt and Cheetham, Encyclopedia of Modern Separatist Movements, 45; American University 

School of International Service, The Biafran War (Washington, DC: American University School of International Service, November 1997), http://www1.american.edu/ted/ice/biafra.htm; and Reynolds, “Nigeria and Shari’a,” 215.

152 Adebola B. Ekanola, “National Integration and the Survival of Nigeria in the 21st Century,” Journal of 

Social, Political, and Economic Studies 31, no. 3 (Fall 2006): 287; and Bradley, “Inter-Ethnic Antagonism 

in Post-Colonial Nigeria,” 71.

153 Section 202 of the constitution of the Second Republic, section 220 of the 1989 constitution, and 

section 221 of the constitution of the Fourth Republic. All three constitutions also ban the formation 

of any religion as a state religion in sections 10, 11, and 10, respectively. Sections 125-6, 130-2, and 

131-4 govern the requirements for multiregional support for the election of the president as described 

later. See Igbuzor, “Nigeria’s Experience in Managing the Challenges of Ethnic and Religious Diversity 

through Constitutional Provisions.”

154 Anthony Osae-Brown, “Mathematics of Winning the Presidential Polls,” Business Day, 14 April 2011; 

Igbuzor, “Nigeria’s Experience in Managing the Challenges of Ethnic and Religious Diversity through 

Constitutional Provisions”; and Falola, Culture and Customs of Nigeria, 163.
188 The Crisis of the African State

the north, and All Progressives Grand Alliance in the southeast—many centered around competing elites.155 Despite the ban on ethnic and religiously 

based political activity, this long Nigerian tradition of ethnic group advocacy and manipulation continues through ethnically organized violence for 

parochial political interests and control of resources,156 but the law itself 

may play a role in ethnic and religious fighting too.

Despite laws to the contrary, ethnic and religious affiliation remains an 

important basis for achieving political demands and redistribution of public 

wealth in Nigeria. As corruption and weak governance continue, Nigerians 

have found consolidated ethnic action a better means to meet their expectations.157 The best example of this today can be seen in the Niger Delta 

region, which serves as the source of most of Nigeria’s oil wealth (producing $200 billion in a decade) but also endures the lowest standard of living 

in the republic, suffers under heavy patronage and corruption, and hosts a 

severely degraded environment from the production of its resources.158 The 

60 or so minority groups living in the delta are mainly disenfranchised and 

believe they should receive more than the 18 percent of revenue from their 

oil wealth that the region currently receives under Nigeria’s “derivation principle of revenue allocation.”159 Not surprisingly, the emerging cultural and 

political entity, which calls themselves the “Delta People,” also hosts Nigeria’s 

most potent, if currently suppressed, independence movement and at least 

two liberation factions in the Niger Delta People’s Volunteer Force and the 

Movement for the Emancipation of the Niger Delta.160 Their identity is, in part, 

a tool of delta politicians who encouraged its creation and the violent actions 

of local groups as a means to gain a greater share in Nigeria’s oil revenue distribution than they had been able to obtain by working within the system.161

155 Igbuzor, “Nigeria’s Experience in Managing the Challenges of Ethnic and Religious Diversity through 

Constitutional Provisions”; and Lewis, Nigeria: Assessing Risks to Stability, 8. 156 Umar, “Weak States and Democratization,” 265; Abdullahi, “Ethnicity and Ethnic Relations in Nigeria,” 

295; and Kwaja, “Nigeria’s Pernicious Drivers of Ethno-Religious Conflict,” 2.

157 Osumah and Ikelegbe, “The Peoples Democratic Party and Governance in Nigeria, 1999–2007,” 197. 158 Newsom, Conflict in the Niger Delta, 5; Falola, Culture and Customs of Nigeria, 25; and ICG, Nigeria: 

Nigeria’s Faltering Federal Experiment, 8, 16. 159 Blessing, Nigeria’s Center(s) of Gravity, 18; ICG, Nigeria: Nigeria’s Faltering Federal Experiment, 5–6; 

and Lewis, Nigeria: Assessing Risks to Stability, 10–12. 160 Akpomuvie Orhioghene Benedict, “Breaking Barriers to Transformation of the Niger Delta Region of 

Nigeria: A Human Development Paradigm,” Journal of Sustainable Development 4, no. 3 (June 2011): 

211; ICG, Nigeria: Nigeria’s Faltering Federal Experiment, 5–6; Lewis, Nigeria: Assessing Risks to Stability, 10–12; and Collier and Hoeffler, “The Political Economy of Secession,” 18.

161 Stewart, “The Rising Threat from Nigeria’s Boko Haram Militant Group.”
Political Economy and Stability in Nigeria 189

The general lack of community security and adequate core government 

services throughout Nigeria has encouraged the rise of vigilantism and 

ethnic militias to provide protection through such organizations as the Oodua Peoples Congress, a nationalist Yoruba group, and the Bakassi Boys, 

Igbo vigilantes—all of which also resort to violent actions to pressure outside groups to attain their political or economic demands.162 As already 

shown, the situation in Nigeria is played as a zero-sum game. Ethnic and 

religious groups feud with each other over scarce Nigerian resources and 

ideological differences, so much so that ethnic and religious clashes remain 

a chronic problem with more than 40 major communal clashes recorded 

from 1999 to 2002.163 Between 15 August and 12 September 2011, 150 

people lost their lives in communal violence, and in a two-week period a 

year later in August 2012, 57 people were killed through ethnoreligious 

clashes and their suppression.164 In all of 2012, its most deadly year to date, 

Boko Haram is reported to have killed about 770 people through terrorist 

attacks.165 Although such groups and activities are illegal in Nigeria, they 

endure because they meet their members’ needs when the government 

cannot do so, despite the cost to the general welfare.

The law also makes ethnic battles more common in Nigeria, as a way to 

assert control over the political economy. The concept of “indigeneship” 

started as British policy in the 1940s and was enshrined in Section 147 (3) 

of the 1999 constitution as the “‘original’ inhabitants of a local government 

area, or members of those ethnic groups that trace their lineage back to 

the area. All others are considered ‘settlers’ or migrants.”166 Originally this 

device was meant to preserve the culture and authority structures of native 

minorities, but it has become polarizing by excluding some basic rights of 

nonindigenes in terms of political participation, land ownership, employment, or education.167 In practice, some citizens have different rights at the 

162 Casey, “Mediated Hostility, Generation, and Victimhood in Northern Nigeria,” 285; Queen Florence 

Uwazie, “The Emergence of Political Terrorism in Nigeria,” in Inter-Ethnic and Religious Conflict Resolution in Nigeria, 116–17; Igbuzor, “Nigeria’s Experience in Managing the Challenges of Ethnic and Religious Diversity through Constitutional Provisions”; and Reno, “Shadow States and the Political Economy 

of Civil Wars,” 51.

163 Abdullahi, “Ethnicity and Ethnic Relations in Nigeria,” 295. 164 ICG, Curbing Violence in Nigeria (I), 14; and Algis Ratnikas, “Timeline Nigeria,” Timelines of History, 

http://timelines.ws/countries/NIGERIA.HTML.

165 Stewart, “Is Boko Haram More Dangerous than Ever?” 166 ICG, Curbing Violence in Nigeria (I); and Kwaja, “Nigeria’s Pernicious Drivers of Ethno-Religious Conflict,” 2.

167 Ibid.; and ICG, Nigeria: Nigeria’s Faltering Federal Experiment, 12.
190 The Crisis of the African State

local and national levels, which contravene other constitutional guarantees 

of freedom from discrimination and freedom of movement within the federation—an ambiguous paradox that creates friction and violence in society.168

These problems arise when an indigenous population fears domination by 

a migrant group with the diminishment of their own political power and the 

economic consequences that may result.169 “Elected officials, in turn, have 

a strong incentive to issue certificates [of indigeneship] as a tool to consolidate local ethnic majorities,”170 a practice that dates back to the 1960s 

and gives local officials great power. However, this practice also leads to 

“sharp differences in intergroup inequality, intercommunal animosity, and 

social fragmentation,” and is associated with both patronage and outright 

corruption.171

The previously referenced Plateau state exemplifies the problems of indigeneship, as a region along the seam of many religious and ethnic groups; 

although it had previously epitomized the slogan “home of peace and tourism.”172 Here indigenous politicians and groups fear and denigrate Muslim 

migrants, particularly Hausa and Fulani settlers, as wanting to dominate local politics as they once did when Plateau was part of the former Northern 

region before the 1976 “Christian indigene emancipation.”173 The agricultural Berom minority, who are bereft of federal patronage or connections, 

have experienced the abuse of federal power to take away their lands or 

pollute them from nearby tin mines, and they fear the better connected 

Hausa and Fulani will further displace them as the latters’ powers grow locally.174 The 2002–3 violence by native Tarok in Wase against Hausa and 

Fulani villages and the 2004 Tarok bloodshed that killed hundreds of Muslim Jarawa were about “interlopers attempting to claim [indigene] benefits 

to which they were not entitled.”175 Such desperation stems from “political 

marginalizations and economic deprivation,” compounded by poor gover168 Ibid., 3–4, 12; and ICG, Curbing Violence in Nigeria (I), 3. 169 Alozieuwa, “Beyond the Ethno-Religious Theory of the Jos Conflict,” 29–30. 170 Kwaja, “Nigeria’s Pernicious Drivers of Ethno-Religious Conflict,” 3. 171 Ibid.; and ICG, Curbing Violence in Nigeria (I), 5. 172 Kwaja, “Nigeria’s Pernicious Drivers of Ethno-Religious Conflict,” 2. 173 Alozieuwa, “Beyond the Ethno-Religious Theory of the Jos Conflict,” 29–30; Kwaja, “Nigeria’s Pernicious Drivers of Ethno-Religious Conflict,” 3; ICG, Curbing Violence in Nigeria (I), 6; and ICG, Nigeria: 

Nigeria’s Faltering Federal Experiment, 13. 174 Alozieuwa, “Beyond the Ethno-Religious Theory of the Jos Conflict,” 25. 175 ICG, Nigeria: Nigeria’s Faltering Federal Experiment, 13.
Political Economy and Stability in Nigeria 191

nance and opportunistic ethnic leaders.176 Those labeled as migrants see 

instead a policy that guarantees entitlement to local power and resources, 

leading to corruption and partisanship, which contravenes basic civil rights 

in the constitution.177 From Plateau state’s capital of Jos to the conservative Muslim northern state of Kaduna to the oil-rich southern Delta state 

and many places in between, “the material ramifications of losing indigeneship are tangible drivers of [communal and ethnic] violence.”178 To reverse 

these trends, Sokoto state has implemented a zero-discrimination policy in 

education and balanced employment opportunities for indigenes and settlers.179 Control over political power and economic well-being through the 

advantages of indigeneship is a central underlying factor upon which religious, ethnic, and regional rivalries, violence, and fragmentation occur.180

Even when the law in Nigeria is more straightforward than the confusion 

over indigeneship, poor governance and implementation also foster cultural conflict over power. The rule of law remains weak in Nigeria, in part, 

because of corrupt and self-serving leaders who have ample opportunity 

to bend or ignore even the constitution. Section 11 in the 1999 constitution (and similar sections in earlier constitutions) specifically bans the 

formation of any state religion, but has not stopped full implementation 

of Islamic sharia law in nine northern states and partial implementation 

in three more.181 In another example, the law that ensures wide representation in different ethnic regions of the country in presidential elections 

was flaunted during the 1979 elections that initiated the short-lived Second Republic. In that election, the required representation of two-thirds 

of the then-19 states in Nigeria was assumed to mean 13 states. However, the leading contender, Alhaji Shehu Shagari, received the necessary 

25 percent representation in only 12 states. To avoid a run-off election, 

the Nigerian Supreme Court reinterpreted two-thirds to mean 12 and 2/3 

states and awarded the presidency to Shagari based on a contrived geographic-mathematic interpretation.182 These are just two examples of why 

176 Ibid., 4. 177 Ibid., 13. 178 Kwaja, “Nigeria’s Pernicious Drivers of Ethno-Religious Conflict,” 3–4; and ICG, Nigeria: Nigeria’s Faltering Federal Experiment, 13. 179 ICG, Curbing Violence in Nigeria (I), 24. 180 Kwaja, “Nigeria’s Pernicious Drivers of Ethno-Religious Conflict,” 3. 181 Igbuzor, “Nigeria’s Experience in Managing the Challenges of Ethnic and Religious Diversity through 

Constitutional Provisions”; and Reynolds, “Nigeria and Shari’a,” 217.

