Re-imagining the pan-African security partnership: Towards a Nnoboa strategic culture in Africa

Seth Mensah

It is with great humanity and due privilege to be invited as one of the guest panelists, at this high-powered intellectual discourse, holding in this great and widely respected institution, to speak and share knowledge on the future of security issues in Africa. I want to extend my sincere gratitude to the organizers of the summit, most especially my dear good friend, and leader of Africa Security Forum, Mr. Temitope Olodo, for offering me the opportunity to speak, am most honored. Greetings and my love to all the special guests, students, academia, ladies and gentlemen. Abstract: To, fully assess Nigeria security profile, in the context of it's democratic transition period, would be a huge task to undertake considering the complexity of the challenging elements. Though, the country has been experiencing an unprecedented, and uninterrupted period of democratic rule and civilian governance, the longest since independence in 1960. This effort seems to prove a formidable process of stable and progressive democratic order, but not one, without its political challenges, human conflicting errors on resource mismanagement and public corruption, which remains one of its endemic, and existing critical social phenomena orchestrated by the founding-father's political elites (Oligarchy's), North/South poles, from the first republic and then further deconstructed over the years by military conspiracy, and its militocratic rules, of over 38 years. With the emergence of the present fourth republic, which has in many contestation overcome suffers for military coups in most recent time, it has reinforce the expectations of the general populace on the democratic faith associated with the believe for a rapid growth and development, by improving standard of living,

The Ford Institute for Human Security and the Matthew B. Ridgway Center for International Security Studies hosted a panel discussion on September 7, 2011 to celebrate the recent publication of the book African Security and the US African Command. The book is based on the conference, “Conflict, Human Security and Energy: African Reaction to the New US-Africa Command,” held at University of Pittsburgh in March 2009.

One of the core functions of any government is to provide for the security and safety of its citizens. Security, moreover, is a precondition for sustainable investment, jobs creation, and development, which are the preeminent priorities of many African governments. Security, thus, is central to the confidence and trust that citizens have in their government. Yet, most African countries do not have an overarching national security strategy. The lack of a grand strategy inhibits prioritization of security threats, effective coordination, and alignment of resources. Without a national security strategy, there is no shared understanding of national security vision and objectives, and no national basis for leveraging partnership assistance. As a result, in too many African countries, security provision does not serve the public good. National Security Strategy Development (NSSD) is a process of policymaking about how to deliver better state and citizen security. As such, it provides an opportunity to forge a new social contract between a government and its people. Although the African Union has provided general guidelines for its member states to develop national security strategies, there are limited tools available to help African governments with the process. The main objective of this toolkit is to describe a consultative process and serve as a resource to aid national and regional stakeholders in African countries to craft or review their national security strategies. While this toolkit provides guidance to the process, it is not a blueprint. Each country will have to adapt the process to the unique national context and develop homegrown approaches in crafting strategy. This toolkit was developed and informed by the Africa Center’s experience advising various African countries in their NSSD processes, as well as additional case studies,2 inputs from African security sector professionals, and other relevant resources on this topic.

RE-IMAGINING THE PAN-AFRICAN SECURITY PARTNERSHIP: TOWARDS A NNOBOA STRATEGIC CULTURE IN AFRICA SETH APPIAH-MENSAH Diploma US Naval War College MA University of Wollongong This thesis is presented for the Degree of Doctor of Philosophy at the University of Western Australia, Perth School of Social Sciences Political Science and International Relations UWA Africa Research & Engagement Centre (AfREC) January 2021 Supervisors Dr David Mickler BSocSc, Curtin, BAPS PhD Murd. Prof Benjamin Reilly BA (Hons), UNSW, PhD, ANU SANKOFA Go back to the past and bring forward that which is useful - An Akan (Ghana) proverb Thesis Declaration I, Seth Appiah-Mensah, certify that: • This thesis has been substantially accomplished during enrolment in the degree. • The degree does not contain material which is accepted for the award of any other degree or diploma in my name, in any other university or tertiary institution. • No part of this work will, in the future, be used in a submission in my name for any other degree in any university or other tertiary institution without the prior approval of The University of Western Australia and where applicable any partner institution responsible for the joint award of this degree. • This thesis does not contain any material previously published or written by another person, except where due reference has been made in the text. • The work(s) are not in any way a violation or an infringement of any copyright, trademark, patent, or other rights whatsoever of any person. • The research involving human data reported in this thesis was assessed and approved by the University of Western Australia human Research Ethics Committee. Approval #: RA/4/20/4785. • The thesis does not contain work I have published nor work under review for publication. Signature: Date: 14 July 2021 i Abstract This thesis develops and deploys a reconceptualised Pan-African security partnership to interrogate African security governance with a view to critiquing and providing an alternative basis for African strategic culture. Drawing on relevant scholarly work, presenting original empirical data and using case studies of crisis responses in Mali and the Central African Republic (CAR), this thesis demonstrates how the lack of appropriate theory, models and (absence of) Africanness have contributed to failures in protecting African people from large-scale political violence on the continent. Despite the creation of an elaborate and interventionist African Peace and Security Architecture (APSA) over the past two decades, collective responses by African governments and regional organisations to any “grave circumstances, namely: war crimes, genocide and crimes against humanity” (Constitutive Act of the African Union, Article 4)’ remain inconsistent, ineffective or otherwise limited. The result is both unnecessary human suffering and the failure to strengthen regional partnerships and governance between the African Union (AU), Regional Economic Communities (RECs) and other regional mechanisms. This thesis argues that the inadequacy of the current model and limited effectiveness of contemporary African security governance is fundamentally because Africa’s strategic culture is insufficiently a product of the contexts, ideas and needs of the African continent, including the lenses through which African security dynamics are understood. Given the disproportionate exogenous effect on the dysfunction of African security governance, this thesis argues that Africa’s strategic culture should instead be underpinned by the African philosophy of Nnoboa (from Ghana, an Akan concept of mutual-aid). As a communal framework, Nnoboa emphasises the importance of African contexts, cultures and values to political life. In doing so, this study presents an alternative model for African strategic theory, culture and practice drawing on indigenous (Nnoboa) principles. ii Acknowledgments I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me – Philippians 4:13. First and foremost, all praise goes to the Lord Almighty, whose enabling grace and mercies have brought me this far in my academic journey. Effort of this size cannot be a solitary endeavour. I sincerely thank my coordinating supervisor, Dr David Mickler, whose persisting interest and prodding since we met in 2012 culminated in my enrolment at the University of Western Australia in 2017. His dedication and commitment to see the project through despite the challenges of Covid-19 in 2020 are the hallmarks of excellent supervision. I thank Dr. Mickler for believing in me and sustaining my academic interest. Secondly, I would like to thank Professor Benjamin Reilly who willingly stepped in as my co-supervisor. Professor Reilly brought intense academic scrutiny and rigour to my work, always inquiring if I was carrying my readers along. The tough love paid off. Thank you to Dr Tanya Lyons for providing editorial assistance on my final draft. Again, thank you to Dr Mickler in his capacity as the Director of Africa Research Centre (AfREC) and its entire cohort of Fellows and Postgraduate Fellows for the opportunities to showcase my work and related subjects at seminars, conferences and through publications. This undoubtedly challenged me intellectually and improved the quality of my work. I also want to thank Dr Dominic Dagbanja, Associate Director of AfREC, for his brotherly ‘friendship,’ comradeship and intellectual support. My PhD colleagues across disciplines provided the necessary comradeship, support, and friendship. My immense gratitude to Tinashe Jakwa, Dr Muhammad Dan Suleiman, Dr Charmaine Lim, Isaac Owusu Frimpong, Isaac Mensah, Flavia Zimmermann, Raisa Akifeva, Sheryl Makara, Amal Aqeeli, Omima Osman Mohammed Osman, Elis Anis, Yawen Xu and Erin Linn for creating conducive intellectual and social space for me to test my hypotheses and socialise. Special thanks go to Isaac Owusu Frimpong for his willingness to review all my iii drafts, pay attention to details, as well as availing himself as a reliable intellectual sounding board. This research was supported by an Australian Government Research Training Program (RTP) Scholarship, for which I am very grateful. I would also thank the hardworking staff of the Graduate Research School for being supportive throughout my candidature. Their regular updates on the financial and research-related support were particularly helpful. Special thanks also go to Steven Maras, Laura Dales and Maïa Ponsonnet for their support as Graduate Research Coordinators during my candidature. Special thanks go to my wife, Mary, and sons, Benjamin, Samuel, Daniel and Emmanuel, for sacrificing so much to support my academic journey. Without your unconditional love and support, there is no way I could have tamed the tyranny of distance and the workload of the PhD program. I love you all. Immense gratitude also goes to my 90-yearold mom and siblings for being my cheerleaders. Finally, to the continent whose resilience and continuous struggle cause us to always dream for better days, I say a luta continua. By not failing to dream, we hope against hope that one day these dreams would birth a continent that is no longer identified with conflicts, squalor and poverty, but one that is at peace with itself and proudly shares the world’s stage with both the least and the greatest, all prospering together. iv Table of Contents Thesis Declaration i Abstract ii Acknowledgments iii List of Figures and Tables ix List of Abbreviations and Acronyms x INTRODUCTION 1 a. Background 1 b. Research Problem, Purpose and Questions 4 c. 7 Theoretical Framework and Concepts c.1 Pan-African Security Partnership 7 c.2 African Security Regime Complex 10 c.3 The Terrain of Struggle 11 c.4 Strategic Culture 12 d. Key Concepts 18 d.1 Pan-Africanism 18 d.2 African Philosophy 20 e. Methodology and Data Collection 22 f. Chapter Overview 26 CHAPTER 1: Theories of African Security Regionalisms: An Epochal Approach 33 1.1. Introduction 33 1.2. Regionalisation 34 1.3. Regionalisation in Africa 43 1.4 Theorising Africa’s Regionalisms 47 1.4.1. Pro-region or Primitive regional complex 48 1.4.2. Religious regional complex 51 1.4.3. Slave economy regional complex 56 1.4.4. Imperial and colonial regional complex 58 1.4.5. Pan-Africanism regional complex 62 1.4.6. The Sahara (Ecological) regional complex 64 1.4.7. History matters in theory 67 v 1.5 CONCLUSION 69 Chapter 2: The Complexity of African Regional Governance 72 2.1. Introduction 72 2.2. What is regional security governance? 