Substantial efforts are needed to reduce political tensions ahead of elections in 2021.
USIP Publication: Aly Verjee | Tuesday, November 24, 2020
As violence continues over control of the northern Ethiopian region of Tigray, Ethiopia’s future remains unsettled, even if the conflict ends soon. Achieving the federal government’s security objectives in Tigray is unlikely to resolve both new and entrenched political challenges, and already delayed national elections, now expected in 2021, may prove a severe test of Ethiopia’s political order, and consequently affect broader regional stability. Reconciling the electoral process with efforts for reconciliation and national dialogue is now even more imperative.
The Conflict in Tigray
War sometimes starts like clockwork but predicting the date on which a conflict will end often leads to disappointment. Yet from the start of armed hostilities with the Tigrayan People’s Liberation Front (TPLF), Ethiopian Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed promised the conflict would be swift and decisive. On November 6, Abiy wrote that “operations by federal defense forces underway in Northern Ethiopia have clear, limited and achievable objectives.” On November 9, the prime minister said the military operation “will wrap up soon,” and the next day, that “our law enforcement operations in Tigray are proceeding as planned: operations will cease as soon as the criminal junta is disarmed, legitimate administration in the region restored, and fugitives apprehended and brought to justice—all of them rapidly coming within reach.” Claims that the conflict will be short-lived have also been echoed by senior American officials: U.S. Ambassador to Ethiopia Michael Raynor told journalists on November 19 that “another aspect of this is the Ethiopian government continues to articulate a vision of the military conflict coming to an end fairly soon, a week or two from now.”
Despite limitations on independent reporting and the severing of most communications, the federal government has announced significant military advances, capturing a number of important towns and cities in Tigray, including Shire on November 17, Axum and Adwa on November 20, and Adigrat on November 21. The TPLF has made counterclaims: that it inflicted significant casualties on federal forces in Raya and to have repulsed federal forces in Mehoni and Zalambessa. For the federal government, taking control of the state capital of Tigray, and its largest city, Mekelle, is now the principal remaining tactical military objective.
However, even if Abiy’s military objectives are quickly achieved, experiences of warfare in northern Ethiopia dating back a century suggest that it is much easier to capture territory than it is to hold it. It is unclear what a successful strategy for the federal government will be if it is able to capture Tigray’s urban centers but cannot command the widespread acceptance of Tigray’s people. While the fighting of the last few weeks may have significantly degraded the TPLF’s military capacity, it is unlikely that the federal government can entirely subdue the TPLF as a political entity, which retains the support of a substantial number of Tigrayans. Further, the TPLF’s historic capacity to wage guerrilla warfare from the rural mountains of Tigray may not be definitively eroded by its losses in conventional warfare.
While some in the federal government have indicated that they would accept a refashioned TPLF led by moderates, external efforts to re-engineer the party may well be counterproductive and only risk further alienating some Tigrayan constituencies. Therefore, as focused on their immediate objectives and consequently as reluctant to seek dialogue and compromise as they may be, the parties in conflict may find that a negotiated settlement may ultimately be the only realistic choice, if not imminently, then in the months ahead. Moreover, the federal government must soon confront an even bigger problem in 2021: how to conduct peaceful and credible elections.
The Prospects and Difficulties of Elections
National elections are overdue and are now expected to be held next year. While in February 2020, the National Election Board of Ethiopia (NEBE) announced that elections would be held in August 2020, by the end of March, the Board had decided to indefinitely delay the elections because of the COVID-19 pandemic. As NEBE explained, several important preparatory tasks were unable to be completed in March, meaning that the crucial voter registration exercise, which was expected to register tens of millions of prospective voters, was unable to commence in April.
Beyond the national polls, each regional state of Ethiopia is also due to hold elections for their state legislatures. It was the Tigray region’s decision to proceed with organizing its own elections in September, in defiance of the federal government and without the oversight and participation of the NEBE, that contributed to a deterioration of relations between Tigray and Addis Ababa, and which was a further step toward the violence now occurring.
Even without the impact of COVID-19 and the situation in Tigray, Ethiopia’s next national elections are fraught with difficulty. The polls are expected to be the first competitive elections since 2005 and raise fundamental questions about the future order of the Ethiopian state. Abiy’s new political vehicle, the Ethiopian Prosperity Party, is the national frontrunner, constructed from the former Ethiopian People’s Revolutionary Democratic Front ruling coalition, which was once led by the TPLF. Apart from the TPLF, a number of new opposition political parties are expected to contest the polls.
The challenges faced in administering elections are significant. The first problem is one of election administration, operations and reform: a rush to organize elections in early 2021, as some have suggested, may easily worsen the political situation across the country, as in such a limited time, elections are unlikely to be effectively administered. In May, the NEBE proposed two scenarios on which to base a prospective electoral calendar: the first required 224 days to prepare for and conduct elections, and the second required 276 days. However, at the end of October, NEBE proposed that the elections be held in late May or June 2021, contingent on beginning poll worker training in December and voter registration in January.