182 Osae-Brown, “Mathematics of Winning the Presidential Polls.”
192 The Crisis of the African State

“it is often said that it is not good constitutions that Nigeria lacks, but good 

leadership.”183

Another constitutional principle—“federal character”—found in Article 

14 (3), is meant to accommodate “diversity, fostering inclusiveness and 

promoting national unity” in staffing the federal government.184 Such seemingly beneficial ethnic balancing, however, has led to informal provisions 

like the zoning system to apportion federal employment.185 This extralegal 

arrangement splits Nigeria into six geopolitical zones186 and, at its highest 

levels, aims to powershare on a rotational basis the top federal positions 

among the regional elites. Although meant to foster harmony, its implementation is neither democratic nor meritocratic, and is already skewed 

by the election of the “south-south zone” President Goodluck Jonathan 

in 2011 over expectations (and subsequent violence) by northerners that 

their region’s candidate deserved the nomination of the ruling People’s 

Democratic Party.187 On a positive note, these elections were considered 

the most democratic since 2000, and the election of a minority Ijaw as 

president holds promise for a more democratic future in Nigeria.188 A lack 

of a shared national identity, however, leaves Nigerian politics open to 

these types of machinations among rival political, economic, cultural, and 

regional interests.

Given conditions in Nigeria, cultural and regional fighting over political 

economic power seems unavoidable. Hostility over scarce but valuable 

assets, such as patronage and public revenue distributions, “becomes in183 Albert, “The Sociocultural Politics of Ethnic and Religious Conflicts,” 70. 184 ICG, Nigeria: Nigeria’s Faltering Federal Experiment, 11; and ICG, Curbing Violence in Nigeria (I), 3. 185 ICG, Northern Nigeria: Background to Conflict, 1. 186 The geopolitical zones are divided into: northeast, northwest, north-central, southeast, southwest, 

and south-south (or the Niger Delta area) for the positions of president, vice president, prime minister, 

deputy prime minister, senate president, and house speaker. This system was nearly made part of the 

constitution in the 1990s under Gen Sani Abacha. See Abdullahi, “Ethnicity and Ethnic Relations in Nigeria,” 292; and Falola, Culture and Customs of Nigeria, 200–2. The dominant ruling People’s Democratic 

Party reconstituted the system within its ranks, but that now seems discarded too. See ICG, Lessons from 

Nigeria’s 2011 Elections, 8. 187 Lewis, Nigeria: Assessing Risks to Stability, 9; Yakubu, “Ethnicity and the Nigerian Constitutions,” 40; 

Parselelo Kantai, “Violence in Northern Nigeria Follows Goodluck Jonathan’s Election Win,” Washington Post, 19 April 2011, http://www.washingtonpost.com/world/violence-in-northern-nigeria-follows

-goodluck-jonathans-election-win/2011/04/18/AFQ4jx1D_story.html; and ICG, Lessons from Nigeria’s 

2011 Elections, 8. 188 Department of State, “U.S. Relations with Nigeria,” fact sheet (Washington, DC: U.S. Department of 

State, Bureau of African Affairs, April 2012), http://www.state.gov/r/pa/ei/bgn/2836.htm; and Kantai, 

“Violence in Northern Nigeria Follows Goodluck Jonathan’s Election Win.”
Political Economy and Stability in Nigeria 193

evitable under conditions that politicize ethnicity and enlist governmental 

powers in socio-economic competition.”189 Group interest theory expects 

people with common interests to band together to influence public policy, 

with each group’s strength dependent upon its numbers, wealth, organizational strength and leadership, access to power, and internal cohesion, the 

latter including ethnic or religious affiliations.190 Cultural groupings seem 

necessary to maintain or improve economic well-being by those involved, 

often through the power obtained from politics.191 This situation inspires 

the Nigerian euphemism to “get their fair share of the national cake . . . to 

loot enough resources to dispense to their villages or among their ethnic 

group.”192 When one group becomes institutionally dominant in a society, 

the government may lose its ability to cope with societal changes that may 

be destabilizing.193 For much of its history, the Nigerian government and its 

military have been dominated by northerners, leading southerners to push 

for more “decentralization of the federal government and constitutional 

changes.”194 Northerners, for their part, fear that liberalization of the Nigerian system will diminish their dominant position in politics.195 Entrenched 

positions and competition for limited resources have enabled ethnic and 

religious conflicts over power and wealth.

Nigeria’s diversity along its many cultural and regional lines may seem 

to be the cause of its problems, but in reality those differences are often 

the weapons wielded by elites of the powerful groups for their own gain 

in political power and economic spoils.196 Elites from all of the regions not 

only tolerate the gross inequality their system entails, but feel entitled to 

it despite the greater ensuing harm to social and economic development 

and political stability in Nigeria.197 The instrumentalization of identity by 

Nigerian elites is a zero-sum game over existing public resources rather 

than develop those resources further in a failure of good governance and 

189 ICG, Nigeria: Nigeria’s Faltering Federal Experiment, 5; and Alozieuwa, “Beyond the Ethno-Religious 

Theory of the Jos Conflict,” 23.

190 Ikpeze, Soludo, and Elekwa, “Nigeria,” 343. 191 Alozieuwa, “Beyond the Ethno-Religious Theory of the Jos Conflict,” 24. 192 Ikpeze, Soludo, and Elekwa, “Nigeria,” 345. 193 Elizabeth Crighton and Martha Abele MacIver, “The Evolution of Protracted Ethnic Conflict: Group 

Dominance and Political Underdevelopment in Northern Ireland and Lebanon,” Comparative Politics 23, 

no. 2 (January 1991): 128.

194 Falola, Culture and Customs of Nigeria, 5, 217, 227. 195 Bevan, Collier, and Gunning, The Political Economy of Poverty, Equity, and Growth, 2. 196 Abdullahi, “Ethnicity and Ethnic Relations in Nigeria,” 295. 197 Bevan, Collier, and Gunning, The Political Economy of Poverty, Equity, and Growth, 5, 187.
194 The Crisis of the African State

leadership. Thus deadly fractures occur ethnically, religiously, and regionally that upset stability in Nigeria and may threaten its very unity. While 

democracy now seems to be taking root and the economy grows, Nigeria’s 

past cycles of autocracy and stagnant economic growth leaves the country 

brittle and exposed. 

Nigerian Instability

Nigeria’s importance in the world stems from its towering political, economic, and demographic influence in Africa and from its rich natural resources 

and market potential. This is true, however, only while Nigeria remains a 

functioning integrated state. Thus, the world’s governments should maintain an interest in the viability of Nigeria as a state. As this chapter has 

shown, however, Nigeria is under considerable internal pressures over power and gains through competing regional, religious, and ethnic camps that 

have racked it with chronic and severe violence to the point of fracturing. 

Since its independence, the internal political divisions in Nigeria have 

increased from 3 to 4 in 1963, to 12 in 1967 (to unsuccessfully counter the 

Biafran secession), 19 in 1976, 21 in 1987, 30 in 1991, and 36 in 1996. A call 

for an additional 35 states in 1994 was ignored by the framers of the 1999 

constitution in an apparent effort to stabilize the situation and halt further 

fracturing.198 As many of the past problems that have caused fragmentation 

continue, mismanagement of a recurring economic downturn or periodic 

political crisis by the country’s elite in the current inflammatory ethnic and 

religious environment could again result in the need for force to keep the 

brittle state unified.199 Although causes for the devolution of the Nigerian 

state clearly point to issues within the political economy using its ready religious, ethnic, and regional factions, those alone are probably not sufficient 

for the break up or failing of the country. Despite its present strains, Nigeria 

remains a functioning and influential state to the extent needed by Nigerian 

and outside interests.200 Under what conditions then could this balance tip 

toward more dire circumstances? This chapter concludes by analyzing the 

potential for and gravity of Nigeria’s political instability. 

Parceling a state along cultural divides is an oft-used means to diversify 

198 Falola, History of Nigeria, 122, 129; Lewis, Nigeria: Assessing Risks to Stability, 5–6; and Yakubu, “Ethnicity and the Nigerian Constitutions,” 39.

199 Falola, Culture and Customs of Nigeria, 5. 200 Lewis, Nigeria: Assessing Risks to Stability, 1.
Political Economy and Stability in Nigeria 195

power and reduce minority fears of domination by stronger groups.201 Despite its good intentions, however, subdividing Nigeria has encouraged the 

worst in parochial self-serving activities, as unrelenting violence and political machinations show.202 Splintering reduces a rival’s power when sparring 

over the political economy, as occurred in the 1963 forced partition of the 

Western region, and to diminish the strength of the oil-rich Eastern region 

during the civil war.203 Subdivisions entrench a state’s majority group in 

their local power, but this method may also undermine a dominant group 

when a minority succeeds in subdividing again to create additional majority groups in smaller states.204 The allure of devolution includes creating 

new patronage opportunities within ethnic constituencies and controlling 

wealth distributed by the federal government.205 Subdividing, however, 

weakens each of the states with respect to the central government as smaller, less viable states are essentially obligated to federal officials for revenue 

and patronage to operate.206 Officials also used the creation of new states 

as a “diversionary tactic” to avoid addressing the causes of economic and 

political problems rather than just their cultural symptoms.207 One procedural technique used to counter devolution, but made the situation worse, 

was sharing public revenue from the central government with the states, 

which did not ensure fealty to the country. This technique failed because 

the distribution formula gave a fixed amount to each state and an allowance for its population, which became an incentive to create more states 

since that would ensure an increased amount of the fixed dividend without 

reducing the proportional amount received for population.208 For these reasons, Nigeria has fragmented through its history, and recent policies have 

sought to counter this devolutionary trend. 