73 2.3. The African Peace and Security Architecture (APSA) 76 2.3.1. Peace and Security Council 77 2.3.2. Continental Early Warning Systems (CEWS) 83 2.3.3. African Standby Force (ASF) 84 2.3.4. The Regional Economic Communities and Regional Mechanisms (RECs/RMs) 87 2.3.5. Emerging Regional Security Coalitions 2.3.6. APSA and external partners 98 101 2.4. Where To? 106 2.5. Conclusion 107 Chapter 3: Case Study 1 - The Response to Mali (2012-2014) 109 3.1. Introduction 109 3.2. Context of the Mali crisis 111 3.3. Global geostrategic sphere of influence 114 3.3.1. Security Council mulls the deployment of a pan-African force to Mali 114 3.3.2. France as a wedge in Pan-African partnership 119 3.3.3. Key partners roll up their sleeves 121 3.4. Continental sphere of influence 122 3.4.1. Working towards Strategic Coherence 122 3.4.2. The duality of legal regimes 124 3.4.3. Slipping into Strategic dissonance 126 3.4.4. African Union enhances capacity 132 3.4.5. Voice of the Malian People 134 Operational sphere of influence 135 3.5. 3.5.1. 3.6. ECOWAS initiates planning for peace enforcement Conclusion 135 140 Chapter 4: Case Study 2 - Response to the Central African Republic (2013-14) 143 4.1. Introduction 143 4.2. Context to the CAR crisis 145 vi 4.2.1. Historical background 145 4.2.2. Contextualising Africa’s year of shame and capitulation 147 4.3. Global geostrategic sphere of influence 149 4.3.1. Security Council mulls over the CAR crisis 149 4.3.2. Security Council decides on MISCA 151 4.3.3. Security Council decides on MINUSCA 153 4.3.4. United Nations Security Council Resolution 2149: the game changer 156 4.3.5. France - the reluctant interventionist? 159 4.4. Continental sphere of influence 161 4.4.1. Towards strategic convergence 161 4.4.2. High Politics in ECCAS 162 4.4.3. Towards strategic dissonance 164 4.5. Operational sphere of influence 168 4.5.1. A tale of two transitions, one country 168 4.5.2. 2013 - Transition from MICOPAX to MISCA 169 4.5.3. 2014 - Transfer of authority from MISCA to MINUSCA 170 4.6. Conclusion 174 Chapter 5: Diagnosis of Pan-African Security Partnership 177 5.1. Introduction 177 5.2. Deconstructing the Pan-African security partnership conundrum 179 5.2.1. Lack of adequate theory 179 5.2.2. Complexity of African security governance 182 5.2.3. A selective approach to African security crises and African-led responses 184 5.2.4. France – Africa’s great power 191 5.2.5. African High Politics 193 5.2.6. Voice of the people 196 5.2.7. Bureaucratic Agency 198 5.2.8. Demise of subsidiarity 199 5.3. Conclusion 201 Chapter 6: Towards a Nnoboa Conceptual Framework for Pan-African Strategic Culture 203 6.1. Introduction 203 6.2. In search of an African strategic culture 204 vii 6.3. Nnoboa – an African philosophy for strategic culture? 209 6.4. Typology of Nnoboa: a new conceptual framework 213 6.4.1. Kokrokoo (rooster’s crow) sphere 214 6.4.2. Zabuwa (guinea fowl) sphere 217 6.4.3. Tai (eagle) sphere 218 6.4.4. Strategic and theoretical significance 219 6.5. Towards a Pan-African Strategic Culture 6.5.1. African identity 223 6.5.2. African Values 229 6.5.3. Norms 233 6.5.4. Perceptive Lens 242 6.6. Conclusion 249 CONCLUSION a. 253 Summary 253 b. Contribution to theory and policy c. 223 258 b.1 Pan-African security partnership 258 b.2 Epoch-scapes 260 b.3 Nnoboa typology and strategic culture 262 Limitations, challenges and future directions for research 267 Bibliography 271 Appendix: List of Interviewees. 303 viii List of Figures and Tables Figure 1. 1 African Settlements Influenced by Christianity and Islam, 3rd -14th Century ...... 54 Figure 1. 2 Active Militant Groups and Areas of Influence, 2010-2018 .................................. 55 Figure 1. 3 Epoch-scapes regionalism complex ....................................................................... 68 Figure 2.1 The eight RECs: composition and overlapping membership .................................. 82 Figure 2.2 Map showing AU, RECs and RMs in Africa. ............................................................. 89 Figure 3. 1 Map of Mali, showing area claimed by the State of Azawad. ............................. 113 Figure 4. 1 Map of Central African Republic .......................................................................... 146 Figure 5. 1 Timelines of UN Security Council’s responses to African crises .......................... 186 Figure 6. 1 Tree of Strategic Culture ...................................................................................... 208 Table 6. 1 Nnoboa spheres of security governance .............................................................. 216 Figure 6. 2 A Typical Nnoboa Sphere transaction during a crisis .......................................... 222 Figure 6. 3 Nea Onnim - He who does not know can learn ................................................... 227 Figure 6. 4 Wawa aba - seed of the wawa tree ..................................................................... 229 Figure 6. 5 menso wo kƐntƐn – I am not carrying your basket ............................................. 232 Figure 6. 6 boa me na memboa wo - help me and let me help you ...................................... 236 Figure 6.7 A comparison between a Trilogy of decision centres and Nnoboa decision centres ................................................................................................................................................ 239 Figure 6. 8 Tikoro nko agyina - one person cannot constitute a council ............................... 240 Figure 6. 9 NteaseƐ - understanding and cooperation .......................................................... 242 Figure 6. 10 Good farmer ....................................................................................................... 248 Figure 6. 11 Fawohodie.......................................................................................................... 249 Table 6. 2 A typical Nnoboa strategic culture with symbols ................................................. 250 ix List of Abbreviations and Acronyms ACIRC African Capacity for Immediate Response to Crisis ACOTA African Contingency Operations Training and Assistance ADLF Alliance for the Democratic Forces for the Liberation of Congo AFISM-CAR (or MISCA) African-led International Support Mission in the Central African Republic AFISMA African-led International Support Mission in Mali AMISOM African Union Mission in Somalia AMU Arab Maghreb Union AMIB African Union Mission in Burundi APSA African Peace and Security Architecture APF African Peace Facility ASF African Standby Force AQIM al-Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb AUPSC African Union Peace and Security Council AU PSOD African Union Peace Support Operations Division AUPSC African Union Peace and Security Council BINUCA United Nations Integrated Peacebuilding Office in the Central African Republic CAAU Constitutive Act of the African Union CAR WG CAR Deployment Working Group CAR Central African Republic CEN-SAD Community of Sahel-Saharan States CET Community Emancipation Theory CEWARN IGAD Early Warning and Response CFA Colonies Françaises d’Afrique – French Colonies in Africa COE Contingent Owned Equipment COMESA Common Market for Eastern and Southern Africa COMWARN COMESA Early Warning System COPAX Central Africa Peace and Security Council CoR Committee of Regions CNRDRE Comité National de Redressement pour la Démocratie et la Restauration de l’Etat – National Committee for Democracy and restoration of the State x DRC Democratic Republic of Congo DPKO Department of Peacekeeping Operations EAC East African Community EACWARN East Africa Early Warning System EASF Eastern African Standby Force ECCAS Economic Community of Central African States ECOWAS Economic Community of West African States ECOMOG ECOWAS Ceasefire Monitoring Group EUFOR RCA European Union Force in the Central African Republic EUMAM RCA European Military Advisory Mission in the Central African Republic FACA The National Army of the Central African Republic FOMAC ECCAS Multi-National Standby Force G5 Sahel Force Conjointe du G5 Sahel G8 Group of eight members of the ICG-CAR ICG-CAR International Contact Group on the Central African Republic IGAD Inter-Governmental Authority on Development IMA The Signed-in-Blood Battalion and the Islamic Movement for Azawad IO International Organisation IOF International Organisation of la Francophonie JOC Joint Operations Centre LCBC Lake Chad Basin Countries LPA Lagos Plan of Action MARAC Central Africa Early Warning Mechanism MICOPAX Mission for the Consolidation of Peace in the Central African Republic MINUSCA United Nations Integrated Stabilisation Mission in the Central African Republic MISCA (or AFISM-CAR) African-led International Support Mission in the Central African Republic MNJTF Multi-National Joint Task Force MOME Making Peace Operations More Effective MST MISCA Support Team MUJAO Movement for Unity and Jihad in West Africa NARC North African Readiness Capability NATO North Atlantic Treaty Organisation NEWCs SADC National Early Warning Centres xi OP Operational Paragraph of Security Council resolution P-3 Permanent members of the UNSC - US, UK and France PAE Pacific Architectural Engineering POC Protection of Civilians PREACT Partnership for Regional East Africa Counterterrorism PSC Peace and Security Council RECAMP Reinforcement of African Peacekeeping Countries REC Regional Economic Communities RM Regional Mechanisms SADC Southern African Development Corporation SRCC Special Representative of the Chairperson of the African Union T/PCC Troop/Police Contributing Countries TAM Technical Assessment Mission TOA Transfer of Authority TSCTP Trans-Sahara Counterterrorism Partnership UFDR Union of Democratic Forces for the Rally / Union des forces démocratiques pour le rassemblement – UNAMID UN-AU Hybrid Mission in Darfur UNESCO United Nations Education, Scientific and Cultural Organisation UNOAU United Nations Office to the African Union xii INTRODUCTION Sankofa (go back to the past and bring forward that which is useful) Akan proverb We can imagine intellectualism without pan-Africanism, but we cannot imagine panAfricanism without the intellectualization of the African condition – Ali Mazrui (2005, p. 56) a. Background A transformation has been taking place in the African security landscape over the last two decades. The seismic shift from the Organisation of African Unity’s (OAU) policy of noninterference to the African Union’s (AU) non-indifference, has been a game-changer. Subsequently, a space has been opened for a more proactive and agential African response to the continent’s peace and security crises. Nonetheless, occupying the front seat does not necessarily transform one into a good driver, and this has been the odyssey of the AU and the Regional Economic Communities (RECs)1 and the Regional Mechanisms (RMs)2. Given that safe driving is synonymous with good driving, these significant changes have attracted inquiries about who makes decisions shaping Africa’s intervention practice, and on what basis. Answers to these pertinent questions contribute to understanding the continent’s strategic culture. Yet, there has been scant scholarly attention specific subject. At its core, this thesis interrogates the strategic culture of the African Union (AU), including its interventionist normative framework, the Constitutive Act of the African Union (CAAU). Strategic culture is often linked to a set of beliefs, assumptions, attitudes, norms, 1 The RECs include the Arab Maghreb Union (AMU), the Community of Sahel-Saharan States (CEN-SAD), the Common Market for Eastern and Southern Africa (COMESA), the East African Community (EAC), the Economic Community of Central African States (ECCAS), the Economic Community of West Africa States (ECOWAS), the Intergovernmental Authority on Development (IGAD) and the Southern African Development Community (SADC). 