As early as December 2018, a USAID pre-elections assessment found that “there is a lack of consensus about specific solutions and timing of reforms in relation to the election cycle, and that information about and support for the reforms is inconsistent. The reform process has been largely elite-driven and concentrated in Addis Ababa, and there is a lack of clarity on a specific road map to achieving the goals set out by the prime minister.” While there has been some important progress since that assessment was made, conducting elections in Ethiopia will be the largest democratic exercise in the country’s history; the technical challenges should not be underestimated and cannot easily be expedited. More recently, NEBE has noted that the possibility of constitutional and electoral reform could also complicate the electoral calendar and has warned, “Preparations for electoral process based on [an] unstable timeline are not advisable. Only once these processes [of constitutional and electoral reform] are completed should an electoral timeline be consulted and announced, and preparations begin in earnest.”
The second, more profound problem in conducting elections concerns broader needs for security, trust, reconciliation, and the ability of Ethiopians to freely engage in open political discourse, debate, and campaigning. Even before the conflict with Tigray, there were more than 1.8 million internally displaced persons in Ethiopia. In May, Amnesty International reported that at least 10,000 people had been “arbitrarily arrested and detained last year as part of the government’s crackdown on armed attacks and violence in Oromia Region,” and in July, that another 5,000 had been arrested following protests the previous month. A number of prominent political figures and journalists were jailed before the Tigray conflict began, and more arrests of journalists have followed this month.
For their part, American officials have asserted that the conflict in Tigray has served to unite Ethiopians. Assistant Secretary of State for Africa Tibor Nagy told journalists on November 19 that “it seems like [the conflict in Tigray] has brought the Ethiopian nation together, at least for the time being, in support of the prime minister …” Ambassador Raynor added that “the rest of the country actually remains quite calm at present, no indications of anyone taking up comparable actions elsewhere, and in fact the opposite. Seemingly both regional governments, federal governments, and large swaths of the people galvanizing around the [federal] government.”
Unfortunately, violence has continued elsewhere in Ethiopia. In a recent tragic incident, the Ethiopian Human Rights Commission reported that at least 34 people were killed in a November 14 attack on a bus in Benishangul. Further, as the U.N. Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs pointed out on November 20, “Humanitarian partners in Ethiopia are further concerned about the increasing report of violence in Oromia and Southern Nations Nationalities and Peoples (SNNP) regions. Violent incidents involving unidentified armed groups have been reported on an almost daily basis, mainly in the Western Oromia region, while several thousand people were reportedly displaced by inter-communal violence in Konso zone, SNNPR on 16 November.” Alas, any short-term increase in perceived or real Ethiopian national unity resulting from the current Tigray confrontation does little to address the problems of arbitrary detention or intercommunal violence elsewhere in the country.
For successful elections to be held, credibly and non-coercively addressing both insecurity and the underlying grievances behind the violence will be essential. An adequate response necessitates efforts at reconciliation, justice, and inclusive dialogue. While wider questions of reconciliation, reform, and elections cannot be the first point on the agenda in any eventual negotiations between the federal government and the TPLF, discussing them cannot be indefinitely avoided, either. More importantly, discussions on such issues must include many more political and civil actors beyond those now in conflict if at least a degree of national consensus is to be achieved. Squaring the electoral preparations and timetable with a plan for reconciliation and national dialogue may thus be imperative for a peaceful future in Ethiopia.
Source: The African Report
The deadly conflict between Ethiopia’s federal government and Tigrayan rebels continues to intensify, especially after Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed issued a warning on Sunday to surrender within 72 hours. But despite international calls for a cease in action, many regional neighbours, including the small state of Djibouti, are supporting the PM’s stance.
With less than five months to go before the presidential election, Djibouti’s head of state takes stock of his efforts to tackle economic and social issues, internal opposition, a war in Ethiopia and the country’s relations with China, France and the United States.
The virus quietly arrived in Djibouti one evening in mid-March 2020, aboard a Spanish military plane that had taken off from Seville. Eight months later, the silent killer continues to lurk in spite of the health authorities’ swift implementation of the “three Ts” (test, trace and treat), with 8% of the country’s population tested to date, i.e., the highest rate in the region.
Economic slowdown
Though the government of this city-state with 1 million residents has taken an optimistic view of the future – it forecasts a return to growth in 2021 – the fallout of the COVID-19 pandemic is weighing heavily on its economy, which was in full swing before it ground to a halt. The Addis Ababa-Djibouti railway line, one of the country’s essential arteries, is running on a reduced schedule, while the stately hotel located in the continent’s largest free zone, just a few kilometres away from the capital, remains hopelessly empty.
But according to Aboubaker Omar Hadi, president of the Djibouti Ports & Free Zones Authority and one of Ismaïl Omar Guelleh’s closest associates, “It’s merely a setback, our fundamentals are strong.”
“Fundamentals”? The former French colony is ideally located along the world’s second-busiest shipping route, a gateway to trade with a wide swath of Africa, backed by a market of 400 million people. Its strategic geographic location is also a coveted spot for foreign military bases. Lastly, it also has political stability going for it: contrary to what happens elsewhere, Djibouti’s elections aren’t highly tense affairs.
Unshakeable calm
These advantages – combined with a government that the opposition calls authoritarian and which, it’s true, prioritises development and the fight against endemic poverty and unemployment over the expansion of freedoms – explain the unshakeable calm of President Guelleh, 73, who has been running the country since 1999.
Although he still refuses to say as much, no one in Djibouti has any doubt that the leader, who welcomed one of our reporters at the presidential palace for a long interview, will stand for re-election next April. He is the clear favourite, as if the exercise were a one-horse race.