If internal fragmenting creates religious, cultural, ethnic, economic, regional, and political pressures on the Nigerian polity, what additional forces 

might push the state to break up? Paul Collier and Anke Hoeffler examined 

201 Yakubu, “Ethnicity and the Nigerian Constitutions,” 39; and Falola, History of Nigeria, 92, 109, 122. 202 ICG, Nigeria: Nigeria’s Faltering Federal Experiment, 71; Godfrey N. Uzoigwe, “Assessing the History 

of Ethnic/Religious Relations,” in Inter-Ethnic and Religious Conflict Resolution in Nigeria, 16; and Falola, 

History of Nigeria, 11. 203 Ibid., 129. 204 Ibid., 9; and Bevan, Collier, and Gunning, The Political Economy of Poverty, Equity, and Growth, 188. 205 Ibid. 206 Falola, Culture and Customs of Nigeria, 155; and ICG, Nigeria: Nigeria’s Faltering Federal Experiment, 2. 207 Lewis, Nigeria: Assessing Risks to Stability, 88. 208 Collier and Hoeffler, “The Political Economy of Secession,” 18.
196 The Crisis of the African State

the political economy of secession and found that secessionist communities 

formed when they perceived an economic advantage to do so. Although 

such an advantage was not the only way to motivate secession, it was a 

“particularly potent” method. An additional economic characteristic enabling secession is that the economic advantage, often a lucrative natural 

resource such as oil or cocoa, needs to be spatially concentrated so that 

an identity group might coalesce around it. Nigeria, with its rentier dependence on oil exports from the southern part of the country, is thus prone 

to secession,209 as Biafra (and the still active, if small, Movement for the Actualization of the Sovereign State of Biafra) and more recent Niger Delta 

insurgency have shown.210 The relatively prosperous southwest Yoruba region is another geographically concentrated ethnic group with a natural 

resource—cocoa—associated with civil conflict, a smoldering autonomy, and 

secession movements since the 1990s.211 Political control over native economic resources, however, would solve many other existing problems for 

the residents of a state, and thus could be a spur toward partition. Economically richer regions with concentrated ethnic groups, such as some 

of Nigeria’s southerners who feel politically dominated by northerners and 

economically exploited, set the stage for internal divisions to grow into independence.212

Concentrated resources may actually create the identity groups necessary for a secession movement to begin. The use of terms like tribe, ethnic 

groups, and nations are amorphous in a society as complex as Nigeria’s, 

and cultural allegiances and designations may shift. During the Nigerian 

Civil War, many southeastern people, such as the Ibibio, Efik, and Sobo, 

associated themselves with the Igbo movement to create Biafra while it was 

a viable means to regional political independence and increased economic wealth. Most of these same groups annulled their relationship with the 

209 Ibid., 3–5, 8. 210 Reynolds, “Nigeria and Shari’a,” 215; Muideen Olaniyi et al., “Nigeria: Drums of Secession Sound 

from Niger Delta,” Daily Trust on allAfrica.com, 12 August 2012; “Niger Delta Call for 2011 Referendum: 

Secession, Stability, Socialism,” Niger Delta Now; and ICG, Nigeria: Nigeria’s Faltering Federal Experiment, 16. 211 Falola, Culture and Customs of Nigeria, 217, 227; “Nigeria: Yoruba Leaders Call for Regional Autonomy, Not Secession,” Daily Trust on allAfrica.com, 4 September 2012; and Massimo Morelli and Dominic 

Rohner, “Natural Resource Distribution and Multiple Forms of Civil War” (working paper, University of 

Zurich Institute for Empirical Research in Economics Working Paper No. 498, 9 August 2010), 16–18.

212 ICG, Nigeria: Nigeria’s Faltering Federal Experiment, 1.
Political Economy and Stability in Nigeria 197

Igbo people and renounced the Biafra movement after defeat.213 Ethnic 

determination is neither definitive nor static in Nigeria, and often based 

on nineteenth-century European designations of convenience because 

true Nigerian cultural associations are multifaceted and often indistinct. 

For example, the concept of a “Delta People” is forming to bring together 

more than 60 disparate groups in the Niger River Delta region, who are 

geographically more compact than the situation in Biafra and endure Nigeria’s worse pollution and standard of living, to create their own identity as 

part of a political process for greater control over economic resources and 

development prospects.214

The opportunity for increased wealth may be more important than past 

grievances in forming an identity group bent on secession, especially if the 

population is uneducated and susceptible to an exaggerated sense of common identity, and the imperative to control local resources is strong.215 For 

example, in Biafra, oil was located along the coast around Port Harcourt and 

not the inland Igbo cultural core around Enugu, necessitating the creation 

of a greater Igboland to gain support for secession.216 Experience with autonomy or previous secessionist ambitions is another factor in secession, 

and one which may help determine where future Nigerian divisions occur.217 Thus convenient ethnic loyalties based around economic advantage 

are strong factors in state fracturing, and Nigeria’s history indicates the potential for devolution remains potent.

Should mismanagement of circumstances in Nigeria cause the state to 

break up, the new states would likely form along lines of past politically 

autonomous regions.218 Such regions are often the historic short hand for 

traditional divisions reflecting differences in physical geography, agricultural and economic zones, and religious and ethnic groups that together 

define distinct and internally homogenous areas. So in addition to the mod213 The economic motivation for these other ethnic groups to join the secession becomes more apparent because they were not generally victims of the mass attacks against the Igbo living in the northern 

region that preceded the civil war and was the second cause for the creation of Biafra. Collier and Hoeffler, “The Political Economy of Secession,” 4–9, 18.

214 Benedict, “Breaking Barriers to Transformation of the Niger Delta Region of Nigeria,” 211; Blessing, 

Nigeria’s Center(s) of Gravity, 7; and Casey, “Mediated Hostility, Generation, and Victimhood in Northern 

Nigeria,” 276.

215 Collier and Hoeffler, “The Political Economy of Secession,” 9, 14. 216 Ibid., 18. 217 Jenne, “National Self-Determination,” 7; and Paul Collier and Nicholas Sambanis, “Understanding 

Civil War: A New Agenda,” Journal of Conflict Resolution 46, no. 1 (February 2002): 3–12. 218 Adebajo, The Curse of Berlin, 328.
198 The Crisis of the African State

ern construct of a compact economic resource and sense of exploitation 

around which an identity group may form, a distinct historic contiguous political territory is another trait of secession since it is an easily recognized 

rallying point for its members. 

Nigeria, having already experienced one brutal civil war, is at risk for a 

recurrence of conflict or dissolution since some of the underpinning motivations of that war remain unresolved.219 The examples of Ethiopia-Eritrea and 

Somalia-Somaliland indicate that the weakest point in such failing states lies 

along relict colonial borders.220 These former integral states were each once 

administered separately by different colonial masters before being inadequately joined together and subsequently fractured along their previous 

international borders. Of more interest for Nigerian unity, this situation may 

also occur between regions separately administered by a common colonial 

power as what occurred between Malaysia and Singapore and between 

North and South Sudan, where differences eventually proved irreconcilable 

after the departure of British administration. At least some of the resulting 

regions and states of a possible Nigerian devolution may divide along such 

internal lines.

In Nigeria, these splits existed under the early British imperial administration, based on the differences found in older precolonial native states resulting 

from persistent physical and human differences. The nineteenth-century 

Fulani Sokoto Caliphate and Hausa-dominated remnants of the centuriesold Bornu Empire were first absorbed by British royal charter companies 

in 1885 and officially annexed as the Protectorate of Northern Nigeria in 

1900.221 Similarly, Nigeria’s southwest contained Yoruba-dominated states 

including the kingdoms of Oyo, Benin, and Warri.222 This area was first ruled 

by the British when Lagos and surrounding areas were annexed in 1861 to 

combat the slave trade, and were formally incorporated as the Colony and 

Protectorate of Lagos in 1886.223 True to their cultural heritage, the people of 

the southeast traditionally governed themselves in decentralized communi219 Collier and Sambanis, “Understanding Civil War,” 5. 220 Institute for Security Studies Seminar Report, South Sudan’s Referendum–Geopolitical and Geostrategic Implications (New Muckleneuk, South Africa: Institute for Security Studies, 22 February 2011), 2–3. 221 Maurice Iroulor Imoh, “The Development of an Atlas of the Nigerian Political Evolution” (master’s 

thesis, Ohio State University, 1977), 49–50; Ben Cahoon, “World Statesman–Nigeria,” 2000, http://www

.worldstatesmen.org/Nigeria.htm#Northern-Nigeria; and Falola, Culture and Customs of Nigeria, 17. 222 Imoh, “The Development of an Atlas of the Nigerian Political Evolution,” 49–50. 223 Cahoon, “World Statesman–Nigeria”; and Imoh, “The Development of an Atlas of the Nigerian Political Evolution,” 53–58.
Political Economy and Stability in Nigeria 199

ties, setting them apart from the other regions and making the subsequent 

indirect rule by the British difficult and inefficient.224 The British nonetheless 

established a patchwork of protectorates starting in 1849 with the Bight of 

Biafra followed by the Bights of Benin, Brass, Bonny, Opobo, Aobh, and Old 

Calabar. After the 1885 Berlin Conference, these protectorates, stretching 

from the Niger River eastward to Old Calabar, were assembled into the Oil 

Rivers Protectorate and then reestablished as the Niger Coast Protectorate 

in 1893 and the Protectorate of Southern Nigeria in 1900.225

Each of these three regions was administered separately within the British 

Empire until 1906 when Lagos was incorporated into an enlarged Colony 

and Protectorate of Southern Nigeria, bridging the Niger River’s cultural 

divide separating Yoruba and Igbo dominated areas. This new protectorate 

was delimited by the British as a straight line from the German Kamerun 

(modern day Cameroon) border 10 miles south of Takum due west to Ida 

through then-uncharted territory, to follow westward the approximate 

northern borders of present day states Edo, Ondo, Ekiti, Osun, and Oyo.226

In 1914, the Northern and Southern Protectorates were joined because 

the north was unable to sustain itself economically to create the external 

borders of modern Nigeria.227 Although the internal borders have been 

adjusted somewhat with time and better understanding of the areas, the 

lines defining these three key preunification areas in Nigeria have remained 

remarkably durable and significant as relict boundaries within modern 

Nigeria.228 Indeed, the north and south continued to be administered separately within the united Colony and Protectorate of Nigeria, and the three 

regions resurfaced again in 1939 when the British created internal political divisions—the Northern, Western, and Eastern regions—each organized 

224 Ibid., 49–50, 80; and Falola, Culture and Customs of Nigeria, 72. 225 Cahoon, “World Statesman–Nigeria”; and Imoh, “The Development of an Atlas of the Nigerian Political Evolution,” 53–58.

226 Lagos and Southern Nigeria (London: War Office, General Staff, Topographic Section, 1905), map 

2084. Modern southern Nigeria is defined by the northern borders of Cross River, Enugu, Anambra, 

Delta, Edo, Ondo, Osun, and Oyo states (and also contains what would become Akwa Ibom, Abia, Imo, 

Rivers, Ogun, and Lagos states). Samuel Aryeetey–Attoh, “Africa South of the Sahara,” in World Regional 

Geography, ed. Douglas S. Johnson et al. (Upper Saddle Brook, NJ: Pearson Prentice Hall, 2010), 438. 227 Falola, Culture and Customs of Nigeria, 17, 68; and Imoh, “The Development of an Atlas of the Nigerian Political Evolution,” 49–60.

228 Lagos and Southern Nigeria, map 2084; Aryeetey–Attoh, “Africa South of the Sahara,” 438; Imoh, 

“The Development of an Atlas of the Nigerian Political Evolution,” 53–54; and A. E. Kitson, Southern 

Nigeria map (London: Royal Geographical Society, 1913).
200 The Crisis of the African State

differently for internal self-governing to reflect their separate heritages.229

In 1954, these regions were reaffirmed under the Lyttleton Constitution 

that, along with the federal territory in Lagos, became the internal political 

structure of Nigeria upon independence in 1960.230 Despite a federal structure allowing regional autonomy, the people were insufficiently prepared 

and the government inadequately structured to prevent the Balkanization 

of Nigeria, however.231 The Biafran secessionists drew upon the legacy of 

the Eastern region and its predecessors for legitimacy, as do recent Yoruba 

separatists draw upon the Western region’s legacy. Interestingly, Nigeria’s 

most potent secessionist movement today in the Niger Delta also has its 

own legacy bound, in part, to the Midwestern region, first of the devolution 

states in the federal republic, and the native Benin and Warri Kingdoms to 

create its identity, although that has not been an important element so far 

in the insurgency. Thus, such groupings could become the entities around 

which to rally in defense of perceived and antithetical group interests, as 

may occur in political economy disputes, and thus remain powerful psychological borders and potential fault lines.