2 The two RMs are Eastern Africa Standby Brigade Coordination Mechanism (EASF) and the North African Regional Capability (NARC), 1 world views and behaviours that influence the preferences for decision-makers in a state or security community. Article 4(h) of the CAAU provides for the AU to intervene in a member state in the event of “grave circumstances, namely genocide, war crimes and crimes against humanity”. This marked a significant strategic shift in Africa’s intervention ethos. Operationalised some two decades ago, the African Peace and Security Architecture (APSA), provides the AU with the institutions and tools to implement this mandate. Yet, existing scholarly works show unnecessary human suffering and failures have resulted from African security governance. Scholars and policy makers have concluded, inter alia, that the lack of clarity on the principle of subsidiarity and poor coordination at the institutional level are responsible for ineffective partnerships in Africa (African Union, 2015a; Makinda et al., 2015; Williams, 2016). Consequently, flawed partnerships lead to delayed or inadequate Pan-African responses. In his report to the United Nations Security Council on the lessons learned from the peacekeeping transitions in Mali in 2012 and the Central African Republic (CAR) in 2013, respectively, the United Nations Secretary-General observed that when: The Security Council requested the Secretariat to deploy military and security planners to assist ECOWAS [Economic Community of West African States] and the African Union in planning for AFISMA…those efforts were hampered in part by the fact that, at that time, both ECOWAS and the African Union had started to develop distinct concepts of operations...In that context, the issue of subsidiarity between the African Union and its subregional organisations needs to be addressed with renewed vigour, within the framework of the African Peace and Security Architecture (United Nations Secretary-General, 2015, 5 January). 2 Beyond the Mali case study, subsidiarity has aroused tensions between AU and the RECs with significant consequences. Classic examples include arguments over the crises in the CAR in 2013-15, Côte d’Ivoire in 2010-11, Darfur in 2009-11, Libya in 2011, GuineaBissau in 2012, Madagascar in 2009-10, and Mali in 2012-13 (Nathan, 2016). Subsidiarity is understood to mean the apportionment of competences between levels of governance such that the higher level does not interfere in the lower level’s’ areas of competence until it is deemed necessary or requested (Møller, 2005). Meanwhile, even as subsidiarity is blamed for ineffective Pan-African responses to crises, this thesis argues that it is but one of the many causal factors. In fact, the literature identifies variable factors that underpin international relationships and security cooperation, such as the absence of indigenous approaches, overdependence on the international community, high politics, external interference, identity, values, culture, and norm-making (Glenn, 2009; Gray, 1999; Johnson, 2006; Williams, 2016). These variables, to varying degrees, shape security partnerships, a concept that is underresearched in Africa security studies. The Peace and Security Council (PSC) Protocol (Articles 4, 7 12, 16, 17, 20 and 21) envisages several relationships, cooperation mechanisms and closer collaboration with RMs, member states and civil society organisations, and these should altogether constitute the new partnership framework for peace and security. At the regional level, security partnership is defined as an international security cooperation between states with the aim of reducing conflicts in order to promote peace, stability and economic development in the region (Attina, 2006). However, contextualizing it within African security governance, this thesis expands the concept to encompass entanglements of member states, RECs/RMs, the AU and their partners. Thus, African security partnerships involve a complex web of collaborative relationships among continental and global actors in pursuit of peace, security, stability and development in Africa. The factors underpinning these relationships will be critical to understanding African security culture. To understand the strategic orientations 3 and behaviours of the AU, theRECs/RMs and their partners, this thesis deploys the concept of a Pan-African security partnership as a collective and holistic term, encompassing aforementioned relationships and partnerships variables. The thesis therefore postulates that PanAfrican security partnerships properly analysed and understood will lead to the development of a better African strategic culture. b. Research Problem, Purpose and Questions Despite the creation of an elaborate and interventionist APSA over the past two decades, collective responses by African governments and regional organisations to ‘grave circumstances’ - large-scale political violence against civilians - remain inconsistent, ineffective or otherwise limited. The result has been both unnecessary human suffering and the failure to strengthen regional partnerships and governance between the AU and the RECs/RMs. Existing studies have variously argued that this divergence between the objectives and institutions established for responding to such crises and the relative failures of political and operational practice on the continent can be explained by (i) a lack of indigenous material resources and consequent external dependency; (ii) ongoing interference in Africa’s security dynamics by powerful external interests and forces, resulting in coercion and inadequate local ownership; (iii) a lack of clear articulation and/or relevance of core regional security governance principles, such as subsidiarity; and (iv) corrosive political and institutional competition within African regional relations, facilitated by poor leadership (Makinda et al, 2015; Williams, 2016). To contextualise this study, let us consider the following three claims: (i) the failure of the international system to act swiftly is blamed for the 1994 Rwandan genocide; (ii) the adoption of the Constitutive Act of the African Union (AU) in 2000 (hailed as a Pan-African achievement) meant the AU could proactively prevent another ‘grave circumstance’ occurring 4 in Africa, and (iii) the AU is consistently hamstrung by the same international system (UN Security Council’s authorisation and international resources) as well as a lack of cohesion within Africa in its efforts to prevent that ‘grave situation’. If we take these claims to be true, then the underlining Pan-African consciousness largely driven by what Nkrumah defined as the ‘African personality’3 (to be discussed further below) and the associated institutions are flawed, chiefly because the current crop of African authorities lack the leadership to champion Pan-African agendas. Leadership and decision-making are at the heart of strategic culture. Against the backdrop of this complexity, the central research question that this thesis addresses is: To what extent, and in what ways, could an African strategic culture underpinned by the concept of Nnoboa improve African-led responses to grave circumstances? Nnoboa is a self-help/mutual aid concept that the Akan people, a meta-ethnicity living in the southern regions of present-day Ghana and Ivory Coast in West Africa, with over 20 million members, constituting one of the biggest ethnic groups in West Africa. The Akan have a rich history and speak Kwa languages which are part of the larger Niger-Congo family have used for centuries to support one another in farming communities (Appiahgyei-Atua, 2000). Given that after more than a decade and a half since APSA was adopted, the results have been mixed (Makinda et al., 2015), it is now timely and critical to interrogate the strategic culture in this active security community. Therefore, to answer this central question on the utility of Nnoboa, the thesis addresses the following sub-questions: 3 The innate feeling of pan-Africanism that propels one to stand up for African values and character. 5 (i) How have existing theories and models of regional governance contributed to inadequate responses? (ii) How have the existing structures and principles of APSA contributed to inadequate responses? (iii) What empirical evidence is there in the recent practice for this inadequacy in responses? (iv) What elements can we take from African ideas and philosophies to structure an alternative means of responding? This then raises the question of whether African security dynamics are situated in a discernible strategic culture. As Colin Gray (1999) notes, strategic culture is a useful tool for understanding the emotional and attitudinal environment within the security community. However, some scholars disagree. As Johnston (1995, p. 64) puts it, “within the literature there are very different conclusions about the explanatory power of strategic culture, with some work hewing to an extreme determinism, while others implying that strategic culture will not have much effect on behavior at all.” Africa’s strategic culture is shaped by its experiences of slavery, colonialism, the Cold War, foreign trade, conflicts, values and external relations. That means while the continent may be independent, it is still be trapped in a mindset of ‘neo-colonialism.’ This thesis agrees that the “historical [and contemporary] struggle of African peoples has heretofore been analysed within a Eurocentric, dysfunctional, ahistorical, and divisive context” (Nantambu, 1998, p. 561). Furthermore, if Africans continue to think through foreign concepts, ideas and languages, there is a risk of ‘involuntary mental de-Africanisation’ (Wiredu, 1997, p. 2). Clearly, the literature is ill-equipped to explain African security issues. Responding to failures of existing theories, models, and structures of security governance to provide adequate explanation and responses, this thesis explores security governance through the vantage point of Nnoboa. 6 Indeed, the current model and operation of African security governance is inadequate for providing effective responses to ‘grave circumstances.’ By linking the dynamic Nnoboa concept with security and strategic theories, this thesis offers an alternative and novel approach to understanding African strategic culture. c. Theoretical Framework and Concepts The strong philosophical interrogation of this study makes it impossible for the thesis to be framed solely through a traditional International Relations (IR), Political Science or Security Studies perspectives. The thesis, therefore, adopts a broad, eclectic approach to facilitate other disciplinary appeals to the central argument. The thesis begins by questioning the theoretical underpinnings of the African security landscape. The main conceptual framework is the Pan-African security partnership. c.1 Pan-African Security Partnership McQuaid (2000, p. 3) defines partnership as a term that “covers greatly differing concepts and practices and is used to describe a wide variety of types of relationships in a myriad of circumstances and locations.” Arguably, partnership brings mutual benefits to individual partners because conceptually it opens the door to human, material, and capital resources. It is premised on the fact that the whole is greater than the sum of the individual parts (McQuaid, 2000). However, there is no one-size fit all solution to partnerships. A regional security partnership involves the interaction and integration of geographical groups of countries with like-minded values, traditions and cultures in order to reduce conflicts and promote peace, security and stability in the region through a concerted system (Attina, 2006). It is typical to establish a regional security partnership around countries that share the same values, interests, 7 cultures and traditions, but overtime, it also proved its utility in regions that are not homogenous, such as in the Mediterranean and Middle East. Regional security partnerships would normally include external powers, such as the United States of America or global institutions, such as the United Nations. Attina (2006, p. 4) argues that a regional security partnership “stands between the extremes of un-structured regional relations and security community-structured relations.” It also provides voices for the members of the security community for norm diffusion with mechanisms for framing and pruning norms (Dembinski & Schott, 2014). Attina develops a model that is useful for scholarly work but may be too cumbersome for this study. One of the fundamental flaws of the model is that it assumes that