Among the numerous Djibouti hub development projects you have launched in recent months in spite of the pandemic, ranging from the new Damerjog oil terminal to the capital’s business district, not to mention the ship maintenance yard, one in particular has attracted a lot of attention: the road corridor connecting the Port of Tadjoura to northern Ethiopia. Are you looking to gain a competitive edge over Eritrea’s Port of Massawa, which underwent a major renovation after the thaw in relations between Addis Ababa and Asmara?
Ismaïl Omar Guelleh: In the long run, yes, we always need to be a few steps ahead. But competition between Djibouti and Eritrea isn’t imminent: connecting Massawa via a modern railway line requires extremely costly and complex rehabilitation, upgrading and construction works given the region’s hilly topography.
Another competitor, one that poses a greater short-term challenge, is the Port of Berbera in Somaliland, in which your former partner, the Emirati company DP World, plans to invest massively.
Massively? I haven’t heard anything of the sort so far, other than project proposals. DP World excels at creating buzz, but then, in the end, nothing happens. You don’t even see the slightest crane in the sky. We are paid to know.
On that note, how is the commercial dispute between Djibouti and DP World, which you sidelined from managing the Port of Doraleh two years back, going?
The court proceedings are still under way in London and will perhaps begin soon in the United States. These people who stubbornly refuse to sit down and have a discussion with us aren’t interested in money. They’re too rich for that. What they want is for their old monopoly status to be fully reinstated. Their attitude stems from a desire to wield geopolitical control over all the region’s ports. But Djibouti isn’t just another square on a chessboard: we will not go back to the way things were.
In mid-September, you launched the Djibouti Sovereign Fund, which will be funded to the tune of $1.5bn over the next decade and whose sole shareholder is the government. Usually, sovereign wealth funds are the prerogative of rich countries. What is the point of the fund?
“We don’t have oil, but we have ideas”: do you remember that French saying from the 1970s? Well, that’s us, too. I asked Lionel Zinsou and Donald Kaberuka to conduct a feasibility study, one that draws on successful sovereign wealth funds, such as those created by Senegal and Singapore.
What we want to do is free ourselves somewhat from conventional debt-driven growth models, pool our domestic resources to create a leverage effect, attract new financing, promote business and job creation, and, lastly, increase our overall wealth.
The Djibouti Sovereign Fund is up and running now. The implementing decrees have been signed. The team is in place and headed by a former Senegalese official specialising in these matters, whom I poached from President Macky Sall with his authorisation. This fund, which I directly oversee, belongs to Djibouti and the Djiboutian people.
The debt Djibouti owes China has for a long time been seen as excessive. Is this still the case today?
Our “Chinese debt” is much lower than what some have said. It amounts to $450m, compared with Ethiopia’s $16bn and Kenya’s $20bn. We have worked really hard on debt restructuring and servicing. The company managing the Addis Ababa-Djibouti railway line, which is the main source of this debt, will be privatised, with Ethiopia and Djibouti retaining ownership of the infrastructure.
Is the railway line profitable?
To make a profit, it needs to reach a frequency of 10 trains a day as soon as possible. That’s our aim. For the time being, because of the COVID-19 pandemic, we are seeing a rate of two to three trains a day.
Youth employment and inclusive growth are the main challenges facing your country, which has a structural poverty rate that encompasses almost 40% of the population. How are you addressing these challenges?
We are constantly working to implement a wide range of measures in the areas of affordable housing, health, education and professional training. The share of the population suffering from what is called “multidimensional poverty” has decreased by more than 15% over the past eight years, especially in rural areas. GDP per capita, which indicates the purchasing power of Djiboutians, has risen by 10% over the same period.
These statistics are encouraging, but we’re not there yet. Our goal is to triple per capita income within 15 years. Social well-being needs to increase in line with our economic growth.
Are you starting to see the beginnings of a middle class?
“Beginnings” is the right word. The cost of living here is high, mostly due to the cost of energy, which is why there are a growing number of wind and solar energy projects.
Ethiopia is a key economic partner for Djibouti. Since Ethiopian Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed took power in 2018, this country of 110 million people is caught between centrifugal forces that threaten its unity. Are you concerned about the situation?
Of course. From the days of the Ethiopian Empire through Meles Zenawi’s leadership, not to mention Mengistu Haile Mariam’s dictatorship, “togetherness” has always been the exception, not the rule, in the country. One group has always dominated another. Ahmed, whose intentions were good, tried to change that. He’s a born optimist, both a politician, military man and very devout evangelical Christian.
But he is coming up against heavy resistance, particularly in the Tigray region, where the population lives under the rule of the Tigray People’s Liberation Front [TPLF]. So, the situation is difficult. That said, our personal and bilateral relations are good.
On 4 November, Ahmed launched a military offensive against the Tigray forces. Was war the only solution?
Let’s try to put ourselves in Ahmed’s shoes. Ethiopia is faced with a major problem: a political organisation known as the TPLF is stripping its federal authority and has structured itself so as to bring the central government to its knees.
Ethiopia’s prime minister has two options to choose from: one, he can negotiate with Tigray’s government, with each party separate and on an equal footing. This can only lead to the partition of Ethiopia, as it will set a precedent under which other regional groups will be able to assert their own secessionist claims. Two, he can restore law and order at the federal level, and punish those seeking to break up the country.