Despite the delineation of British drawn lines presented here as enduring internal boundaries, the divides are culturally and geographically less 

distinct, but the regions’ divisions remain potent.232 The Middle Belt, the 

southern length of the old Northern region including Plateau state, is a transition area of some 180 native ethnic groups partially swayed by northern 

and southern, Muslim and Christian, and Arab and European influences, 

and is one of Nigeria’s most violent regions.233 The Niger River Delta region 

is also as indistinct a cultural border, as the river delta itself is an indistinct 

physical border between Yorubaland and Igboland.234 Indeed the delta may 

constitute a discrete buffer zone through its physical, cultural, economic, 

and historic identities, real or constructed. Although such intermingling of 

229 Imoh, “The Development of an Atlas of the Nigerian Political Evolution,” 53–58, 78–80, 88. 230 Ibid., 82; and Falola, Culture and Customs of Nigeria, 69. 231 The modern term “Balkanization” explains the disintegration of some multiethnic states and their 

devolution into dictatorship, ethnic cleansing, and civil war. See Robert W. Pringle, “Balkanization,” Encyclopaedia Britannica, http://www.britannica.com/EBchecked/topic/50323/Balkanization. 232 Abdullahi, “Ethnicity and Ethnic Relations in Nigeria,” 295; and Toyin Falola and Matthew M. Heaton, 

“The Works of A. E. Afigbo on Nigeria: An Historiographical Essay,” History in Africa 33 (2006): 159, 

http://muse.jhu.edu/journals/hia/summary/v033/33.1falola.html.

233 Imoh, “The Development of an Atlas of the Nigerian Political Evolution,” 47–53; Uzoigwe, “Assessing 

the History of Ethnic/Religious Relations,” 8; and ICG, Northern Nigeria: Background to Conflict, 20. 234 Benedict, “Breaking Barriers to Transformation of the Niger Delta Region of Nigeria,” 211.
Political Economy and Stability in Nigeria 201

allegiances and economic interests across Nigeria’s internal divides makes 

secession difficult, violent partitions occurred under similar circumstances 

between India and Pakistan in 1947 and the two Sudans in 2011. 

Regional, religious, and ethnic-inspired violence harnessed by venal 

leaders has fragmented Nigeria and its people for political and economic 

gain at the expense of the state. Economically advanced regions in southern Nigeria may be motivated to secede out of the dominating control of 

the north, using the opportunity their concentrated natural resource advantages offer. The desire to secede could also fashion the narrative to do so, 

by creating new coalitions of peoples into an identity group to justify and 

support separation. Such new identities are especially likely where education levels are low, and a history of regional autonomy or previous secession 

is strong—both conditions found in Nigeria. The danger of the predatory 

political economy in Nigeria is that it may cause the disintegration of the 

Nigerian state through enabling these mechanisms. 

Conclusions

Nigeria is an extraordinarily important country in sub-Saharan Africa in terms 

of its economic strength, political and military importance, and cultural influence, despite the problems that severely divide it internally, and threaten 

its very integrity as a functioning state. That these problems revolve around 

the divisive use of political, ethnic, religious, and regional groups in which 

each tries to improve its position in power and economic revenue at the 

expense of the other is why this chapter identified political and economic 

problems as the source of much of Nigeria’s instability. Those sources, not 

the more easily reported symptoms, must be addressed directly to have a 

lasting positive impact on the recurring crises in Nigeria. Nigeria’s chronically poor performing economy puts pressure on various power groups 

to obtain their share of its rich public natural resource revenues to benefit 

their leaders and interest group supporters. Venal leadership and poor government organization and laws often prevent addressing these problems 

effectively, although attempts by administrations in the Fourth Republic to 

do better are still being tested. 

Nigerians have defined themselves through their differences and not 

their similarities, which exacerbates the conflict over resources through violence and calls for self-determination that weakens the state. In many ways, 

oil production in Nigeria has become more a cause of serious problems 
202 The Crisis of the African State

than the means to improving the economy and well-being of its people. 

That Nigeria has been poorly governed and subject to severe corruption 

that has left its polity divided and fighting over power and revenues rather than enhancing the economy to benefit everyone is a classic example 

of a rentier state under the “curse of oil.” Sectarian and communal groups 

have been led by their leaders, often through traditional client-patron relationships, to believe that such divisions are a sure way to improve their 

situation and ingrained this perspective into the national dialogue. Although religious, ethnic, and regional differences are often how dissension 

and violence are “instrumentalized” in Nigeria, they should not be confused 

with the deeper causes of competition over power and resources among 

a self-serving elite. Despite the best of intentions, the law is contorted in 

this battle over power through such principles as “indigeneship,” “federal 

character,” “derivation,” and “zoning,” which exposes even further the shallowness of leadership in pursuit of “the national cake.” Such differences are 

dangerous to the stability and unity of Nigeria, since the country contains 

traits found in other secession-prone states, and its people easily divided 

along recognizable fault lines with the motivation to secede.

Although many countries around the world face similar political and 

economic problems that hobble their development and security, Nigeria’s problems may be more consequential than most because it is both 

an important international state and geographically and historically more 

susceptible to fracturing—with all of the evils that entails. These fault lines 

in Nigeria are well established and deep. For these reasons, understanding 

the causes of the political and economic problems in Nigeria in order for 

Nigerians and others interested in supporting the region to better address 

them is an important endeavor, and this chapter is but the first step in that 

discussion. 
Chapter Eight

The African Failed State and the Challenge

of Combating Jihadism and Tribalism

in the Global Era

by Anthony N. Celso and Robert Nalbandov

Globalization and Unleashing

Religious and Tribal Passions

Samuel Huntington’s masterwork The Clash of Civilizations is frequently cited as a starting point for discussions of ethno-tribal and religious resistance 

to globalization.1 The late Harvard scholar saw a variety of civilizational forces emerging in the post-Cold War era that clashed with Western-directed 

globalization.2 Huntington predicted that these conflicts would be most 

pronounced in the Middle East, Asia, and Africa where indigenous cultures 

and traditions chafe against Western cultural and economic influence.

In these regions, Islamist resistance has been especially pronounced. 

Somalia, the Maghreb, and the Sahel contain jihadist groups mobilizing 

to overthrow governments tied to integrated markets. Al-Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb (AQIM) and Somalia’s al-Shabaab envision regional Islamic 

caliphates that would purge these areas of pernicious Western influence. 

Some theorists, moreover, argue that jihadist groups in the Middle East and 

Africa have brutally persecuted Christian and Sufi minorities.3 Huntington’s 

characterization that Islam has bloody borders inspired much criticism.4

While his work is controversial and disliked in some quarters, events in the 

Middle East and Africa have reinforced many of Huntington’s conclusions.

Some theorists have built upon his ideas. Benjamin R. Barber’s Jihad vs. 

McWorld similarly identifies two contending forces—globalization and trib1 Chua, World on Fire. 2 Samuel P. Huntington, The Clash of Civilizations and the Remaking of the World Order (New York: 

Simon & Schuster, 1996). 

3 Walid Phares, The Coming Revolution: Struggle for Freedom in the Middle East (New York: Threshold 

Editions, Simon & Schuster, 2010).

4 John L. Esposito, The Islamic Threat: Myth or Reality? 3d ed. (Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press, 1999).

203
204 The Crisis of the African State

alism—dominating the contemporary world stage.5 Similar to Huntington’s

Clash of Civilizations, Barber sees communitarian resistance to globalization as a last ditch effort to preserve threatened ethno-tribal and religious 

identities. The technological, communication, and economic imperatives 

of global markets have undermined state sovereignty by making goods, 

people, capital, and ideas portable and borders permeable. These forces, 

moreover, have challenged communitarian identities whose existence is 

predicated upon insular political and economic structures. 

Threatened by the West’s export of Anglo-American capitalism, 

secularism, and individualism, tribal and religious resistance has paradoxically employed sophisticated means to arrest international integration. 

Al-Qaeda’s simultaneous rejection of globalization and its use of global 

technology and communications to organize and strike the West on 9/11 

are symptomatic of the contradictions of the modern age. Bin Laden’s 

choice of jumbo jet liners packed with tons of explosive fuel to bring down 

the World Trade Center is replete with symbolism, as is the use of the Internet as a major source of jihadist recruitment and mobilization.

Equally prescient about the lack of tranquility in the emerging new world 

order is Robert D. Kaplan, whose work echoes Huntington’s ideas about the 

emergence of tribalism and religious fundamentalism as a counterweight 

to liberal democratic globalism.6 He argues that international relations has 

devolved into a world where moral rules are relative and state security is 

challenged by tribal warlords, terrorists, and rogue states resistant to globalization.

Weapons of mass destruction and the rapidity of modern transport give 

this emerging pattern of global conflict a frightening dimension. Globalization’s threat to communal identity and its weakening of state capacity 

has unleashed destructive forces. Islamism and tribalism seek to preserve a 

mythic idyllic past from the battering ram of the liberal global order. Tribal 

armies in the Congo and jihadists in the Sahel fight to preserve local rule 

and nativist traditions. Paradoxically, both groups are tied to clandestine 

international markets eager to acquire the blood diamonds, illegal labor, 

and drugs these groups sell. 

5 Benjamin R. Barber, Jihad vs. McWorld: How Globalism and Tribalism Are Reshaping the World (New 

York: Ballantine Books, 1996).

6 Robert D. Kaplan, The Coming Anarchy: Shattering the Dreams of the Post-Cold War (New York: Random House, 2000).
The African Failed State 205

They have exploited the implosion of state authority associated with the 

implementation of IMF’s structural adjustment policies (SAP) that reduced 

public sector resources and authority in many African regimes. The shrinkage of the state’s role in the political economy and society has created a 

vacuum of power. Tribal and Islamist groups have sought to exploit and 

prosper from the retrenchment of public authority.

The growth of jihadism and tribalism has exacerbated the problem of 

the failed state. The challenge is two-fold as these groups compromise the 

territorial and political configuration of the modern African state. The colonial legacy of ethnic-tribal heterogeneity exacerbates state legitimacy as 

ethnic groups fight to control territorial space and jihadists seek to create 

transnational regional caliphates.7 Groups like the Movement for Unity and 

Jihad in West Africa (MUJWA) and Boko Haram (BH) seek to redraw colonial borders to achieve their transnational Islamist ambitions. 

This problem is aggravated by the performance of postcolonial governments whose maintenance of patrimonial relations grouped around kinship 

ties resulted in the privatization of public wealth and rampant corruption.8

The patrimonial state and its bloated civil service worsened underlying 

economic problems that reached an apex in the 1990s with crushing debt 

burdens. SAPs supervised by the IMF forced a retrenchment of the state 

sector, resulting in withdrawal of government activity and the collapse of 

its entrenched interest.9 Governments consolidated authority in urban 

areas, leaving many rural areas free from state control. The implosion of 

state authority in the countryside allowed jihadist groups and tribal armies 

territorial space to mount insurgencies often financed by criminal activity. 

Exploiting a security vacuum in the Sahel, AQIM has evolved into a criminal 

terror organization where profitmaking parlays nicely with jihadi terrorist 

actions. Left unchecked, the spread of such movements could have disastrous consequences with profound regional security ramifications.

Combating Jihadism and Tribalism

Islamist insurgencies and terror campaigns have been given a powerful 

impetus by the Arab Spring. Once stable regimes in Egypt, Tunisia, and Libya were rocked and overturned by mass popular protests and rebellions. 

7 Andrew Storey, “Globalisation and the African State,” Trocaire Development Review (1999), 39–56. 8 Bayart, The State in Africa. 9 Thomson, An Introduction to African Politics.
206 The Crisis of the African State

Daveed Gartenstein-Ross reminds us in chapter 1 that jihadist forces see 

the Arab Spring as an historic opportunity to expand radical Islam through 

preaching and fighting. As outlined in chapter 2 by Dr. Celso, the overthrow 

of the Qaddafi regime continues to have profound security ramifications 

throughout the region. Punctuated by Ansar al-Sharia’s attacks against the 

U.S. consulate in Benghazi on 11 September 2012 and AQIM’s brief sanctuary in Mali, radical Islamist forces threaten to destabilize the Sahel. Jihadists 

have struck across the region, including recent attacks against government 

and French interests in Niger. Libya has become a safe haven for AQIM and 

the Islamic State (IS).