governments will co-manage “security problems when (a) the countries of the region are aware of reciprocal interdependence and common dependence on transnational problems, and (b) international relations in the region are not polarized by great power competition” (Attina, 2005, p. 5). Thus, the model further assumes that governments contribute to the emergence of a security community. However, as Dyekman (2007) argues, the subjective nature of security partnerships make it hard to measure effectiveness, meaning the outcome is neither predictable or necessarily positive. Therefore, a security partnership does not have any deterministic outcomes per se. As Attina (2005) himself quickly acknowledged, the current state of play in relation to security cooperation in regions of concern is that they have failed to achieve any optimistic outcomes. Others simply refer to a security partnership as a Regional Security Arrangement (RSA) in line with Article 52 of Chapter VIII of the UN Charter (United Nations, 1945; Dembinski and Schott, 2014). In this regard, Dembinski and Schott (2014) call RSAs the gatekeepers which help to create security cultures, which some argue can overestimate their influence on acculturation in a region (Hyde-Price as cited in Dembinski & Schott, 2014). Nonetheless, security cultures are useful prisms through which norms and behaviours of actors in a security 8 complex are understood. Of significance, Dembinski and Schott (2014) argue that contestation over norms is acute during crises, which has been the African experience (Makinda et al., 2015; Williams, 2016). The concept of RSAs is particularly useful as partnerships within APSA only finds meaning in a cooperative security regime. Taken together, a security partnership is a lens to understanding security culture. To take this leap forward, it may be important to expand the scope of security cooperation to include other endogenous and exogenous relationships that imbue negative cathexis in order to develop a collective and holistic view of the concept. A Pan-African security partnership will, therefore, entail cooperation, arrangements, interactions and entanglements between the members of the Pan-African institutions, on the one hand, and those between them and external actors, on the other hand, with a view to promoting African security governance. As mentioned earlier, variable factors from the literature underpin security partnerships in Africa, providing useful empirical elements for analysis. Yet, in Pan-African security cooperation, there is a broader appeal for subsidiarity to define these relationships. A PanAfrican security partnership can be interpreted through multiple security factors such as legitimacy, African Personality, imperialist consciousness4, the influence of France over its former colonies (la françafrique5), amity and enmity, penetration and overlay, resource scarcity, high politics, bureaucratic will, and subsidiarity (United Nations, 1945; Nkrumah, 1963; Buzan, 2003, Brosig, 2013; Møller, 2006; Williams, 2016). All of these factors are equally important and influential. Of course, some of them, such as la françafrique, do not meet the very definition of partnership, but their impact on Pan-African security in the last two decades is very significant. It is for this reason that a collective concept is needed for 4 Imperialist consciousness refers to a culture of political actions taken by the P-3 to change, influence and manipulate events in Africa, even including when to intervene to save lives in grave circumstances - . 5 France’s special relationship with the metropolis, through designated French advisers who treated Francophone West Africa as their backyard, often associated with France’s heavy-handed control and influence in the affairs of former French colonies. 9 intellectual consistency and rigour. While this list is not exhaustive, these are the key ones relevant to African security cooperation. Dyekman (2007) found challenges at both domestic and international levels, including fiscal constraints, multiple conflicting policy and legislation. This thesis argues that these constraints should also be considered as variable factors of a security partnership, because of their influence on strategic behaviours and choices of actors. Furthermore, there is a teleological link between a security partnership and ownership within the realm of APSA, and thus how that shapes any AU-RECs/RMs response to any such ‘grave circumstances.’ This thesis therefore deploys a Pan-African security partnership as the main ‘collective’ theoretical framework to investigate the case studies presented below in Chapters 3 and 4. c.2 African Security Regime Complex Analysing African peacekeeping, Brosig (2013, 2015) uses regime complex theory to explain Africa’s security phenomenon. He argues that the African Security Regime Complex (ASRC) underpinned by resource scarcity pulls together various actors such as the United Nations, EU, AU, RECs, US, France and other external partners in an emerging regime complex (Brosig, 2013). He notes that “resource exchange is a reciprocal process emerging around a demand and supply model” (Brosig, 2015, p. 245), and actors are driven by resource scarcity to converge. The point of convergence then becomes the centre of analysis of the African Security Regime Complex, which seeks to explore how different security regimes are interconnected in post-Westphalian systems (Brosig, 2015). He describes the ASRC as “decentered, with multiple overlaps in membership and policy, raising concerns over operative and normative interaction between elemental actors” (Brosig, 2013, p. 173). The logic of regime complexity is that African security needs exceed the capacity of any single actor, prompting the necessity of cooperation. However, these relationships are by no means linear 10 or deterministic; at best they are complex, decentred and overlapping, making it less likely that they will have uniform decision-making centres. Of significance, Brosig (2015) identified six conditions (size of demand and supply of resources, resource scarcity, equitable resource exchange, compatible doctrines capabilities, autonomy losses and initiative of lead states) for exploring cooperative peacekeeping in Africa. However, as powerful as the concept of resource scarcity is to the theory of cooperative peacekeeping, he acknowledges that it does not explain how different forms of cooperation or non-cooperation occur (Brosig, 2015). A challenge emerging from this theory is how to effectively explain the myriad of entanglements and interactions in diverse regionalisms in a comprehensive manner. This is where Pan-African security partnership becomes a useful concept as it draws on many variables that are contextual to each situation. Nevertheless, the ASRC provides a useful framework to glimpse the strategic behaviour of actors in the African security landscape. c.3 The Terrain of Struggle Describing the ‘terrain of struggle’ of Africa’s wars, Paul Williams (2016) observes that state-centric lenses are not suited for a continent where conflicts actively take place at the peripheries, often without the involvement of the national security forces. Taking a critical look at Africa’s wars, where the actors, structures and processes are varied and uneven, he developed the concept of warscapes as spatial levels where intense interactions and intra-level ‘bleeding’ is actively taking place. Here, this thesis has added the socio-cultural context to this concept to provide an historical interpretation, and thus refers to ‘epoch-scapes’ in the subsequent analysis. The attraction of the term warscapes is that it rejects the rigidity associated with IR’s distinct spatial levels of analysis and introduces a fluid system where one level bleeds into the other (Williams, 2016). Williams (2016) identifies four levels of warscapes from which analysis of the terrain 11 of struggle can proceed: local, national, regional and global. With the concept of local warscapes one can reject the ‘mono-causal explanations’ of the continent’s conflicts. This level of analysis situates its locus at the place where the interrelationship between the individuals and their immediate (socio-cultural) politico-geographic context are influencing their levels and potentially shaping, as well being shaped by their immediate levels. More work is needed to ascertain the degree to which each level is important in each situation. Meanwhile, this study suggests that in local warscapes, one can locate the origins of African philosophy, rooted in history with the potential to contribute to the growth of theory. For as Williams acknowledges “it would be useful if more historically grounded studies would try and clarify which levels are doing most explanatory work and how they interrelate” (Williams, 2016, p. 51). c.4 Strategic Culture In order to explain the behaviours, culture, ideas, and norms of states and institutions that shape decision-making, this thesis turns to strategic culture which provides the analytical tools to forecast problems and improve performance in international relations (Johnson, 2006). As originally conceived by Jack Snyder in 1977 strategic culture is narrowly confined to the ‘national security apparatus’ of nuclear rivals (Katzenstein, 1996; Snyder, 1977, p. 8) and remained the preserve of states for a long time until the post-Cold War era gave rise to intense academic inquiry. According to Kopeć (2016, p. 136) “strategic culture is an intangible environment (the concept of space), which narrows our choices in the sphere of behaviour.” More broadly, Colin Gray (1999, p. 51) defines strategic culture as “persisting (though not eternal) socially transmitted ideas, attitudes, traditions, habits of mind, and preferred methods of operation that are more or less specific to a particularly geographically based security community that has had a necessarily unique historical experience.” Indeed, continuity in history is critical and helpful to understand the nuance and complexity of the ‘width, depth and 12 context’ of strategic culture (Strachan, 2019). Thus, strategic culture is contextual, and is, in fact, a general approach to international politics rather than a single theory (Gray, 1999; Glenn, 2009). Gray (1999) also argues that strategic culture is underscored by the responsible behaviour of states. The behaviour of the state, region and institution is assessed with reference to rational behaviour. Decisions shaped by beliefs, norms, ideas, world-views and patterns of behaviour held by decision-makers and the elites or ‘keepers of strategy’ (Frank, 2017) are categorised as type of rationality. Realists, neo-realists and neoliberals argue that state actors, and for that matter, institutions, will act rationally because interest formation and preference-making are externally induced and decided before any social interactions (Johnson, 2006; Glenn, 2009). The neo-realist paradigm assumes states want to optimize power, capabilities and resources to the extent possible (Johnston, 1995), however, by the end of the Cold War, it became apparent that the concept only provided a narrow scope for explaining concepts in IR and security studies (Frank, 2017). The importance of cultural differences brought into a sharp focus “the effects of historically substantial periods and their effects on modern decisions” (Frank, 2017, p. 25). Gray reinforces this point when he argues that there is inherent logic in the concept that culture underpins decision-making (Gray, 2009). Constructivists, therefore, argue that the interests of members of a security community are formed as a result of understanding the international system as a whole, including its history (Glenn, 2009). Nonetheless, others view strategic culture as complementary to realism, neo-realism and constructivist theory (Johnson, 2006). In all cases, Johnson (2006, p. 3) argues that the actors’ preference is a ‘complex and messy’ business, defying a defined “set of assumptions or codified theoretical construct.” Importantly, rational behaviour is culturally dependent (Johnson, 2006). To this end, the domestic cultural context remains central to understanding how decision 13 makers are influenced by cultural, ideational and normative imperatives (Glenn, 2009). Indeed, Johnston (1995) notes that strategic culture is: an ideational milieu which limits behaviour choices. While