I think Ahmed has taken the second route, which will allow the population to elect their own leaders. That’s why he moved to replace the regional administration and dissolved Tigray’s parliament. It’s clear that as a country that shares its borders with Ethiopia and could thus be impacted by the conflict, Djibouti has one single wish: that peace be restored.
Al-Shabaab, a terrorist group that holds sway in Somalia, is considered al-Qaida’s best organised and most active arm in the world. How is it that this militia continues to pose such a threat, despite the presence of a military mission of 22,000 men – including a contingent from Djibouti – and numerous US drone strikes?
We haven’t yet managed to eliminate the leaders of this terrorist group. But we must, because Al-Shabaab has expanded its influence to the criminal economy, to the extent that it has become a sort of mafia. In the Port of Mogadishu, few containers escape their control: they tax, racketeer, traffic and, more than anything else, corrupt many important figures. They use refugee camps as a recruitment channel, offering young unemployed people food while also indoctrinating, training and arming them.
Legislative elections are scheduled to be held in Somalia in 2021. I fear we will end up with a parliament indirectly controlled by Al-Shabaab because they’ll have bought the support of some of the MPs. The risk that this group poses for the entire region has never been greater.
And Djibouti, with its foreign military bases, is a choice target for these terrorists, who have previously attacked Kenya and Uganda . . .
Yes, that’s clear. They attacked us in 2014. But we’re extremely vigilant, and our intelligence and security agencies are always on high alert.
What gives us the upper hand is that these extremists have virtually no ties to our population: when they try to infiltrate our communities, they are quickly spotted. Also, to get to Djibouti, they have to slip through the net of the Puntland and Somaliland police forces.
Why has the restoration of diplomatic relations between Ethiopia and Eritrea still not had the slightest positive effect on your relationship with Eritrea’s president, Issayas Afeworki?
I met with Issayas in Jeddah in September 2018, but neither the Saudi’s mediation team nor Ahmed’s efforts produced a “peace of the braves”. This is despite the fact that I took the step of releasing 19 Eritrean prisoners of war, which Asmara didn’t want, it seems.
The only explanation I see for this stonewalling is a psychological one: Issayas is unyielding and resentful, and we won’t repeat the exercise. The former Ethiopian prime minister, Meles Zenawi, had warned me: “Once you’re mad at him, he never forgets.”
Several Arab Muslim countries – Bahrain, Sudan and the United Arab Emirates – have announced they are normalising relations with Israel. Will Djibouti follow suit?
No, because the conditions aren’t ripe. We neither have a problem with the Jews as a people nor the Israelis as a nation. Some of them even come to Djibouti on business with their passport, and Djibouti’s citizens have been able to travel to Israel for 25 years now.
However, we take issue with the Israeli government because they’re denying Palestinians their inalienable rights. All we ask that the government do is make one gesture of peace, and we will make 10 in return. But I’m afraid they’ll never do that.
The US has raised concerns about your relations with China on several occasions. It has even been reported that an American general suggested that Beijing had “purchased” the Port of Djibouti. Have these suspicions been cleared up?
They were totally baseless, but I’m not sure they’ve gone away. For instance, we don’t understand why the $25m loan the World Bank promised us in the wake of the COVID-19 pandemic has taken so long to materialise. The president of the World Bank, David Malpass, is a US citizen. Is there a causal connection? I wonder.
And yet you agreed to let the US army occupy the largest foreign military base in Djibouti. Don’t these kinds of activities sometimes encroach on your sovereignty?
We see to it that that doesn’t happen, but it’s not always easy. In 2013, we allowed the United States to use the French military’s Chabelley Airfield, located some 10 kilometres from Djibouti-Ambouli International Airport, as a base for their unmanned aircraft. Since then, the base has become exclusively reserved for the US military.
No one can get in, neither us nor the French. It’s a problem we need to sort out.
You’ve often complained that France doesn’t show much interest in Djibouti, including economically speaking. Has that changed since French President Emmanuel Macron’s visit in March 2019?
Not really, unfortunately. In East Africa, the French only seem interested in Kenya and Ethiopia, with mixed results. Of course, the French electric utility company Engie is investing in Djibouti’s solar and wind power sector, and a delegation from MEDEF [a French business confederation] plans to pay us a visit in January. That’s better than nothing.
But I think that Paris should realise that Djibouti is more than just a strategic geographic location. Djibouti also has a position in the global economy. Others have come to this realisation, and an increasing number of young Djiboutians speak English, which is the language of business in our corner of the world.
Djibouti forcefully pushed to get a seat as a non-permanent member on the UN Security Council but was pipped at the post by Kenya last June. How did you feel about that?
We felt it was unfair and that the African Union had failed us, as they weren’t able to handle the problem. Kenya forced its way through, with the complicity of some Southern African countries, by casting aside every best practice. Nairobi spent a lot of money to get that seat. However, we did manage to prevent our rival from securing a majority and we’ve learned our lesson for next time. You can rest assured that we’ll try again.
Why are you so adamant about putting Djibouti on the world stage? You’ve opened close to 50 embassies, which is a substantial number for a small country of 1 million residents.
Because that’s the only way for us to avoid getting swallowed up in the melting pot of globalisation!
Thirty years ago, Djibouti was only on the map for the former colonial power. Today, we’re on the cusp of becoming a global hub. It’s a matter of political will.