Tribalism and jihadism converged in Mali with al-Qaeda’s support for the 

Tuareg’s rebellion in early 2012 that succeeded in establishing an independent state in the northern part of the country. AQIM’s alliance with Tuareg 

rebels, however, did not last and the Islamists were able to secure dominance 

by the summer of 2012. Had it not been for France’s January 2013 military 

intervention, Islamist forces could have moved against Bamako, achieving 

their ambition to extend a draconian sharia state. Despite the early tactical 

success of the Gallic military campaign, Henri Boré in chapter 3 notes that 

Pan African forces face an uphill struggle to secure stability in the impoverished country. While AQIM’s base of operations in Mali has been disrupted, 

the network has repositioned its activities to south Libya and Niger.

Islamist revivalism is a continent-wide problem. Recent examples abound, 

with West Africa jihadist groups a prominent concern of the international community. Nigeria has experienced an ultraviolent jihadist campaign 

organized by Boko Haram and its splinter movement Ansaru. As Clarence 

Bouchat’s work in chapter 8 vividly demonstrates, Boko Haram has mounted a brutal campaign against the Nigerian state, moderate Muslims, and 

Christian minorities. Its attacks against government installations, churches, 

beer halls, and Christian villages have left thousands dead. Boko Haram 

remains a potent force to destabilize Nigeria.

The scope of the jihadist threat in the Maghreb and the Sahel brings 

forth a number of troubling questions. Jihadist theorists reject democracy as a manmade and imperfect system that needs to be replaced by a 

sharia-based Islamic regime. While jihadism is incompatible with democracy, Islamists and Salafi movements claim they can coexist with republican 

forms of government. 

Gartenstein-Ross’s depiction of Ansar al-Sharia in Tunisia and the rising 
The African Failed State 207

specter of Islamist violence against secular opponents in a post-Ben Ali 

Tunisia questions the democratic convictions of contemporary Salafists. 

The behavior of the Muslim Brotherhood (MB) in Egypt under Mohammed 

Morsi’s regime, moreover, casts doubt on the group’s commitment to democratic values. Such a result is hardly surprising. As Paul Berman’s analysis 

establishes, the MB’s ideology and organizational history points back to 

totalitarian roots. Islamism Marxist and fascist ideological connections, its 

vehement Judeophobia, and its autocratic hierarchical structure seem incongruent with liberal democratic values and practice.10

Given the autocratic behavior of the MB and Ansar al-Sharia, some suspect that they want to exploit their democratic participation to seize the 

state. Islamist authoritarianism has encountered increasing resistance by 

civil secular forces that have mobilized against Salafi activism and violence. 

The counter-reaction to the Islamist tide is most visceral in Egypt, where the 

army has toppled Morsi’s regime. Plagued by rising violence from Salafi 

and Jihadist forces, Tunisian secular and liberal forces won the 2014 elections and hope to reverse deteriorating security. 

Tribalism and Democracy

Similar problems emerge in multitribal societies where ethnic-based parties are likely to channel competition in an unstable and violent direction. 

The lack of an African democratic ethos complicates the successful transition to democracy especially in societies with poorly drawn and contested 

borders. Dr. Nalbadov’s chapter 6 case study of French and Libyan interventions in impoverished Chad speaks tellingly to the problems of societies 

plagued by religious and tribal cleavages that have sparked internal conflict and external incursions. This is especially true in such societies as Chad 

where religious divisions are regionally clustered. Qaddafi’s failed 1980s 

effort to use his military to Islamize Chadian society is an early precursor to 

Huntington’s concept of Islam’s “bloody borders.” The Islamist and tribal 

threat has only accelerated in the current period of Western-led globalization and democratization.

Multiparty systems in a culturally heterogeneous context can lead to civil 

war and genocide.11 The spread of democracy in Africa in the 1990s has 

10 Paul Berman, Terror and Liberalism (New York: W. W. Norton & Co., 2004). 11 Bruce J. Berman, “Ethnicity and Democracy in Africa” (JICA-RI Working Paper No. 22, JICA Research 

Institute, Tokyo, Japan, November 2010).
208 The Crisis of the African State

been associated with ethno-tribal conflict and violence. The international 

community’s demands for democracy often coincide with SAPs supervised 

by the IMF that allow global creditors substantial leverage to reorganize 

African state’s political and economic systems. 

The 1994 Arusha Accords are a good example. Hutu elites balked at the 

international community’s efforts to implement a power-sharing accord 

leveraged by the overindebtedness of the government. The emergence 

of multiparty politics in Kenya, moreover, has been associated with ethnicbased politics and rising tribal tensions in recent years.

Given this dysfunction, there may need to be a modification of the democratic model that does not repeat the negative consequences of the old 

one-party authoritarian state and its parasitic exploitation of the political economy. Ethnic and communitarian resistance is also a conservative 

reaction to competitive pressures that could undermine the economic privileges of previously dominant groups. Therefore, some modification of the 

free market system needs to be erected to cushion the adverse economic 

impact of privatization and deregulation.

The West’s export of liberal democracy has also become divisive in societies steeped in religious fundamentalism and ethno-tribal antagonisms. It 

has produced a counter-reaction that may contain the seeds of a more functional African state. Ironically, ethnic minorities and former guerrilla rebels 

have played a key role in the development of a viable political-economic 

model. These groups have taken the lead to create a more stable though 

autocratic politics.

The Case for Guided Democracy and

Entrepreneurial Political Elites

The dysfunctional character of the region’s transition to democracy calls for 

a modification of multiparty parliamentary systems adopted by many African societies in the last two decades. As Amy Chua presciently observed 

a decade ago, the imposition of liberal democracy and market economics 

has contributed to ethnic conflict in multiethnic Third World societies.12 The 

shrinkage of the state associated with decades-old structural adjustment 

policies has created centrifugal pressures allowing jihadist groups and tribal militias an opportunity to create sanctuaries and to further undermine 

12 Chua, World on Fire.
The African Failed State 209

state territorial and institutional legitimacy. Left unchecked, these forces are 

likely to rend asunder many failing states. 

This vacuum of power, however, cannot be resolved by a reconstitution 

of the one-party patrimonial African state. The dramatic contraction of public authority makes the resurrection of networks of patronage unlikely. The 

state must be streamlined and oriented toward security functions designed 

to defend territorial sovereignty and institutional capacity. Fortunately, in 

some African societies, this process is well underway.

Regimes in Rwanda, Eritrea, and Ethiopia have achieved some political 

stability and economic growth. Chapters 4 and 5 of this volume argue that 

entrepreneurial elites played a critical role in guiding this process through 

an adroit use of coercion and cooption. Based on their organizational and 

leadership experience in guerilla movements, such leaders as Paul Kagame 

were able to manipulate electoral rules to cushion the most destabilizing 

effects of multiparty systems and create an overarching one-party state that 

succeeded in forging a fragile national consensus. The democracies that 

emerged in these countries were far from perfect, but their economic and 

political performance exceeds that of the postcolonial patrimonial model.

Freed from the excessive burdens and crushing bureaucracy of the state 

socialist model, economic advancement in these societies benefited from a 

reinvigorated private sector. Long repressed by the patrimonial state, independent African civil society has begun to emerge to compensate for the 

lack of an adequately financed health and educational sector.13 Strong economic gains and the reorganization of public finances in these countries, 

moreover, have allowed political elites to better concentrate on security 

issues. Since the 1994 genocide, the Rwandan Patriotic Front government 

has been able to successfully combat multiple rebel campaigns. Though 

these security gains are fragile, Rwanda has stabilized in the last decade.

The same, unfortunately, cannot be said of the Maghreb and Sahel, which 

continue to be rocked by the Arab Spring’s turmoil. Despite great hopes 

for a stable democratic transition in the region, the rise of Salafi and jihadist 

forces after the fall of the Mubarak, Ben Ali, and Qaddafi regimes has undermined public order. The proliferation of al-Qaeda affiliates in Tunisia, Libya, 

Nigeria, and Mali has caused international consternation that the terror organization is resurgent. How this new dynamic will unfold is still uncertain.

13 Thomson, An Introduction to African Politics.
210 The Crisis of the African State

Tribalism and jihadism have also convulsed the Nigerian state in the last 

decade. Chapter 7 discussed the emergence of tribal and Islamist insurgents 

who have complicated the West African country’s security situation. Recent 

events, however, offer some encouragement that the jihadist threat can be 

mitigated. France’s intervention in Mali effectively denied AQIM a safe haven 

and that country’s recent democratic elections suggest some chance of national reconciliation. The popularity of Egypt’s anti-Islamist regime of Abdel 

Fattah al-Sissi that overthrew the Muslim Brotherhood government in the 

summer of 2013 and events in Tunisia imply that the Islamist tide is waning. 

Tunisian liberals and secular parties won the November 2014 parliamentary 

and presidential elections and Tunis is now committed to checking Salafi 

and jihadist violence. The banning of Ansar al-Sharia as a terrorist group 

aligned with al-Qaeda underscores the country’s commitment to reverse the 

slide toward chaos.

Boko Haram’s (BH) insurgency, however, threatens to destabilize northeastern Nigeria. Since 2011, terrorist violence has sharply escalated as BH begins to 

establish its rule over the northern part of Nigeria’s Borno state. Eight thousand 

people have died in the last two years in BH’s brutal ethnic cleansing campaign 

to de-Christianize northern Nigeria.14 The group is notorious for its April 2014 

kidnapping of hundreds of Chibok schoolgirls, its bombing of churches, and 

its razing of Christian villages. Emulating the Islamic State (IS), BH has declared 

a caliphate over northern-eastern Nigerian states and the Cameroon border 

area.15 Like IS, BH is committed to a takfiri sectarian strategy that eliminates 

“apostates” and “infidels” in its savage quest to purify the Muslim world and 

create a transnational Sharia state that erases colonial-era borders. Terrorist violence in Nigeria may be reaching a critical stage, as Abuja seems powerless 

to prevent BH’s absorption of much of northern Borno state and the Cameroon 

and Lake Chad border areas. In January 2015, Amnesty International reported 

that up to 2,000 civilians may have been killed by Boko Haram in the Lake Chad 

region after the Islamists drove multinational forces from their base in Baga.16

14 Yossef Bodansky, The Boko Haram and Nigerian Jihadism, ISPSW No. 276 (Berlin: ISPSW Strategy 

Series: Focus on Defense and International Security, June 2014), http://www.isn.ethz.ch/Digital-Library

/Publications/Detail/?id=180765. 

15 Jacob Zenn, “Boko Haram, the Islamic State and the Archipelago Strategy,” Terrorism Monitor 12, no. 

24 (2014): 23–26.

16 Amnesty International, “Nigeria: Massacre Possibly Deadliest in Boko Haram’s History” (press release, 

9 January 2015), http://www.amnestyusa.org/news/press-releases/nigeria-massacre-possibly-deadliest

-in-boko-haram-s-history.
Political Economy and Stability in Nigeria 211

Beginning in early 2015, Chadian, Cameroonian, Nigerien, and Nigerian military units began a major offensive to weaken BH’s insurgency. Despite some 

significant successes in driving BH’s militants out of its northeastern Nigerian 

sanctuaries, BH’s terror campaign in the Lake Chad area continues.17 Renaming 

itself as Islamic State in West Africa (ISWA), Boko Haram’s 2015 merger with the 

Islamic State should augment its offensive capabilities.