there is scholarly consensus to include culture as a variable of strategic culture, analysis is only useful when the scope is manageable (Frank, 2017). To start with, Johntson (1995, p. 37) argues that there are three levels of inputs to strategic culture; (1) a macro-environmental level consisting of geographical, ethno-cultural characteristics and history; (2) a societal level consisting of social, economic and political structures of the society; and (3) a micro-level consisting of military institutions and characteristics of civil-military relations. To this, Johnson (2006) adds that general factors such as geography, shared narratives, threat perception, ideology, religion and economics, access to technology, leadership and type of government and many more could be included. For these inputs to be strategically useful they have to generate value-laden variables such as religion, ethnicity, identity, geographic propinquity, perceptive lens, norms, subsidiarity, values, PanAfricanism, African philosophy and solidarity. While the rubric for such variables is vast, “it is imperative to determine which of these variables are pertinent to the formulation of rationality with respect to security policy for a particular regime” (Johnson, 2006, p. 10). Honing down cultural variables, it is assessed that the inputs create identity, values, norms and a perceptive lens as key variables that consistently impact on security policy and are valueladen (Johnson, 2006). Identity defines the global role a nation-state or community intends to play and its likely aspirations. Values are principles, and material goods that are negotiable and which are not. Norms define which means are preferred for the attainment of goals, whereas a perceptive lens provides an understanding of the community’s character of bounded rationality operating within it (Johnson, 2006). Ultimately, what distinguishes the rational decision of one security regime from others is its value preference based on these variables. 14 Taking this further, Johnston argues that “strategic culture is compatible with notions of limited rationality (where strategic culture simplifies reality), with process rationality (where strategic culture defines ranked preferences or narrows options) and with adaptive rationality (where historical choices, analogies, metaphors, and precedents are invoked to guide choice)” (Johnston, 1995, p. 34). Limited or bounded rationality frames decision-making rationality of individuals through the information they have, the cognitive limitations of their minds, and the finite amount of time they have to make a decision (Haselton, et al 2009). Cognitive limitation can be of benefit, though, because as Haselton et al. (2009. p. 739) argue, “a few pieces of information can work as well or better than more complex decision algorithms that use all of the available information.” Process rationality takes place where ranked preferences define strategic orientation. According to March (1978, p. 592), process rationality “emphasises the extent to which decisions find their sense in attributes of the decision process, rather than in attributes of decision outcomes.” Adaptive rationality is historically imposed and based on the experiential journey of the individual or community (March, 1978; Johnston, 1995). It is invoked by analogies, historical choices, metaphors, proverbs and precedents. Even with limited capacities, individuals with adaptive rationality “contingently respond to the task environment, guaranteeing the adequation between means and ends, which is the very definition of rationality” (Leister & Chiappin, 2010, p.40). In a decision setting model, researchers observed that “the rational individual shows adaptive behaviour, i.e. has the capacity of adapting to the environment” (Leister & Chiappin, 2010, p. 31). To behave adaptively, therefore, an individual has to generate outputs to match the choice environment, a true expression of his or her rationality or intelligence. The choice environment is an environment organized on the basis of the resources available to it. Adaptive capacity is falsifiable because it can be measured, at least heuristically. As Johnston (1995) further argues we need strategic culture to be falsifiable and do what it is 15 supposed to do. To this end, strategic culture should provide “decision-makers with a uniquely ordered set of strategic choices from which we can derive predictions about behaviour, that can be observed in strategic cultural objects, and whose transmission across time can be traced” (Johnston, 1995, p. 46). It stands to reason, therefore, that strategic culture is indeed consistent with assumptions of rationality, but there is no universal rationality for states, regions and institutions to follow as each entity has its unique history, experiences and preferences. This study is under no illusion that the debate about the utility of rationality to analyse strategic culture is settled (Kahler, 1998). In fact, the very issue of whether strategic culture provides context for understanding or explanatory causality for behaviour remains unresolved (Gray, 1999). Nevertheless, the logical flow (from inputs to assumptions of rationality) and explanatory power of rationality provide a reasonable basis for this thesis to make a heuristic contribution to the strategic culture discourse. The assumptions of rationality define the decision-making moment, which this thesis thus deploys to illustrate the strategic behaviour and orientation of actors in African security governance and will be illustrated below in Chapter 6. In Africa, the assumptions of rationality relate to the continent’s orientation to violence and the strategic predisposition of African security institutions to use force (Johnston, 1995). That is the behaviours and strategic preferences of member states, RECs/RMs and the AU that lead to decisions to deploy troops belong to the realm of strategic culture. Given the increasing multi-dimensionality of Africa’s peace support operations, the AU’s strategic culture concerns how decision-makers choose to use military and non-military interventions to attain political goals. In fact, in addition to providing a security lens to a security community, strategic culture corrals data in a way that is particularly useful for IR and security studies, and more broadly security culture. Paul Williams (2007, p. 257) describes security cultures as “patterns of 16 thoughts and argumentation that establish pervasive and durable preferences by formulating concepts of role, legitimacy and efficacy of particular approaches to protecting values.” When norms are socialized and normalized in a security community certain basic beliefs, assumptions, values and ideals can be established and used to guide decision-makers. Put simply, security culture defines the shared ideas, norms and ways of thinking about certain issues as security threats (Jaye, 2008). Covering all security aspects, security culture is much broader and wider in scope while strategic culture only concerns the state’s or community’s propensity to use force. Additionally, the role of elites or bureaucrats is critical in shaping strategic culture. Lantis (cited in Frank, 2017, p. 33) calls them “keepers of strategic culture.” But the ‘keepers’ can be drawn from a broad array of backgrounds, including academics, historians, politicians, think thanks, military officers and civil society organisations. In the mainstream, there are concerns that the ‘keepers’ are resistant to change, but Lantis and others do not accept that claim as absolute (see Frank, 2017). However, where institutions are weak, the influence of the ‘keepers’ can be dominant and sometimes detrimental. Symbols (any object used by human beings to index meanings that are not inherent in, nor discernible from, the object itself) also play an important role is shaping a strategic culture (Johnson, 1995). Some theorists stress the importance of symbols to strategic culture in places such as Turkey and Israel (Kopeć, 2016; Frank, 2017). According to Johnston (1995, p. 51), symbols act as “mental aids or heuristics which make complex environments more manageable for decision-makers.” Powerful symbols create strong bonds in a security community or contribute to its ‘mental solidarity.’ According to Mufti (cited in Frank, 2017, p. 43), neorealist theory interrogating Turkish strategic culture failed to capture “the inter-relationship between norms and history that are rooted in the “historically conditioned paradigmatic beliefs, values and symbols that shape how decision-makers perceive the security and well-being of their 17 polity.” Kopeć (2016) also argues that Israeli strategic culture takes inspiration from symbols of the Jewish people from the times of the Bible, slavery in Egypt, through the Holocaust and the nineteenth-century pogroms against Jews in Eastern Europe. Thus, beliefs, cultural values, artefacts, motifs and symbols are not just philosophical elements but central to strategic behaviour of states and communities. This assertion is important if a holistic understanding of strategic culture is to be obtained. This thesis, therefore, argues that there is a central place in African strategic culture for African symbols, motifs and so on. As such, African symbols will become central to the analysis as detailed below in Chapter 6. In that regard, this thesis will assign to each strategic variable an Adinkra symbol (Owusu, 2019) of the Akan people that is as close as possible to its meaning. Adinkra symbols reflect a system of verbal and visual imagery, and the core Adinkra symbols reflect the philosophy, religious beliefs, social values, and political history of the Akan people (Willis, 1998), which helps people to visualise and vocalise totems heuristically. They also create strong bonds in the community, strengthen kinship and serve as socialising tools as they can be embossed on fabrics, T-shirts, billboards, walls, homes, offices and so on. In fact, the congruence of the population can manifest itself in voluntary display of symbols, insignia, and flags. d. Key Concepts d.1 Pan-Africanism Historically, Pan-Africanism emerged from “a complicated Atlantic triangle of influences between the New World, Europe and Africa” (Legum, 1962, p. 14). Pan-Africanism may be described by many ideas such as African Personality, Negritude, African socialism, African democracy, and African Unity (Nkrumah, 1963; Mazrui, 2014; Crutcher, 1963). However, most of the ideas, norms, traditions and values that are now considered ‘Pan-African’ 18 existed long ago independently as disparate African ideas (Crutcher, 1963). For instance, Africans believe that before colonisation “Africa was an integral being not yet perfect,” just as many other places in the world (Crutcher, 1963, p. 2). So, the fact that continental unity has preoccupied African leaders since decolonisation is not a coincidence (Nkrumah, 1963). The central theme for Pan-Africanists has always been to reverse the impact of colonialism, enslavement, and humiliation by alien peoples through neo-colonialist agendas on the continent (Crutcher, 1963). As long as any of these issues remain unresolved, Pan-Africanism remains relevant and the most potent weapon in the hands of Africa. In essence, “it carries an interpretation of African history, prescriptions as to what is to be done now, and predictions concerning Africa’s destiny” (Crutcher, 1963, p. 2). Overall, Pan-Africanism has been a force for good for the African liberation cause (Yansané, 1980), and a driver for regionalisation and regionalism in Africa (Akokpari, Ndinga-Muvumba & Murithi, 2008; Bach, 2015). However, it still raises a number conceptual problems, for example what does PanAfricanism mean, and whether it is about black nationalism or African nationalism, and why are there different interpretations of the term between Africans on the continent and those in the diaspora (especially those in North America and the Caribbean)? Or, is it as Nigeria’s first president, Nnamdi Azikiwe, asserted, a “challenge to create heaven on earth for African humanity?” (Crutcher, 1963, p. 3). In response to the multifaceted and varied interpretations, Legum (1962) provides one of the most comprehensive lists of key objectives for PanAfricanism. As summarized by Saad, these objectives include: Africa for Africans’ and independence of the whole of Africa; United