Six months back, a Djiboutian air force pilot named Fouad Youssouf Ali was extradited from Ethiopia. He has been detained in Djibouti ever since, and his fate has troubled some members of the public as well as human rights activists, who consider him a political prisoner. When will he be tried?
He’ll be tried, but justice takes time here, just as in France. As for the rest, this person isn’t a prisoner of conscience. He’s a former air force lieutenant and deserter who tried to fly a plane to reach Eritrea, meaning hostile territory, but ultimately fled to Ethiopia. Can you name a single other country that wouldn’t have charged such a person under the same circumstances?
His prison conditions have sparked concern in Djibouti and Ali Sabieh, the city he’s from. Could the conflict between the Issa and Afar clans, which caused so much harm to the country at the beginning of the 1990s, rear its head again?
Over the past 20 or so years, we have made every effort to strengthen our sense of national unity and to instil a spirit of citizenship. There have never been more interclan marriages between the Issas and Afars than there are today. If there’s one point we are perfectly at ease with, it’s that one.
Why does Djibouti still not have any private, independent media outlets?
Because it’s expensive, quite simply, and the market is small. A few projects are under way in the digital sphere, but the financing capabilities in this area are nowhere near those of Somalia, where tribal solidarity is fully intact.
An online media outlet close to the opposition, “La voix de Djibouti” [The Voice of Djibouti], regularly complains that its journalists are harassed by the police. Isn’t such a practice counter to the principle of freedom of expression enshrined in Djibouti’s constitution?
That media outlet isn’t close to the opposition; it’s an opposition website based in Brussels, Belgium. The correspondents you are talking about aren’t registered journalists, but instead nobodies – some of whom are barely literate – presenting themselves as such. For that matter, we haven’t jailed anyone.
You’re confronted with a determined opposition, whose leaders are divided, including when it comes to their methods of action. Do you benefit from that?
I think it’s too bad. Every democracy needs an opposition that believes in discussion, comparing policies and the country’s future. Our opposition can be summed up by the slogan “Me or chaos”. Whether it’s Daher Ahmed Farah, Abdourahman Mohamed Guelleh or Adan Mohamed Abdou, none of them abide by the rules for forming a party. A party isn’t just some group you register with a founder and 10 or so members that never holds a convention. But we prefer to look the other way.
This state of things came about because the Islamist faction of this coalition, MoDeL [Movement for Democracy and Freedom] – the local chapter of the Muslim Brotherhood – used religion as a mobilising force. We have taken the necessary measures to reduce its impact. The coalition’s main leaders have left Djibouti for Turkey and Canada, where they have nothing other than Facebook to try to indoctrinate followers.
As for sermons, their content is strictly regulated and comes under the exclusive remit of the Ministry of Muslim Affairs. Sermons are sent to each mosque by email, and imams can’t add a single word to them during Friday prayers. I think the French authorities would do well to follow in our footsteps in this regard. It’s the only way to prevent extremism from thriving.
But there isn’t just the main weekly prayer. What about the other sermons?
In Djibouti, imams and muezzins are civil servants paid by the state. If they let a person use their platform to glorify violence and jihad and utter slogans and insults, they’ll be held accountable for it and immediately punished. In this sense, you could say that we have them by the strings. But there’s less and less of a need for us to do this because our religious leaders are increasingly better trained and educated. They realise that true Islam is about knowledge and tolerance.
The presidential election is scheduled to take place in April 2021. Will you stand for a fifth term?
I can’t state my position on that matter at this time. We have to let the country and administration do what they have to do. I’ll make an announcement very shortly, inshallah.
As you must know, no one in Djibouti has any doubt about your stance on that point . . .
Really? Well, give me a bit of time to answer.
Source: Military Watch Magazine
The announcement of plans for the establishment of a Russian naval base on Sudan’s east coast, which has reportedly been under consideration since 2017 but is thought to have been delayed by a Western backed coup in the African country in April 2019, has given are grounds for speculation that Russia could be planning to reestablish a stronger naval presence overseas by opening further facilities in other vital theatres. Late in 2017 the Head of the Russian Defense and Security Committee Viktor Bondarev suggested that Moscow could consider restoring its military presences in Cuba and Vietnam, referring to these countries as Russia’s “historical partners” on the basis that both hosted Soviet military facilities during the Cold War and relied heavily on Soviet support to counter Western threats. Bondarev stated that restoring the country’s military presence was in the “interests of international security,” as a result of “intensified U.S. aggression.”
Russia’s only foreign military facilities outside the former Soviet Union are in Syria, where the country maintains both a key naval base on the Mediterranean Sea in Latakia province, and the nearby Khmemim Airbase which was established in September 2015 to facilitate a contribution to the Syrian government’s war effort. Facilities in Sudan are expected o be ambitious in size, according to the recently released plans, and will have a capacity for 300 military and civilian personnel and four ships including nuclear vessels, indicating that Moscow is willing to invest in such projects to enhance its maritime power projection capabilities and boost its overseas presence. Facilities in Vietnam and Cuba however would allow Russia to project power to strategically critical regions, the former being the most hotly contested and arguably the most strategically critical in the world today, and the latter placing Russian assets near the American coast – and in a strong position to support nearby Venezuela and Bolivia which are important strategic partners. With Russia gently rebalancing its military towards a greater focus on East Asia, Vietnam is a potentially ideal host for historical, political and geographic reasons. Neither China nor North Korea are expected to allow any permanent foreign military presence on their soil, and facilities on Russian territory are effectively boxed in by the Japanese islands, where there is a heavy U.S. presence, which impede open access to the Pacific.