Like Nigeria, many African states continue to be convulsed by poverty, corruption, failed governance, multiple insurgencies, and ethno-tribal 

antagonisms. The essays in this volume have attempted to examine these 

problems and offer some insight to how these security challenges may be 

successfully combated. Africa’s democratic transition is not likely to comport with the West’s aspirations. The region’s problems are daunting but 

not impossible to resolve. This book has offered a promising glimpse that 

entrepreneurial elites and guided democratic market societies may be able 

to abate the problem of the failed African state. 

17 LWJ Staff, “Boko Haram Brings War to Niger, Senior Chadian General Wounded,” Threat Matrix (blog 

for the Long War Journal), 8 February 2015, http://www.longwarjournal.org/archives/2015/02/boko

_haram_brings_war_to_niger.php.

Glossary

This glossary focuses on key terms related to the topics and regions discussed in each chapter. Many of the terms are so specialized that full 

treatment within the text is not possible. For terms not covered here, please 

refer to the index.

ACOTA African Contingency Operations Training and Assistance

AD Alliance for Democracy: a  progressive opposition political party formed 

in 1998 in Nigeria

AD Ansar Dine: a paramilitary terrorist 

group of insurgents based in Northern Mali but operating throughout the 

country to impose Sharia law

ADFLC Alliance of Democratic Forces for the 

Liberation of Congo-Zaire

AFISMA African-led International Support Mission to Mali

ANL Armée Nationale de Libération (National Liberation Army of Chad)

APGA All Progressives Grand Alliance: a Nigerian political party began primarily 

in the southeast and merged in 2013 

with other parties to form the All Progressives Congress

AQ al-Qaeda

213
214 The Crisis of the African State

AQAP al-Qaeda in the Arabian Peninsula: 

formed in 2009, AQAP is a Sunni extremist group based in Yemen

AQC al-Qaeda Central Command

AQIM al-Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb

ASL Ansar al-Sharia: Libyan militant Islamist 

group

AST Ansar al-Sharia in Tunisia: founded in 

2011, AST is the country’s strongest 

salafi jihadi organization

AU African Union

Bakassi Boys  A group of youth known for their anticrime vigilantism operating in the Igbo 

area of Nigeria

BET Borkou-Ennedi-Tibesti prefecture (Chad)

BH Boko Haram: an Islamist group active 

in Nigeria since 2009 and wants to impose Islamic law as the only law in Nigeria

CDR Conseil Démocratique Révolutionnaire 

(Democratic Revolutionary Council)

CSM Conseil Suprême Militaire (Supreme 

Military Council)

ECOWAS Economic Community of West African 

States
Glossary 215

Egbe Omo Oduduwa Society of the Descendants of Oduduwa: a Nigerian political organization established in 1945 to unite the Yorùbá 

in the southwest 

EIJ Egyptian Islamic Jihad: active since the 

1970s, EIJ is a militant group merged 

with al-Qaeda

EITI Extractive Industries Transparency Initiative

ELF Eritrean Liberation Front

EPLF Eritrean People’s Liberation Front

EPRDF Ethiopian People’s Revolutionary Democratic Front

FAP Forces Armées Populaires (People’s 

Armed Forces)

FAN Forces Armées du Nord (Armed Forces 

of the North)

FANT Forces Armées Nationales du Tchadiennes (National Armed Forces of 

Chad)

FAR Armées pour la Libération du Rwanda 

(Armed Forces of Rwanda)

FAT Forces Armées Tchadiennes (Chadian 

Armed Forces)

FDLR Forces Démocratiques pour la Libération du Rwanda (Democratic Liberation Forces of Rwanda)
216 The Crisis of the African State

FIS Islamic Salvation Front 

FLA la Première Armée (First Liberation 

Army)

FLN Front de Libération Nationale (National 

Liberation Front)

FLT Front de Libération du Tchad (Liberation Front of Chad)

FROLINAT Front de Libération Nationale du Tchad 

(National Liberation Front of Chad)

GDP Gross domestic product

GIA Armed Islamic Group

GICM Moroccan Islamic Combatant Group

GSPC Salafist Group for Preaching and Combat

GUNT Gouvernement d’Union Nationale de 

Transition (Transitional Government of 

National Unity)

GWOT Global War on Terrorism

HRW Human Rights Watch: founded in 1978 

to conduct research and advocate for 

human rights

IAF Inter-African Force 

ICU Islamic Court Union

IMF International Monetary Fund
Glossary 217

indigeneship Nigerian constitutional law meant to 

protect the “original” inhabitants of 

a local government area, or members of those ethnic groups that trace 

their lineage back to the area in their 

homeland. This device was meant to 

preserve the culture and authority 

structures of native minorities, but has 

become polarizing by excluding some 

basic rights of nonindigenes in terms 

of political rights

IS Islamic State

ISI Islamic State of Iraq

ISWA Islamic State of West Africa

Jamiyya Mutanen Arewa Northern Muslin group established in 

the 1940s and formed the Northern 

People’s Congress

JN Jabhat al-Nusra (or al-Nusra Front) is 

the Syrian offshoot of al-Qaeda

JNI Jama’atu Nasril Islam (Society for the 

Support of Islam) is an umbrella group 

for the Muslim community in Nigeria 

that conducts Islamic education and 

missionary work in the region 

KPI Key performance indicator

Maitatsine Mohammed Marwa was a controversial 

Islamic preacher in the 1970s whose 

fundamentalist movement in Nigeria 

resulted in riots and many deaths
218 The Crisis of the African State

MDR Mouvement Démocratique Républicain 

(Republican Democratic Movement)

MEND Movement for the Emancipation of the 

Niger Delta: one of the largest  militant groups in the Niger Delta region 

founded in 2004

MNLA National Movement for the Liberation 

of Azawad

MP Member of parliament

MPS Mouvement Patriotique du Salut (Patriotic Salvation Movement)

MRND National Revolutionary Movement for 

Development

MSC Mejahideen Shura Council

Mujahideen Islamist guerrilla fighters engaged in 

jihad

MUJWA Movement for Unity and Jihad in West 

Africa 

NA Native Authority system: British colonial policy of indirect rule under which 

culturally affiliated power prevailed 

through the use of existing traditional 

ethnic elites

NATO North Atlantic Treaty Organization

NCNC National Council of Nigeria and the 

Cameroons: a Nigerian political party 

from 1944 to 1966 whose power was 

found primarily in the Igbo southeast
Glossary 219

NDPVF Niger Delta People’s Volunteer Force: 

one of the largest armed groups in 

the Niger Delta region that was found-

ed in 2004 to gain more control over 

the region’s petroleum resources

NEPU Northern Elements Progressive Union: 

the first political party in Northern Ni-

geria that was founded in 1950

NPC Northern People’s Congress: founded 

in 1949, it dominated northern Nigeria 

and was an important part of the feder-

al government from the 1950s until the 

military seized power in 1966

NPN National Party of Nigeria: another 

dominant political party representing 

northern interests during Nigeria’s 

Second Republic (1979–83) that co-

vertly manipulated religion in its strat-

egies to win Muslim votes

NRA National Resistance Army: created in 

Uganda after the genocide

NRM National Resistance Movement

OAU Organisation of African Unity: created 

to promote cooperation among the in-

dependent nations

OIC Organisation of the Islamic Confer-

ence: association of 56 Islamic states 

promoting Muslim solidarity in eco-

nomic, social, and political affairs
220 The Crisis of the African State

OPC Oodua Peoples Congress (or Oodua 

Liberation Movement [OLM]): a nationalist Yoruba group consisting of the 

Yoruba people in the southwestern part 

of Nigeria

OPEC Organization of the Petroleum Exporting Countries: founded in 1960 to 

coordinate the petroleum policies of 

its members and to provide member 

states with technical and economic aid

PDO People’s Democratic Organizations

PPP Purchasing power parity

PPT Parti Progressiste Tchadien (Chadian 

Progressive Party): founded in 1947, 

the party was much more radical and 

nationalistic

PRP People’s Redemption Party: a northern Nigerian progressive left-of-center

political party during the Second 

Republic

Qadiriyya One of three important Sufi orders in 

West Africa that was named after Abd 

al-Qadir al-Jilani (d. 1166 CE in Baghdad)

RANU Rwandese Alliance for National Unity

RIHS Revival of Islamic Heritage Society: a 

Kuwait-based nongovernmental organization
Glossary 221

RPARwandan Patriotic Army

RPF Rassemblement du Peuple Français

(Rally of the French People): originally 

conceived as a way to regain political 

power without having to participate in 

party politics

RPFRwandan Patriotic Front: founded 

in 1988 as a political and military 

movement to secure repatriation of 

Rwandans in exile and reform the gov-

ernment, including political power 

sharing

SAPStructural Adjustment Policies: eco-

nomic policies that countries must 

follow to qualify for new World Bank 

and International Monetary Fund (IMF) 

loans and help them make debt re-

payments on the older debts owed to 

commercial banks, governments, and 

the World Bank

Sufi The adherents of a concept in  Islam

defined by scholars as the inner “mys-

tical” dimension of Islam, or those 

who seek the truth of divine love and 

knowledge through a direct personal 

experience with God

TCGTunisian Combatant Group: hoped to 

establish an Islamist government in Tu-

nisia

TFGTransitional Federal Government in 

Somalia: put in place between 2004 
222 The Crisis of the African State

and 2012, it was intended to restore 

national institutions after the fall of the 

ruling regime and the civil war

Tijaniyya Members of Sunni Islam who place 

great emphasis on good intentions and 

actions rather than on elaborate or extreme ritual

TPLF Tigrayan People’s Liberation Front

Tuareg Seminomadic Islamic people of Africa

UDT Union Démocratique Tchadien (Chadian 

Democratic Union): founded in 1947 by 

traditional African leaders and represented French commercial interests

UN United Nations

UNAMIR UN Assistance Mission for Rwanda

UPN Unity Party of Nigeria: a political party dominant in western Nigeria during 

the second republic (1978–83) that 

promoted free education and called 

itself a welfarist party

Zoning system This extralegal arrangement splits Nigeria into six geopolitical zones, and at 

its highest levels aims to powershare 

the top federal positions among the 

regional elites
223

Index

Abacha, Sani, 173, 192fn186

Acyl, Ahmat, 142, 148

Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, 84–85, 93–94, 96, 98–99, 98fn45, 99fn49

Afewerki, Isaias, 85

Afghanistan, 3, 7, 18, 54, 56, 58–60, 66, 71, 73

African Contingency Operations Training and Assistance (ACOTA), 77, 213

African-led International Support Mission to Mali (AFISMA), 76–77, 80, 213

African Union (AU), 3, 68, 80, 163, 214

Afrique Équatoriale Française (French Equatorial Africa [AEF]), 156

Aidid, Mohammed Farah, 3

al-Akrami, Ahmed, 18

al-Amili, Abu Sa’d, 22–23

al-Awlaki, Anwar, 19

al-Bassam, Hamzah bin Muhammad, 25

al-Filistini, Abu Qatada, 17, 21

Algeria, 7–8, 10, 16–17, 24, 37–38, 41, 45, 47–48, 54–64, 66, 68–69, 71–81

al-Haddushi, Umar, 22

al-Itihaad al-Islamiya, 27

al-Kattani, Hasan, 22

Allegiance Act, 23–24

Alliance for Democracy (AD), 187, 213

Alliance of Democratic Forces for the Liberation of Congo-Zaire (ADFLC),

114, 213

All Progressives Grand Alliance (APGA), 188, 213

al-Maqdissi, Abu Muhammad, 19
224 The Crisis of the African State

al-Qaeda (AQ), 3, 7–10, 14, 18–19, 21, 23–24, 27, 38, 51–70, 204–17

al-Qaeda in the Arabian Peninsula (AQAP), 23, 214

al-Qaeda Central Command (AQC), 8, 58–63, 214

al-Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb (AQIM), 10, 14, 18, 21, 23–24, 34, 36–37, 