States of Africa: through a series of interlinking regional federations; African renaissance of morale and culture; African regeneration of economic enterprise; African Nationalism to transcend regional and tribal 19 affiliations; Belief in democracy; Rejection of violence as a method of struggle; Solidarity of black peoples everywhere; Positive neutrality: but ‘neutral’ is nothing that affects African interests (Saad, 2018, p. 9). However, for the first president of Ghana, Kwame Nkrumah, Pan-Africanism is personified in the notion of African Personality. He introduced the concept of African Personality, through which Africans should have their agency. We refer to agency as something that is capable of producing action and effect. It can be promoted at individual, ideological and organisational levels, where individual agency is asserted as conditional factor for individual power and organizational agency is asserted as conditional factor for collective power (Poe, 2004). After convening the first meeting for free Africans in Accra, Ghana, to consider African issues in 1958, Nkrumah observed that “The African Personality was making itself known” (Nkrumah, 1963, p. 136). By acts like this, Nkrumah did not just offer a significant agential contribution to Pan-Africanism but also ‘reflected the agential flow’ of Africa (Poe, 2004, p. 19). Indeed, for Nkrumah, the full expression ‘African Personality’ was attainable through a “Union of African States” that “raise[s] the dignity of Africa and strengthens its impact on world affairs” (Nkrumah, 1963, p. 193). d.2 African Philosophy The study of the traditional African world in terms of views, ideas, and conceptions legitimate reference to African philosophy (Higgs, 2012). African philosophy is expressed through: General acts of hospitality/Ubuntu; political ideologies such as Negritude, African Socialism, among others; proverbs that attempt to shed light on 20 the universe, human beings, among others; African stories that attempt to explain the origin of life, death, among others; African rituals that attempt to explain the rights of passages such as birth, marriage, among others; African traditions such as beliefs, attitudes; and African arts such as dance, songs, among others (Gathogo, 2008, p.3). African philosophy has intrigued scholars for three main reasons; it is not written down, little is known about it, and it is not acknowledged in critical philosophical studies (Appiah, Appiah, & Agyeman-Duah, 2007; Wiredu, 2009). There has been a suppression of African thought on philosophy by the West and every attempt by African writers to illuminate African thoughts and ideas have faced daunting challenges. Gyekye (1995) argues that views such as African philosophy are yet to come or does not exists, only seeks to deny the existence of part of traditional African thought and its history. For him, the lack of written philosophy does not equate to its absence. For example, he argues elsewhere that if Egyptian philosophy is now proven to be African, then what is the farce about the lack of African philosophy? (Boahen,1985; Gyekye,1995). Therefore, the existence of African philosophy is not so much of ontological achievement as communal pride and dignity. Given the acculturation of cultures (diversity of ideas, concepts, beliefs, outlooks, dressing, practices and institutions) and values over several centuries across the continent, contemporary African philosophy will be a product of African culture and experience. Buzan and Wæver (2003) refer to this phenomenon as post-tradition. Gyekye (1995), therefore, argues that African philosophy must arise from African thought itself, relate to the culture from which it grows, and provide the possibility of a continuation of a philosophy linked to the culture. Meanwhile, the debate about what constitutes philosophy is still very much alive in the world of philosophers (Gyekye, 1987). 21 However, there is a conceptual problem when differentiating Pan-Africanism from African philosophy. The African reality is that the people have a strong attachment to their historical experiences, beliefs, customs, religion, and norms. These are often intertwined with Pan-Africanism, sometimes blurring conceptual clarity. It is not surprising, therefore that scholars such as Ali Mazrui argue that conservative political tradition is the most pervasive on the continent (Mazrui, 2014). In this thesis, African philosophy and Pan-Africanism, especially African Personality, are mutually reinforcing, with the latter energizing the former. This thesis therefore argues that Pan-Africanism is a key persuasive concept for bringing Africans together for collective action through African agency and re-conceptualisation of the way Africans view themselves (Asante, 2007). It calls for Africans to view themselves as agents of change and not spectators in their historical evolution. Among the different strands of Pan-Africanism, the concepts of solidarity (oneness) and African personality resonate well with this study as they speak to “…freedom and dignity. Dignity… [that] …majestic and magical word… is the mainspring of all…actions” (Legum, 1962, p. 15). e. Methodology and Data Collection In developing the theoretical framework for this thesis, an extensive literature review was conducted, interrogated to what extent, and how, an African strategic culture underpinned by the concept of Nnoboa could improve African-led responses to ‘grave circumstances.’ The research is based on the use of multiple sources for secondary data, including key theoretical literature, published articles, official documents of various and relevant organisations, on the topics and issues related to pan-Africanism, African philosophy, regionalism, human security, 22 cooperative security, organisational theory, Regional Security Complex Theory (RSCT), ASRC, strategic culture and general peace and security governance in Africa. Fieldwork was conducted in four countries, namely, the United States, Ethiopia, Nigeria and Gabon between January–March 2019 to question and validate the theories (and in most cases these theories were challenged). More than forty participants who had relevant personal experiences in policymaking and the implementation of the African Peace and Security Architecture (APSA) were invited to participate in the study. In most cases, their real names are used to give validity to their responses, however, in other areas names are anonymised to protect the informants. These participants included senior officials from various international organisations (IOs), academia and think tanks, and included two senior African former Heads of State (General Abdulsalami Abubakar, former Nigerian Head of State and Hailemariam Desalegn, former Ethiopian Prime Minister). The list of interviewees is attached as an Appendix to this thesis. The present research involved open-ended survey questionnaires, faceto-face interviews and focus groups of sampled participants selected from the AU and the Regional Mechanisms. Due to their intrinsic interest, the data included personal stories and quotations, where appropriate (Booth et al., 2018). The researcher conducted both surveys and semi-structured interviews and used mixed methods to record interviews, including audiorecording and note-taking (Vogt et al., 2012). Once the interviews were completed, the researcher codified the interview transcripts and analysed the data (Bryman, 2014). The research adopted a multifaceted and differentiated approach to providing a comprehensive vision of social reality. The research question is context-driven, so a qualitative approach was best suited for this study (Vogt et al., 2012). As Denzin and Lincoln (2000, p.3) note “…qualitative researchers study things in their natural settings, attempting to make sense of or to interpret, phenomena in terms of the meanings people bring to them.” Specifically, this researcher sought to understand norms, values and intersubjective decisions of actors in 23 increasingly regionalist projects, and thus deployed an interpretive approach which “proceeds in an essentially inductive manner and deliberately avoids being conditioned by the theory from the outset” (Corbetta, 2003, p. 34). Generally, the researcher used a naturalistic approach - no manipulation, stimulation, disturbance or interference of the object studied in the natural setting and demonstrated evidence by providing extracts from interviews. The researcher is a veteran UN official who has worked extensively on African Peace and Security issues over the last three decades. His combined peacekeeping experience spans from a deployment with ECOWAS’ sub-regional force, ECOWAS Ceasefire Monitoring Group (ECOMOG), in the 1990s, African Union Mission in Sudan (AMIS) in Darfur in 200405 as a military advisor to various positions in the United Nations Secretariat and field missions since 2006 as a civilian strategic planner, including advisor to the AU and the RECs on peacekeeping. The researcher has worked alongside most participants for more than a decade, therefore, the researcher was conscientious to ensure that the line between research and practice was clearly identified. Thus, any questions regarding the objectivity of the researcher immersed in conversations in familiar environments with familiar participants, can be dealt with by understanding that all qualitative research, and what the researcher sees, passes “through the filter of his own perspective, the experience of life, culture and values” (Corbetta, 2003, p. 40). There is no neutral scientific objectivity in the social sciences. In this type of research, there was a need for physical-spatial proximity to the object studied, without which there would have been little comprehension or trust. There was also a role for the subject studied. The research was perceived as interaction, giving the subject an active role, including arrangements for interviews and subsequent snowballing. All told, the research objective was consistent with the perspective of the interpretive paradigm, which was to understand the interactions of IOs and individuals and interpret their point of view as social actors. 24 Privileging personal experiences in both case studies, the researcher brought primary resources or ‘researcher’s identity memo’ to bear on the analysis (Bickman & Rog, 2008, p.228; Vogt et al., 2012). The identity memo allowed the researcher to examine his goals, experiences, assumptions, feelings, and values vis-à-vis their potential impact on the way he approached his research. As the lead UN staffer who was tasked to implement the innovative approaches to the peace transitions in Mali and CAR, he cannot “distance [himself] from the reality we seek to understand” (Peters, 2009, p. 150); hence his reflective practice in the case studies is inevitable. As some IR scholars argue “Autoethnography enables one to acquire an agentive role in the world by highlighting one’s uniqueness and voice” (Löwenheim, 2010, p. 1023). There is significant scholarly debate on the use of reflective practice as a methodology for critical IR, but nonetheless has proven useful in the current thesis. Aradau and Huysmans (2014, p. 597) have argued that “autoethnography [is perceived] as a critical intervention in IR” because it enacts the politics and social worlds. The point here is that the method the researcher used is not value-neutral. They “are not techniques of representation that simply extract information from externally given worlds while leaving the worlds they represent untouched” (Aradau and Huysmans, 2014, p. 605). Evolving IR practice shows it is becoming increasingly difficult to remove the ‘I’ from the IR when the researcher is also a practitioner (Löwenheim, 2010). Finally, this method seeks to bring out the voices of those whose job it is to contribute to, interpret and implement Security Council resolutions; the bureaucratic agency. Just as many other perspectives exist for observing a ‘statue’, a multifaceted approach helps to bring ‘completeness’ to social reality (Corbetta, 2003). A combination of the practitioner’s perspectives with the voices of others and the empirical data from the literature in the analysis ensures a much ‘truer’ representation of reality and mitigates the researcher’s bias. 25 f. Chapter Overview There will be no specific chapter on literature review as the study is discursive in nature and heavily