Regarding to the potential for future foreign military facilities, Victor Bondarev stated: “I believe under the condition of increased tension in the world and frank intervention in the internal affairs of other countries – Russia’s historical partners – our return to Latin America is not ruled out. Of course, this should be coordinated with the Cubans… We should also think about our Navy’s return to Vietnam with the permission of the [Vietnamese] government.” He stressed that such steps would be effective responses to increased U.S. assertiveness in both regions. Bondarev has been far from alone in calls for such action, with his statement coming just hours after the first deputy chairman of the Russian parliament’s upper chamber’s Defense and Security Committee, Frants Klintsevich, called for a reopening of military facilities in Cuba specifically. Given the generally low endurance of post-Soviet Russian surface warships, which are no heaver than frigates, the existence of overseas bases is particularly highly valued. Russia’s most heavily armed Soviet era warships, the Kirov Class nuclear powered battlecruisers, are currently undergoing a comprehensive and very ambitious refurbishment which will allow them to deploy considerable force for port visits across much of the world as required – with these having a higher endurance than any surface combatant fielded by any other country.
In 2016 Russian lawmakers Valery Rushkin and Sergei Obukhov submitted a letter to Russian President Vladimir Putin, Russian Foreign Minister Sergei Lavrov and Defense Minister Sergei Shoigu calling on them to consider the restoration of overseas military bases. This development came two years after the Crimean crisis and the sharp deterioration of relations with the West, and following the establishment of Khmeimim Airbase and beginning of a successful military campaign in Syria in 2015. Amid growing tensions with the Western Bloc, and in light of Russia’s expanding roles in both the Pacific and South America, such plans may well come to fruition – in particular if the upcoming U.S. administration recommits the United States to the Pivot to Asia initiative. A Russian military presence would shift the balance of power in both regions significantly against the favour of Western interests, and whether the facilities are naval or air bases they are likely to deploy a number asymmetric military assets such as hypersonic missiless to compensate for a smaller presence. In Vietnam in particular, it would also provide opportunities for more joint military exercises and potentially increase the appeal of more Russian arms purchases for the Vietnamese military – which is considered a leading client for several next generation weapons systems.
Source: Military Watch Magazine
New Facility to Service Nuclear Assets
The Russian Defence Ministry is planning to build a naval base on Sudan’s east coast, which would provide the Navy with its second overseas facility after the one on Syria’s Tartus following the closure of bases in Cuba and Vietnam. The facility was referred to as a “logistical support centre” where “repairs and resupply operations and rest for crew members” can take place, with a draft agreement already having been signed. The facility would have a capacity for 300 military and civilian personnel and four ships, and would be able to accommodate nuclear vessels, making it significantly larger than the Syrian facility at least before its wartime expansion after 2016. It remains uncertain what kind of warships the facility is deigned to accommodate, and whether heavier warships such as battlecruisers will also be accommodated. The base will be located on the northern outskirts of Port Sudan, and Russia will also gain the right to transport “weapons, ammunition and equipment” for the base through Sudanese ports and airports.
Russian Navy Slava Class Missile Cruiser | Military Watch Magazine
Sudan’s military establishment has maintained close defence ties with Russia, despite a Western-backed coup in the country in April 2019 ousting the longtime President Omar Al Bashir who was closely aligned with Moscow. Under Al Bashir’s rule Sudan and Russia were discussing the possibility of a naval base from at least late 2017, alongside the potential sale of advanced Su-30SM and Su-35 fighters to the Sudanese Air Force. Al Bashir had personally appealed to Russian President Vladimir Putin in a visit to Moscow in 2017 to help support Sudan against ongoing Western efforts to partition the country through subversion. Sudan has faced serious political and economic crises since the coup, with the country’s political future highly uncertain. The draft agreement for the naval facility stipulates that its establishment “meets the goals of maintaining peace and stability in the region, is defensive and is not aimed against other countries,” with Sudanese forces maintaining the right to use the mooring area. The deal will stand for 25 years after its signing, and could represent a game changer for the balance of power in the Red Sea as Russia establishes a sizeable military presence in the area. Such a development could also give more clout to Sudan’s military establishment, which is thought to be seeking to contain the empowerment of pro-Western elements in the country
Source: Military Watch Magazine
The Egyptian Air Force has deployed a contingent of its most capable fighter aircraft, the MiG-29M, to neighbouring Sudan for the Protectors of the Nile 2020 military exercises. This follows a Western-backed coup in Khartoum in 2019 which saw the administration of longstanding Western adversary Omar Al Bashir toppled, with Sudan’s political future still uncertain as nationalist, pro-Western, Islamist and other factions continue to vie for influence. The MiG-29M deployments has been met with a number of different interpretations, including a sign of support for the Sudanese Military amid growing instability internally. The Sudanese Air Force itself operates the MiG-29 as its primary frontline fighter, albeit the older but still relatively modern MiG-29SE variant, which until 2015 had a significant qualitative edge over anything in the Egyptian fleet due largely to its use of active radar guided R-77 missiles. Egypt itself was able to acquire the R-77 from 2015 alongside its MiG-29M jets – providing the most advanced air to air missile in both fleets and Egypt’s only active radar guided missile with a range exceeding 100km.