49, 53–72, 75–81, 181, 203, 205–6, 210, 214

al-Shabaab, 3, 68, 203

al-Siba’i, Hani, 19, 21–22

al-Suri, Abu Musab, 58

al-Tahawi, Abu Muhammad, 22

al-Tartusi, Abu Basir, 19

al-Tunisi, Abu Iyad, 17, 23

al-Turabi, Hussein, 3

al-Zahawi, Muhamad, 71

al-Zawahiri, Ayman, 10, 15, 22, 59, 62

Amnesty International, 91, 101, 210

Animist, 7, 182

Ansar al-Sharia in Libya (ASL), 23, 63–65, 71–72, 206–7, 210, 214. See also, 

Libya

Ansar al-Sharia in Tunisia (AST), 14–52, 206–7, 214

Ansar Dine (AD), 66–68. 213

Aouzou Strip, Chad, 136, 142–43, 146–49, 152, 157–58, 161

Arab Spring, 9–11, 24, 24fn35, 30fn57, 36fn82, 72, 205–6, 209

Armée Nationale de Libération (National Liberation Army of Chad [ANL]), 

145, 147–48, 213

Armées pour la Libération du Rwanda (Armed Forces of Rwanda [FAR]), 

215. See also ex-FAR; Rwanda

Armed Islamic Group (GIA), 8, 55–57, 60, 69, 71, 216

Arusha Accords, 89, 90fn23, 107–8, 107fn7, 115, 208. See also Rwanda
Index 225

Assistance Agreement, 130, 130fn25

Azizi, Amir, 58–59. See also al-Qaeda Central

B

Bakassi Boys, 189, 214 

Bamako, Mali, 54, 65–68, 77, 79–81, 206

Barber, Benjamin, 13, 203–4, 204fn5

Barre, Mohamed Siad, 2, 85

Bayart, Jean-François, 5, 5fn13

Belaïd, Chokri, 16, 36, 41–43. See also Ansar al-Sharia in Tunisia; Popular 

Front

Belmokhtar, Mokhtar, 64, 71. See also al-Mua’qi’oon Biddan

Ben Ali, Zine al-Abidine, 14–52, 207, 209

Ben Amor, Mustapha, 24

Ben Brik, Hassan, 15, 18–20. See also Ansar al-Sharia

Benghazi, Libya, 53–54, 63–65, 72, 206

Ben Jeddou, Lofti, 42, 49

Ben Mbarek, Jaouhar, 3

Ben Rayes, Sayf al-Din, 18

Biafra, 168, 184, 187, 194, 196–97, 199–200. See also Nigeria

bin Laden, Osama, 3, 7, 15, 22, 57, 69. See also al-Qaeda

bin Salih Essid, Sami bin Khamis, 18

Bizimungu, Augustin, 109. See also ex-FAR

Boko Haram (BH), 8, 13, 72, 181, 183, 189, 205–6, 210–11, 214. See also 

Islamic State

Boré, Henri, 10, 73, 206

Borkou-Ennedi-Tibesti prefecture, Chad (BET), 132–33, 146–49, 214

Bouchat, Clarence, 12, 163, 166fn14, 206
226 The Crisis of the African State

Bouzid, Nouri, 30

Brahmi, Mohamed, 16, 36, 41, 43. See also Ansar al-Sharia in Tunisia

C

Celso, Anthony N., 10, 13, 53, 206

Central African Republic, 2, 144, 156. See also Fragile States Index

Chad, 2, 121–62. See also Ansar al-Sharia in Libya; Borkou-Ennedi-Tibesti 

prefecture; Forces Armées du Nord; Forces Armées Tchadiennes; Frag

ile States Index; Front de Libération Nationale du Tchad; Front de Libération

du Tchad; Mouvement Patriotique du Salut; National Liberation Army of 

Chad; Parti Progressiste Tchadien; Union Démocratique Tchadien

Chadian Democratic Union (UDT), 129, 222

Chadian Progressive Party (PPT), 129, 220

Chaieb, Mohamed Anis, 19

Chebbi, Ahmed Nejib, 49

Chua, Amy, 1, 13, 208. See also World on Fire

Clash of Civilizations, 203–4. See also Huntington, Samuel

Clinton, William J., 3

Conseil Démocratique Révolutionnaire (Democratic Revolutionary Council 

[CDR]), 142, 145, 148–49, 214

Conseil Suprême Militaire (Supreme Military Council [CSM]), 134–36, 139, 

141, 214

Côte d’Ivoire, 2, 54, 72, 75, 83, 130. See also Fragile States Index

Counterinsurgency Warfare, 73. See also Galula, David

D

Dallaire, Roméo, 88–89. See also UN Assistance Mission for Rwanda

Dawa, 10, 14–16, 18, 20–23, 25–28, 34–36, 39, 43, 51–52. See also Ansar 

al-Sharia in Tunisia; Ben Brik, Hassan

Déby, Idriss, 75–76, 150. See also Chad
Index 227

de Gaulle, Charles, 129, 151, 153. See also France; Rwandan Patriotic Front

Dergue, 85, 93, 95–97, 99, 101. See also Ethiopia; Eritrea; Tigrayan People’s

Liberation Front

Democratic Republic of the Congo, 2, 6, 82–83, 90, 100, 104, 114–15, 119–

20, 128, 130, 156, 204. See also Alliance of Democratic Forces for the 

Liberation of Congo-Zaire; First Congo War; Fragile States Index; Sec

ond Congo War

Droukdel, Abdelmalek (Abu Musab Abdel Wadoud), 37, 59, 69. See also

al-Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb; Salafist Group for Preaching and 

Combat

Dutch disease, 169–72. See also Nigeria

E

East Africa, 7–8

Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS), 67, 75–78, 80, 

163, 214

Egbe Omo Oduduwa(Society of the Descendants of Oduduwa), 186, 215

Egypt, 8–9, 22, 71, 145, 205, 207, 210. See also al-Qaeda; Arab Spring; 

Egyptian Islamic Jihad; Muslim Brotherhood

Egyptian Islamic Jihad (EIJ), 22, 215. See also al-Zawahiri, Ayman el-Khadmi,

Noureddine, 21

Ennahda Movement, 23, 42–43. See also Tunisia

Erais, Saif Eddine, 39. See also Ansar al-Sharia in Tunisia

Eritrea, 11, 82–103, 198, 209. See also Eritrean Liberation Front; Eritrean 

People’s Liberation Front

Eritrean Liberation Front (ELF), 92–94, 215

Eritrean People’s Liberation Front (EPLF), 84–85, 91–96 98–100, 100–2, 215

Ethiopia, 2–3, 6, 11, 70, 82–103, 198, 209. See also Ethiopian People’s Revolutionary Democratic Front; Fragile States Index; Tigrayan People’s 

Liberation Front; Transitional Federal Government
228 The Crisis of the African State

Ethiopian People’s Revolutionary Democratic Front (EPRDF), 97–99, 101–2, 

215. See also Tigrayan People’s Liberation Front

Ex-FAR/Interahamwe, 104, 109–12, 114. See also Rwanda

Extractive Industries Transparency Initiative (EITI), 178, 215. See also Nigeria

F

Fifth column, 60, 87. See also Armed Islamic Group; Salafist Group for 

Preaching and Combat; 

First Congo War, 115. See also Democratic Republic of the Congo

First Liberation Army (FLA), 132, 145, 216

Forces Armées Nationales du Tchadiennes (National Armed Forces of Chad

[FANT]), 145–49, 159, 215. See also Habré, Hissène

Forces Armées du Nord (Armed Forces of the North [FAN]), 132, 136, 

139–41, 143, 145,147fn59, 158–59, 215. See also Habré, Hissène; Front 

de Libération Nationale du Tchad

Forces Armées Populaires (People’s Armed Forces [FAP]), 137–38, 140–41, 

145, 148, 215. See also Oueddei, Goukouni

Forces Armées Tchadienne (Chadian Armed Forces [FAT]), 133–34, 139, 

145, 215

Forces Démocratiques pour la Libération du Rwanda (Democratic Liberation

Forces of Rwanda [FDLR]), 114, 215

Fragile States Index, 2

France, 10–11, 29, 54–55, 62, 68–69, 72, 80, 89, 121–62, 206, 210. See also

Armed Islamic Group; Chad; Libya; Mali; Operation Serval; Tunisia

Front de Libération Nationale (National Liberation Front [FLN]), 56, 216

Front de Libération Nationale du Tchad (National Liberation Front of Chad

[FROLINAT]), 131–34, 136, 141, 152, 154, 156, 216. See also Borkou

-Ennedi-Tibesti prefecture; Gouvernement d’Union Nationale de

Transition

Front de Libération du Tchad (Liberation Front of Chad [FLT]), 131, 216
Index 229

Fund for Peace, 2. See also Fragile States Index

G

Gacaca court, 119. See also Rwanda

Galula, David, 73, 78, 81

Gartenstein-Ross, Daveed, 9–10, 14, 206

Genocidaires, 89–90, 108, 110, 114, 119. See also France; Habyarimana, 

Juvénal; Rwanda

Genocide, 6, 11–12, 85, 87–91, 101, 104–20, 207, 209, 219. See also Rwanda;

Uganda

Ghali, Iyad Ag, 66. See also Ansar Dine

Global Islamic Media Front, 23

Global War on Terrorism (GWOT), 54, 57–58, 60, 216. See also al-Qaeda; 

bin Laden, Osama

Gouvernement d’Union Nationale de Transition (Transitional Government 

of National Unity [GUNT]), 140–46, 159–60, 216. See also Chad; Habré, 

Hissène; Libya; Oueddei, Goukouni

Gowon, Yakubu, 173

Gribbin, Robert, 11–12, 104

Gross domestic product (GDP), 44, 164, 167, 167fn16, 169, 173

Guinea Bissau, West Africa, 2. See also Fragile States Index

H

Habré, Hissène, 75, 136–39, 141, 143–50, 147fn59, 152, 158–60. See also

Forces Armées du Nord; France; Libya

Habyarimana, Juvénal, 86–87, 89, 106–7, 115–16. See also Arusha Accords; 

genocidaires; National Revolutionary Movement for Development; 

Rwanda

Haftar, General Khalifa, 64, 71

Hisba, 10, 14–15, 25, 28–34, 51. See also Ansar al-Sharia in Tunisia

Hollande, François, 80. See also France; Mali
230 The Crisis of the African State

Human Rights Watch (HRW), 32–33, 147fn59, 216

Huntington, Samuel, 13, 203–4, 207

Hutu, 11, 13, 86–87, 89–90, 104–20, 208. See also genocide; Rwanda

I

Ibos, 6

indigeneship, 189–91, 202, 216

Inter-African Force (IAF), 145, 216. See also Organisation of African Unity

International Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda, 118

International Monetary Fund (IMF), 5, 13, 205, 208, 216, 221

Iraq War, 57, 59. See also al-Qaeda; Global War on Terrorism

Irredentist movement, 6, 53

Islamic Court Union (ICU), 3, 217

Islamic Legion, 143, 148

Islamic Salvation Front (FIS), 7, 55–57, 216. See also Algeria

Islamic State (IS), 13, 51–52, 55, 64, 70–72, 181, 206, 210–11. See also Boko 

Haram; Tunisia

Islamic State of Iraq (ISI), 70. See also al-Qaeda

Iwawa, Rwanda, 109–10. See also ex-FAR

J

Jabhat al-Nusra (or al-Nusra Front [JN]), 34, 70, 217

Jama’atu Nasril Islam (Society for the Support of Islam [JNI]), 184, 217

Jamiyya Mutanen Arewa, 186, 217 

Jebel ech Chaambi, 16, 36–41, 43, 45–47. See also Ansar al-Sharia in Tunisia

Jebel Salloum, 46

Jebel Semama, 46–47

Jelassi, Anis, 15, 35, 37. See also Tunisia

Jemaah Islamiyah, 27
Index 231

Jihad, 1–72, 203–11. See also al-Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb; Ansar 

al-Sharia in Tunisia

Jomaa, Mehdi, 17

Jonathan, Goodluck, 192. See also Nigeria

K

Kagame, Paul, 11, 88–90, 105–6, 112, 116–17, 120, 209. See also Rally of the

French People; Rwanda; Rwandan Patriotic Army

Kairouan Conference, 21–22, 36, 38–41. See also Ansar al-Sharia in Tunisia

Kairouan, Tunisia, 16, 21, 29, 38–40, 51

Kammoun, Mehdi, 18. See also Ansar al-Sharia in Tunisia

Kaplan, Robert, 13, 204

Karoui, Nebil, 30–31

Katibat Uqba ibn Nafi, 15–16, 21, 24, 35–38, 45–46, 51–52. See also al-Qaeda

in the Islamic Maghreb; Ansar al-Sharia in Tunisia; Jebel ech Chaambi; 

Tunisia

Kazdaghli, Habib, 32

Kenya, 2, 6, 8, 83, 205. See also Fragile States Index

Key performance indicator (KPI), 127, 217

L

Lagos Accords, 140, 140fn44, 143, 159

Lagos, Nigeria, 140–41, 159, 198–200

Lashkar e-Tayyiba, 27. See also al-Qaeda

Lawrence, T. E., 10, 73, 75–76, 78, 81

Liberia, 82, 100

Libya, 8, 10, 12, 17, 22, 24, 35, 53–72, 121–62, 205–7, 209. See also al-Qaeda

in the Islamic Maghreb; Ansar al-Sharia; Ansar al-Sharia in Tunisia; Chad;

France; Islamic State
232 The Crisis of the African State

M

Maaroufi, Tarek, 18. See also Ansar al-Sharia in Tunisia

Maghreb, 8–11, 15, 53–72, 181, 203, 206, 209. See also al-Qaeda; al-Qaeda

in the Islamic Maghreb

Maghreb-Sahel region, 54

Magri, Rajab, 33. See also Ansar al-Sharia in Tunisia

Mahdist, 7

Maitatsine, 181, 183, 217. See also Boko Haram

Mali, 8, 10, 15, 19, 24, 34–35, 53–81, 206, 209–10. See also African-led Inter

national Support Mission to Mali; al-Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb; Ansar

Dine; France; jihadist

Malloum, Félix, 134–40, 152, 156. See also Chad; Conseil Suprême Militaire;

France

Manouba University, Tunisia, 32

Mariam, Mengistu Haile, 98. See also Marxist

Marwa, Mohammed, 217–18. See also Maitatsine

Marxist, 85, 93–94, 96, 98, 207

Massoud, Ahmad Shah, 18

Member of parliament (MP), 115, 117. See also Rwanda

Merone, Fabio, 19–20. See also Ansar al-Sharia in Tunisia

Moroccan Islamic Combatant Group (GICM), 58–60

Mouvement Démocratique Républicain (Republican Democratic Movement

[MDR]), 116

Mouvement Patriotique du Salut (Patriotic Salvation Movement [MPS]), 150

Movement for the Emancipation of the Niger Delta (MEND), 188, 218

Movement for Unity and Jihad in West Africa (MUJWA), 66, 205

Mubarak, Hosni, 7, 209

Mujahideen, 7–8, 218
Index 233

Museveni, Yoweri, 87, 105–6. See also National Resistance Movement; 

Uganda

Muslim Brotherhood (MB), 9, 207, 210

N

Nalbandov, Robert, 12–13, 121

Naji, Abu Bakr, 58. See also al-Qaeda

Nasri, Mohamed Ali, 49

National Council of Nigeria and the Cameroons (NCNC), 186, 218–19

National Liberation Front (FLN), 56. See also Algeria

National Movement for the Liberation of Azawad (MNLA), 53, 65–66

National Party of Nigeria (NPN), 184–85, 219

National Resistance Army (NRA), 105–6, 219. See also Uganda

National Resistance Movement (NRM), 84

National Revolutionary Movement for Development (MRND), 115. See also

Habyarimana, Juvénal

Native Authority system (NA), 185, 218

N’Djamena, Chad, 75–76, 134, 136–41, 143–50, 155, 158–59. See also 

France; Libya; Operation Manta

Niger, 2, 8, 54, 64, 68–69, 72, 74, 78, 80, 130, 138, 140, 152, 206. See also

al-Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb; Fragile States Index; France; jihadist

Niger Delta, 13, 174, 176, 188, 196–97, 200, 218–19

Niger Delta People’s Volunteer Force (NDPVF), 188, 219

Nigeria, 2, 6–8, 12–13, 74, 76, 140–41, 145, 163–202, 206, 209–11

North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO), 53, 64–65, 51

Northern Alliance, 18

Northern Elements Progressive Union (NEPU), 186, 219. See also Nigeria

Northern People’s Congress (NPC), 184–86, 217, 219. See also Nigeria
234 The Crisis of the African State

O

Obasanjo, Olusegun, 178, 180. See also Nigeria

Obote, Apolo Milton, 87. See also Uganda

Oodua Liberation Movement (OLM), 220

Oodua Peoples Congress (OPC), 189, 220. See also Nigeria

Operations 

Barkhane, 72. See also Chad; France

Épervier, 147, 150fn62, 152. See also Chad; France; Libya

Manta, 146–47, 152. See also Chad; France; Libya

Rainbow, 182. See also Nigeria

Serval, 68, 80. See also France; Mali

Turquoise, 104, 109–10. See also France; Rwanda

Yaki, 182. See also Nigeria

Organisation of African Unity (OAU), 93, 144–45, 149, 219. See also Chad; 

Libya

Organisation of the Islamic Conference (OIC), 163, 219

Organization of the Petroleum Exporting Countries (OPEC), 163, 220

Oueddei, Goukouni, 75

P

Parti Progressiste Tchadien (Chadian Progressive Party [PPT]), 129, 220. See 

also Chad

Patrimonial state, 5, 205, 209. See also Bayart, Jean-François

People’s Democratic Organizations (PDO), 97. See also Ethiopian People’s 

Revolutionary Democratic Front; Tigrayan People’s Liberation Front

People’s Redemption Party (PRP), 187, 220

Popular Movement for the Liberation of Chad, 132. See also Third Liberation

Army
Index 235

la Première Armée (First Liberation Army [FLA]), 132, 145, 216

Purchasing power parity (PPP)

Q

Qaddafi, Muammar, 8–10, 17, 53, 57, 63–72, 74–75, 132, 142, 144–45, 148–

49, 158–59, 206–9. See also al-Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb; Chad; 

Libya; Tunisia

Qadiriyya, 180, 220

R

Rabia, Abu Hamza, 59. See also al-Qaeda

Rally of the French People (Rassemblement du Peuple Français (Rally of the

French People [RPF]), 129, 221. See also de Gaulle, Charles

Rentier state, 168–79, 202. See also Nigeria

Renzaho, Tharcisse, 109

Revival of Islamic Heritage Society (RIHS), 27, 221

Rezgui, Zeineb, 30, 33. See also Ansar al-Sharia in Tunisia

Rwanda, 6, 11, 82–91, 100–2, 104–20. See also genocide

Rwandan Patriotic Army (RPA), 104–16. See also Rwanda

Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF), 11, 84–91, 100–2, 106–20, 129, 209, 221. See

also Rwanda

Rwandese Alliance for National Unity (RANU), 86

Rwigema, Pierre-Célestin, 111, 116. See also Rwanda

Rwigyema, Fred, 87, 105–6. See also Rwandan Patriotic Army; Rwandan

Patriotic Front

S

Sahel, 8, 54, 57, 60, 62–64, 72, 74–80, 142, 203–6, 209

Salafist Group for Preaching and Combat (GSPC), 57–60. See also al-Qaeda

Salim, Marjan, 22
236 The Crisis of the African State

Sanogo, Amadou, 79

Sara group, 131

Second Congo War, 115

Seko, Mobutu Sese, 5–6. See also Democratic Republic of the Congo

Seven Pillars of Wisdom, 73, 75

Sharia law, 3, 67, 70

Siddick, Abba, 132. See also First Liberation Army

Sierra Leone, 6, 82–83, 100

Single-party state, 4, 6, 56, 209. See also First Liberation Army; Islamic Sal

vation Front

Somalia, 2–3, 8, 82, 85, 128, 198, 203, 222. See also al-Qaeda; Fragile States

Index; Transitional Federal Government

South Sudan, 2, 4, 198. See also Fragile States Index

Spears, Ian, 11, 82

Stevens, J. Christopher, 63. See also Benghazi

Structural Adjustment Policies (SAP), 13, 205, 208, 221. See also International

Monetary Fund

Sub-Saharan Africa, 80

Sudan, 2–4, 7–8, 12, 142–45, 150, 166, 201. See also Fragile States Index

Sufi, 53, 67, 180, 203, 220–21. See also Qadiriyya

Sufism, 7

T

Takfir doctrine, 8, 56fn8

Taliban, 3, 22, 53, 58, 60, 67. See also Afghanistan

Third Liberation Army, 132, 141. See also Chad

Tigrayan People’s Liberation Front (TPLF), 84–85, 95–99, 100–2

Tijaniyya, 180, 222. See also Sufi
Index 237

Tombalbaye, François, 129, 131–36, 152, 154. See also Chad; France; Parti 

Progressiste Tchadien

Toufi, Riadh, 24. See also Katibat Uqba ibn Nafi

Transitional Federal Government in Somalia (TFG), 3, 222

Tribalism, 1–14, 203–12

Tuareg, 8, 53–54, 63, 65–67, 71, 74, 76–81, 206. See also al-Qaeda in the 

Islamic Maghreb; Mali

Tunisia, 8–10, 14–52, 57–58, 61, 205–10. See also al-Qaeda; Ansar al-Sharia 

in Tunisia; Islamic State; jihadist

Tunisian Army, 38

Tunisian Combatant Group (TCG), 18, 221–22

Tunisian National Guard, 15, 35, 37, 48

Tutsi, 6, 11, 13, 85–91, 101, 104–12, 115–18. See also Rwanda; Rwandan 

Patriotic Army; Rwandan Patriotic Front

U

Uganda, 6, 84, 86–87, 100, 105–6, 108, 114, 116–17, 219. See also Museveni,

Yoweri; National Resistance Army; National Resistance Movement;

Union Démocratique Tchadien (Chadian Democratic Union UDT), 129, 222

United Nations (UN), 2–3, 11, 13, 61, 78, 80, 88, 90fn24, 92–94, 109, 111, 

118, 123, 181. See also genocide; operations; Mali; Rwanda

United Nations Assistance Mission for Rwanda (UNAMIR), 88fn15, 109

Unity Party of Nigeria (UPN), 187, 222

U.S. Department of the Treasury, 27

W

Wadoud, Abu Musab Abdel, 23, 37. See also al-Qaeda in the Islamic 

Maghreb

Wahhabi, 7

Weberian states, 83
238 The Crisis of the African State

Westphalian state, 4

World on Fire, 1

Y

Yemen, 23–24, 70, 214. See also al-Qaeda; al-Qaeda in the Arabian Peninsula;

Ansar al-Sharia

Z

Zaire, 11, 86, 104–5, 109–111, 113–15, 117, 213. See also genocide; ex-FAR;

Rwandan Patriotic Army; Rwandan Patriotic Front

Zeid, Abdelhamid Abou, 68. See also al-Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb

Zenawi, Meles, 98

Zimbabwe, 2, 6. See also Fragile States Index

Zoning system, 192, 202, 222
Cover art: Grain Queue, Somalia

by Col Peter Michael Gish, USMCR (Ret)