Sudanese Air Force MiG-29 Fighters Escort Su-24M Strike Fighter | Military Watch Magazine
Interoperability between Egyptian and Sudanese air units is expected to be high, and could improve considerably as the two carry out more joint exercises. With Cairo aligning itself closely with Russian since the overthrow of its Western backed Islamist government in 2013, and opposing Western designs in both Syria and Libya, greater Egyptian involvement in Sudan has the potential to tip the balance against of Western interests in the country, reversing many of the gains made since the coup against the Bashir government. While relations between the two East African states have historically been far from positive, with territorial disputes surrounding the Egyptian-held Hala’ib triangle area ongoing, the emergence of common perceived threats to both countries could well lead to the forging of a robust partnership.
By Tsedale Lemma for ©The New York Times
Much of the blame must be laid at the door of the prime minister.
The announcement last week that the government was about to launch a military operation into one of the country’s regions came, to put it lightly, as a shock.
Not only was it very far from the emollient statecraft that won Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed the Nobel Peace Prize last year, it also seemed to shatter the purpose of his premiership. When he rose to power in 2018, Mr. Abiy promised to guide Ethiopia into a new era of peace, prosperity and national reconciliation.
But on Nov. 4, he dispatched the Army to Tigray, one of the country’s 10 semiautonomous regions and home to roughly 6 percent of the population, accusing its leaders — with whom he has increasingly sparred — of attacking a government defense post and attempting to steal military equipment.
And in the days since, Mr. Abiy imposed a six-month state of emergency on the Tigray region, declared its legislature void and approved a provisional replacement. As fighting raged, the internet and telephone networks have been shut down. Hundreds are reported to be dead.
This is a tragedy. Ethiopia stands on the cusp of civil war, bringing devastation to both the country and the wider region. While the situation is volatile and uncertain, this much is clear: Mr. Abiy’s political project, to bring together the nation in a process of democratization, is over. And much of the blame must be laid at his door.
After years of persistent anti-government protests, economic troubles and widespread unrest, Mr. Abiy took over a country on the brink of collapse. At least one million people were internally displaced in 2017, according to the United Nations, as the country was shaken by protests from Oromo and Amhara ethnic groups, who together make up nearly two-thirds of the population. Presenting himself as a reformer, the avalanche of changes promised by Mr. Abiy, who took over in April 2018, seemed to avert the worst of the country’s problems.
But Mr. Abiy overreached. His first cardinal mistake was to sideline the Tigray People’s Liberation Front, for decades the most powerful political force in the country, in the peace he brokered between Ethiopia and Eritrea. By pushing the Tigrayan leadership aside as he sealed his signature achievement, Mr. Abiy made clear the limits to his talk of unity.
That was a taste of what was to come. Last year, Mr. Abiy moved to dismantle the old political order. Going beyond his original remit, he proposed reconfiguring the coalition that had ruled the country for 27 years — the Ethiopian People’s Revolutionary Front, or E.P.R.D.F., which itself comprised a gamut of regional parties — into a new, single party.
The T.P.L.F., which founded and dominated the coalition, was not keen on the change — but Mr. Abiy went ahead with it regardless, creating a rift with the Tigrayans and undermining the country’s delicate political settlement. Far from minimizing the fallout, Mr. Abiy exacerbated it, removing all ministers from the T.P.L.F. from his cabinet.
By the time the new party was announced, in November 2019, the damage was done. The T.P.L.F., angered by the whittling away of its power and concerned that the country’s federal system was under threat, had not joined. They weren’t alone in their disquiet. In Mr. Abiy’s own region, Oromia, many were skeptical of the new order, while southern Ethiopia splintered into disorder, as multiple administrative zones demanded self-rule. After coming to power on the promise of unity, Mr. Abiy had alienated and frustrated key components of his coalition. Suddenly, he looked vulnerable.
The coronavirus changed the calculus. The all-important national election, scheduled for August, was postponed; the focus became how to mitigate the damage wrought by the pandemic. But the political problems didn’t go away.
In the summer, the killing of a popular Oromo musician — whose perpetrators the government claims were acting under the orders of an armed opposition group, the Oromo Liberation Army, and the T.P.L.F. — set off widespread violence against minorities in Oromia and police killings of protesters, in which at least 166 people died. It also led to a major crackdown against opposition political leaders, including Mr. Abiy’s former ally and now fierce critic, Jawar Mohammed.
Then in September, the Tigray region went ahead with its elections, in defiance of the government’s orders. Since that act of subversion, tensions between the government and the leaders in Tigray, simmering for two years, have been high. Last week, they spilled out into open conflict.
Whether or not it escalates into a civil war, it will leave an indelible mark on Ethiopian politics. What was already a deeply polarized country will become more divided still. But most importantly, it could crush the hopes of a democratic transition. Free speech, civil liberties and due process may fall afoul of the turn to militarism and repression.
In Tigray, the possibility of civilian casualties, indiscriminate attacks and protracted conflict could further deepen grievances; in a region with a long history of resistance to the central state, that might lead to an insurgency. The consequences for the wider region, if the conflict were to spill out to Eritrea, Sudan and Djibouti, could be severe.
Judging by Mr. Abiy’s moves over the past week, not least the replacement of the foreign minister and the leaders of the entire security sector with trusted loyalists, he is not inclined to de-escalate. The leader who once committed “to toil for peace every single day and in all seasons” has been acting more like a commander in chief than a prime minister.
Mr. Abiy has come a long way. War, he memorably said as he accepted the Nobel Peace Prize, was “the epitome of hell.” Now he looks ready to meet it.
Tsedale Lemma (@TsedaleLemma) is the editor in chief of the Addis Standard.
With the world’s attention fixated on the United States elections, Ethiopia embarked on a civil war last week. In a time span of five days Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed, who won the 2019 Nobel peace prize after making peace with Eritrea, ended the democratic transition that he had initiated two years before.
In the early hours of Wednesday last week, Abiy ordered federal troops to launch an offensive against the northern region of Tigray, which borders Eritrea and is home to about 6% of the population. Government airstrikes on military positions in Tigray and a telecommunication shutdown began the same day.
Since then, Abiy’s government has purged Tigrayan officials from government positions, mobilised ethnic militias to join the war and rejected international calls for dialogue with leaders of the Tigray People’s Liberation Front (TPLF).
On Saturday, Ethiopia’s parliament replaced Tigray’s elected leadership with a caretaker administration. On Sunday, the prime minister appointed some of his close allies as the new heads of national defence, intelligence and the federal police. Until recently, Abiy preached national unity and forgiveness. So why did he start a civil war?
Abiy’s casus belli is an alleged raid on the headquarters of the Northern Command in Mekelle during which, it is claimed, arms were looted and scores killed. The truth is more complicated. First, the war preparations had been underway for weeks. Federal forces and allied troops from other federal states were in fact massed on the border between Tigray and Amhara as early as late October.
Second, the officer corps of the Northern Command is predominantly Tigrayan and Oromo. The command has been in Mekelle for more than a decade. It had put down deep social roots and developed close ties with the TPLF. When Abiy issued the order for an offensive, the command rejected it and reaffirmed its loyalty to the elected leadership in Tigray. A brief firefight between loyalist and dissident troops ensued, which was quickly suppressed.
The Oromo members of the command are believed to be predominantly supportive of the TPLF. Most are disenchanted with the prime minister’s arrest of Oromo leaders and the heavy-handed crackdown in Oromia.
Third, Tigray is estimated to hold the bulk of Ethiopia’s military hardware. The region has enough helicopter gunships, heavy field guns, tanks and armoured personnel carriers to mount a conventional war. The idea they would raid the command armoury and depots for weapons and ammunition is spurious, fantastical, even.
The role of distrust
Abiy distrusts the professional national army. His relations with the rank and file are brittle. His stint in the army as a radioman in the signals corps and cyber-security department was brief and had not given him the depth and network needed to effectively influence it.
This partly explains why he is increasingly reliant on ethnic forces drawn from other regional states to prosecute the campaign in Tigray. So far, the bulk of the federal fighting force is drawn from a plethora of ethnic armies from the regional states. They include Amhara State special forces and liyu paramilitary police from Oromia.
By outsourcing the war to ethnic units — some with axes to grind against Tigrayans — Abiy is playing a dangerous game almost certain to aggravate the conflict and transforming, potentially, what is a centre-periphery contest into a wider ethnic conflagration.
Both the Tigray leadership and the federal government deserve blame for the current crisis, but it is important to understand the wider context.
The speed at which Abiy evolved from political reformer to war prime minister has astonished his friends and foes alike. When he came to power amid popular unrest in March 2018, Abiy gained overwhelming acclaim as a reformer. He released prisoners, welcomed back the opposition and promised to open up the economy. Yet political liberalisation backfired as pent-up ethnic tensions spiralled out of control, destabilising a nation that has long been considered an anchor of stability in the Horn of Africa region.
Opposition arrests
“Abiymania” dissipated rapidly when it became clear that the new federal leadership was unable to manage these conflicts. Abiy faced serious political opposition from the outgoing TPLF guard, which had dominated the ruling Ethiopian People’s Revolutionary Democratic Front for decades. After he broke with his former colleagues of the Oromo Democratic Party, Abiy faced increasing criticism from Oromo nationalists. They accused him of selling out the Oromo cause; he had many of them arrested in return. Repositioning himself as an Ethiopian nationalist who transcends ethnic cleavages, Abiy created the multi-ethnic, but unitary Prosperity Party that controls all levers of power.
Ethiopia has taken a fatal step towards a full-blown civil war. Armed clashes are now raging on multiple battle fronts. Hundreds of soldiers have died on both sides in less than a week.
Expectations of a swift and clean victory are misplaced. The most likely outcome is a messy and grinding stalemate; and, worse, a protracted insurgency for which TPLF is well-suited. A prolonged conflict is bound to have dire implications. It elevates the prospect of a regionalised and multi-ethnic conflict, risks reversing the economic and development gains made in the past 20 years, and is almost certain to trigger large-scale displacement. Most crucially, it diminishes prospects for furthering democratisation and reduces the chances for credible elections in 2021.
The window for international intervention and mediation is closing very fast. Without a quick, robust and concerted international response to stop the fighting, Ethiopia runs the real risk of crossing the point of no return.
Rashid Abdi is a Horn of Africa analyst based in Nairobi, Kenya. Tobias Hagmann is an associate professor in international development at Roskilde University in Denmark.