leans on the eclecticism paradigm. Conceptually, Chapter 1 examines key theories that relate to the African security landscape, mainly focusing on African regionalism and regionalization and the Regional Security Complex (RSC). The first sub-question of the thesis is to determine how existing theories of regional governance have influenced the inadequate understanding and responses. From the combined literature, the chapter identifies the patterns of amity and enmity and the ideas of penetration and overlay (Buzan & Wæver, 2003), as well the very recent phases of regionalism in Africa (Aniche, 2020). While privileging their substantial scholarly contribution to literature, the chapter critiques their general lack of historical and cultural depth. The chapter argues that current theories view Europe as the main reference point of regionalism or the study of IR. The chapter posits that this could be misleading as new research reveals unique regional historiographies and idiosyncrasies that shape respective regions and their security dynamics (Engel, Poku & Porto, 2016; Bach, 2016). The chapter posits that the past is important for us to understand how the present came about and where the future is heading (Rodney, 1973). The limitations imposed through the ‘lack of adequate theory’ therefore cries out for explanation. Drawing on African history from the first century (a time of building communities for food production and animal rearing, metalworking), through to the introduction of Christianity and Islam, the subsequent colonisation of sub-Saharan Africa, and the rise of slavery and the slave trade, through to eventual decolonisation and independence, and the emergence of PanAfricanism, this chapter develops epochal waves or epoch-scapes, as borrowed from Williams’ (2016) war-scapes, as potential analytical tools. The purpose of Chapter 2 is to explore how existing structures and principles of APSA contribute to inadequate responses, which is the second sub-question of the thesis. That is the 26 extent to which the African region has been securitised through regionalism and regionalisation by colonialism and its legacy. The chapter argues that the African Peace and Security Architecture (APSA) has been thrust into a regional security governance created from deeply contested, overlapping and competing regionalisms and regionalisation processes. Metaphorically, APSA can be deemed to be a new wine in an old wineskin. The chapter begins with a theoretical section of regional security governance, then moves to an updated analysis of the multiplicity of security complexes and the challenges that they pose within the APSA framework. The chapter discusses how the APSA is at the crossroads in trying to manage the RECs as the building blocks for regional integration (AU, 2015). The challenging relationship between the RECs and AU is a carryover from its predecessor, the Organisation of African Unity (OAU), which also muddled through with unclear relationships with the sub-regional organisations (Makinda and Okumo, 2007). While the establishment of the AU marked a turning point in African security regionalization, because of the Constitutive Act of the AU (CAAU), the AU has struggled to respond timeously to ‘‘war crimes, genocide and crimes against humanity.’’ Against this backdrop is the increasing salience of the principle of subsidiarity in the AU’s normative and policy frameworks as the governing principle for intraAfrican partnerships. The chapter argues that the complexity of the landscape is also derived from the rudimentary nature of the institutions, political misalignment with the RECs, conceptual ambiguity, leadership deficit, perennial funding shortage, institutional weakness and lack of clarity in the principle of subsidiarity. For this reason, the AU has increasingly turned to external partners for support to launch and manage African-led operations. This is further compounded by the emergence of the ‘coalitions of the willing’ to address region-specific threats, often in close coordination with external partners. The chapter argues that AU’s reliance (or over-reliance) on external partners such as the UN, EU, US, UK and France (the 27 so-called P-3), China, and other non-traditional partners, to implement its mandate is an indictment on its claim to ownership and leadership in Africa. Chapters 3 and 4 showcase the two cases studies supporting this research; Chapter 3 focusses on Mali, and Chapter 4 focusses on the Central African Republic (CAR). These two chapters provide empirical evidence of the recent and inadequate responses, thereby addressing the third sub-question of the thesis: what empirical evidence is there for inadequacy in any African led responses to grave circumstances? The choreography for these chapters is the same. Each chapter begins with a short background of the evolution of the crisis. The substantive part is broken into three main sections reflecting respective levels of analysis. In trying to understand the ‘why’ and ‘where’ global politics happens, since Waltz’s (1959) introduction to the ‘levels-of-analysis’ IR scholars such as Singer (1961) and Buzan (1995) have critiqued aspects of Waltz’s initial thoughts and brought to the fore the need to pay attention to sociological questions of agency and structure. Indeed, several scholars have also raised the limitations of ‘levels-of-analysis’ in an evolving and complex international environment (Sjoberg, 2008). Nonetheless, there is the continuing relevance of the ‘levels’ logic in IR studies. Therefore, the two chapters adopt a ‘spheres of influence’ model (where the sphere of influence connotes a power and resource relationship that is exercised as ‘soft power’ by the entities, and while it may not exclude territorial control, it is not a requirement for influence) to structure the ‘levels of analysis’. I identify three spatially different but interlinked spheres of influence, which shape each other’s outcomes: (i) global geostrategic; (ii) continental; and (iii) operational. Thus, the actors in each sphere do not have exclusive control of that sphere as activities in other spheres impinge upon their action or inaction. The chapters capture the conundrum in relation to the partnership between the AU and ECOWAS on their African intervention in Mali from 2012-2014, and Economic Community 28 of Central African States (ECCAS) on their African intervention in the Central African Republic (CAR) from 2013-2015, respectively. The question to answer here is that if the PanAfrican security partnership is a gatekeeper which helps to create security cultures (Dembinski & Schott, 2014), can it also help us understand the strategic culture of the continent? The chapters use empirical and conceptual data, as well as the benefit of the researcher’s involvement and experiences in the pre-deployment, deployment, and transitions of the African-led Support Mission in Mali (AFISMA) and the African-led Support Mission in the Central Africa Republic (MISCA) respectively to UN-led operations. These chapters benefit from data from fieldwork interviews in Ethiopia, Nigeria and Gabon. The chapters deploy relevant variables of the Pan-African security partnership as appropriate, including legitimacy, resource exchange, imperial consciousness, patterns of amity and enmity, penetration and overlay, high politics, subsidiarity, norm socialization, African Personality and bureaucratic agency. Taken together, these quintessential cases for humanitarian intervention provide fresh perspectives for understanding the AU and RECs/RMs strategic behaviours, and how Africanled efforts are consistently and systematically short-changed at both domestic and global levels. Chapter 5 provides a prognosis of the previous chapters to highlight the key findings of the study. Through the lenses of substantial scholarly work on regionalisms and regionalisation processes, security studies and IR, the chapter illustrates a complex web of networks, entanglements and associations by state and non-state actors who make Africa a fluid and active theatre of regionalisation. Through the data analysis in previous chapters, clear themes emerge which also resonate with the factors of security partnerships such as a lack of adequate theory, the complexity of African security governance, the UN’s selective security, la Françafrique, high politics, subsidiarity (subordination-arrogance dyad), the voice of the people and bureaucratic agency. 29 The establishment of the APSA in 2004 to inherit this security complexity is an ongoing odyssey for the AU. In most cases, the AU’s response is held hostage by circumstances beyond its control, namely inadequate funding and lack of prompt collaborative decision-making. This is compounded by the AU’s over-dependence on external actors for financial and material resources to respond to grave circumstances on the continent, thereby undermining its own ownership mantra and debate. Overall, the lack of Africans initiating, resourcing, owning and leading the security narratives and undertakings in Africa - or ‘Africanness’ - in these undertakings is the central theme of this chapter. The chapter, therefore, argues for an alternative framework for security governance based on African philosophy. Therefore, the chapter identifies the key findings of the study as tenets of African security culture that require further interrogation. Chapter 6 seeks to address the key research question of the thesis, which is to what extent, and in what ways could an African strategic culture underpinned by the concept of Nnoboa improve African-led responses to ‘grave circumstances.’ The chapter develops a novel theoretical model, the Tree of Strategic Culture, to facilitate the epistemic demonstration of African strategic culture from its inputs, through variables to decision rationalities. A Nnoboa rationality provides a relevant framework with which to gauge African security governance. The chapter further deploys three level of analysis that can be associated with relatable ‘birds’ as they would be utilizing the ‘tree (of strategic culture)’ - the Kokrokoo (rooster), Zabuwa (guinea fowl) and Tai (eagle). That is, the fluidity and flexibility in the transactions evident in these three levels or spheres (denoted by the bird analogy) allows Nnoboa to be operationalised at spatial levels, not bound by state-centric levels of analysis. Enhanced through the power of Community Emancipation Theory (CET), Nnoboa utilises a progressive ‘definition of threatassessment of capabilities-division of labour’ analysis to delineate responsibilities and trigger collective responses. 30 On the basis of four selected variables (identity, values, norms and perceptive lens), the chapter systematically analyses a Nnoboa strategic culture and demonstrates the utility of, and theoretical ontology of, synthesising Nnoboa conceptual frameworks through selected variables to determine to what extent, and how they contribute to the improvement of Africa’s responses to ‘grave circumstances.’ In essence, the chapter seeks to show how and why Nnoboa rationality, adapted community emancipation theory and Nnoboa sphere transactions contribute to shaping strategic orientations and decision-making processes of African agency to use force. In this regard, the chapter calls for an assertive re-education of African scholars in their own languages, to close the gap between artificial groups based on the language of the colonisers. Identifying dignity as an important African value, the chapter argues that it is more dignifying for Africans to embrace a strategic orientation that favours collective selfhelp/mutual aid rather than dependence on external handouts. Furthermore, the chapter shows that the Nnoboa sphere transaction facilitates the collapsing of the decision-making centres to one, reducing the time for collective strategic orientation and cutting costs on staff. Lastly, the chapter calls for improvement of ‘perception relevance’ of the African agency through aggressive and proactive mobilization of domestic capabilities to respond effectively to ‘grave circumstances’. In doing so, the chapter stresses the importance of symbols in African security culture, and demonstrates that Nnoboa frameworks are falsifiable and can be used to develop empirical understandings of African strategic culture. The thesis concludes in the final chapter, that the lack of ‘Africanness’ (Africans initiating, resourcing, owning and leading the security narratives and undertakings in Africa) in theory, models and security frameworks is largely to blame for the lack of Pan-African responses to ‘grave circumstances.’ This then results in the undue interference by many actors who are driven by resource scarcity and convergence of interests. Overdependence of Africa 31 on external actors not only delays responses but also denies the continent of its ownership and leadership in African crises management. While the UN Security Council has demonstrated over time its selective approach to such crises, regardless of the urgency, leveraging its hegemony France has become Africa’s great power, wielding influence across the continent, especially from within the EU and the UN Security Council. This thesis concludes that there is a need for a paradigm shift in African security governance, where the main principle is underpinned by an African philosophy, Nnoboa. Through the lenses of Nnoboa, an African strategic culture can be conceptualised. As a valueladen concept, Nnoboa resonates with the African spirit of collectivism and communality. This thesis thus makes a cogent contribution to scholarship and policy-making by introducing three concepts, Pan-African security partnership, epoch-scapes and Nnoboa typology. The thesis finally acknowledges the limitations of Nnoboa with regards to the extent of acculturation, the lack of embeddedness of the researcher in relevant cultural settings, the epistemic critique and mitigation of tensions during crises and thus offers future directions for further research. 32 CHAPTER 1: Theories of African Security Regionalisms: An Epochal Approach We view the formation of regions and transnational communities in a longer historical perspective and claim that the origins of regionness, particularly its cultural dimension, can be traced far back in history (Hettne and Söderbaum, 2000, p. 468). 1.1. Introduction Since the end of the Cold War in the early 1990s, the global order has changed from a bipolar to a complex multipolar environment where the dominance of the nation-state is being challenged by a multiplicity of actors. This has resulted in a dynamic reshaping of social interactions and relations, and nowhere is this phenomenon more evident than in the Global South, including Latin America and Sub-Sahara Africa (Bach, 2015; Hettne & Söderbaum, 2000). Scholars attribute the dynamism to regionalization and regionalism. They are the key drivers for this transformation which involves nation-states, multinational companies, warlords, and international non-governmental organisations at different spatial levels, yielding new relations, networks and partnerships on the global stage (Bach, 2015; Engel et al., 2016; Hettne & Söderbaum, 2000). Importantly, they also yield security derivatives that help shape strategic choices. Addressing the first sub-question of the thesis - How have existing theories and models of regional governance contributed to inadequate responses? - this chapter starts by sketching out the key themes of regionalism theories as they relate to the African security landscape, and then examines the scholarly work by theorists of regionalism to contextualize African security regionalisation. This is important for two main reasons. First, strategic culture is all about context (Gray, 1999). The entanglements, overlaps, and interactions that shape African strategic orientation can best be understood through regionalisation and regionalisms. Second, 33 because the context these theories provides is critical for understanding security dynamics in Africa, it is entirely reasonable to interrogate their adequacy or not as theoretical lenses. Empirically, regionalisation informs types of cooperation, integration, complementarity and convergence that members of a geographic community undertake (Hettne and Söderbaum, 2000). When these are securitised they inform the community’s security partnership. This chapter situates African security regionalisms within wider historical and International Relations discourses. To do this, the chapter traverses extensive literature from these disciplines to theorise African regionalisation through the lenses of Africa’s complex external relations and historiography, as well as assessing the impact of these historic events on African security regionalisation and regionalisms. The chapter explores the eclecticism of Africans in integrating foreign cultures into their historical tapestries and continually adapting to new influences and challenges. It acknowledges the centrality of African history from the First Century, through to the introduction of Christianity and Islam, to slavery and the slave trade, European imperialism/colonisation and then de-colonisation and independence. It is not just the events in history that are important but what they mean, how they impact on African security, and what lessons can be learned for future direction (Williams, 2019). The question then is how do we synthesise this historical, cultural and traditional part of regionalism through contemporary theoretical frameworks for fuller meaning and understanding? Thus, this chapter imposes an ‘epochal approach’ to analyse regionalisms, and thereby contributes to the literature by filling the theoretical gaps exposed in previous theories. 1.2. Regionalisation In IR and political science, regionalism is discussed through three approaches (Engel et. al., 2016). First, the rational choice-based approach posits that states engage in regionalism to mitigate the impact of security dilemmas. Second, neo-functionalists argue that spill-over 34 effects of security issues compel states to form regional groupings to address the common threat. Third, and lastly, the inter-governmentalism school argues regionalisms come about because of the conscious and deliberate decisions of states as dictated by domestic imperatives. These methodological theories are useful for critical scholarly inquiry. Engel et al., (2016, p. 3) defines regionalism as a configuration emerging “from existing or desired interactions and interdependences within a space, transcending established notions of nations and community.” Bach (2015, p. 22) adds that regionalism is “the ideas or ideologies, programmes, policies and goals that seek to transform an identified social space into a regional project.” These interactions may involve interdependences in the social space of mainly state actors. Regionalism is intrinsically a spatial configuration that may be associated with institutionbuilding and formal agreements, although it does not need formality nor institutions to function. However, because these are all embedded in Eurocentric integration theories, their ontological benefits for African regionalism can be limited. Regionalisation, on the other hand, entails the process of formal and informal interactions, including the non-state linkages that contribute to regionalism or maybe run counter to a regional project (Engel et al., 2016). It is a more encompassing process that involves interactions that may have no bearing on a regionalist agenda or project (Hettne & Söderbaum, 2000; Bach, 2015). Most studies on regionalism and regionalisation, broadly agree that the former refers to the institutionalisation of practices by a group of states that are in a geographic location while the latter refers to a process that may include but not lead to institution-building at all (Ayoob, 1995; Engel et al., 2016; Hettne & Söderbaum, 2000). In the words of Bach (2015, p. 22) “regionalism refers to cognitive and/or state-centric projects, while regionalisation points to processes and/or de facto outcomes.” This then is how regionalisation is distinguished from regionalism, but it can be more nuanced or sometimes difficult to notice during the informal interactions. 35 The extent of regionalisation is indicative of the status of the ‘regionness’ for any given region, and therefore can serve as a useful tool for analysis. Regionness is the “process whereby a geographical area is transformed from a passive object to an active subject capable of articulating the transnational interests of the emerging region” (Hettne & Söderbaum, 2000, p. 461; also see Ayoob, 1995; Engel et al., 2016), and hence region-making increases with increased regionalisation. It is considered a heuristic concept and framed by the natural progression of states throughout history in their region-building and regionalisation, which can thus also be interrogated. Regionalisation can occur as a deliberate orchestration by the actors, or inadvertently. In the end, the importance of regionalisation does not depend on how it came about but rather what type of ‘regionness’ emerges from it. To situate regionalisms in a timeframe, scholars refer to the First 1 and Second2 waves, or old and new regionalism (Asante, 1986; Bach, 2015). Hettne and Söderbaum (2000) situate their work on New Regionalism Theory (NRT) within this second wave of regionalism or the ‘new regionalism,’ which is identified with a particular geographic order or a global phenomenon such as the structural reforms that followed the end of the Cold War, emergence of multi-polarity and the relative decline of American hegemony. In this new phenomenon, there is a symbiotic relationship between the region and domestic factors which, to some extent, determine its success or failure. The involvement of several actors at the mega, meso and micro levels of regionalism makes it a complex undertaking and an ‘extroverted rather than an introverted’ mechanism. This facilitates formal institution-building, although there is a risk that the private sector could pursue selfish interests that run counter to societal good and/or become counterproductive (Hettne & Söderbaum, 2000, p. 457). 1 The First Wave occurred in an environment in which the US was no longer committed to the multilateralism of the immediate post-WWII period. Under this regime, there are fewer trade restrictions in developing countries and regionalism might work at cross-purposes to multilateral mechanisms. It could also be spontaneous and from below (firm, market, consumer-driven or non-state actors). This is the period before the Cold War began. 2 The Second Wave covers the post-Cold War period, where the US’ hegemony had relatively declined in a multipolar environment, usually characterised by phenomenon such as the structural reforms 36 NRT also provides some historical perspectives on theory, albeit limited in depth and scope. For instance, NRT offers the lense to analyse historical periods that precede the Westphalian system, as it “view[s] the formation of regions and transnational communities in a longer historical perspective and claim that the origins of regionness, particularly its cultural dimension, can be traced far back in history” (Hettne & Söderbaum, 2000, p. 468). This approach is a very useful intervention because, in some parts of the world, such as Africa, other forms of units of analysis may be needed due to the limitation of Westphalian constructs. Africa’s actual social and cultural interactions on the ground usually defy state-centric projects and sometimes are exacerbated by boundaries that were arbitrarily drawn, and trans-state networks that altogether continue to rob the continent of peace and stability (Bach, 2015; Williams, 2016). The attraction here is that the NRT offers a less state-centric approach, contributing to possible comprehensive approaches to security where peace, culture and the political economy of development are analysed together. However, partly because of the timeframe allocated to them, both waves are linked to events in Europe and the Western world (Bach, 2015). Some scholars firmly challenge this notion of Euro-centricity and argue that other regions outside Europe had their own experiences and trajectories that have not been taken into account (Bach, 2015; Engel et al, 2016). Since regionalisation in IR is a relatively modern concept, it is entirely understandable that empirical facts deeply rooted in history are being ignored (Bach, 2015). Nonetheless, the regionalism and regionalisation under neo-liberal, Westphalian constructs with origins in Europe, cannot apply mutatis mutandis to Africa. If as these scholars argue, Africa’s regionalisation is not a derivative of Europe, how can theory explain the dynamic and interlinked regional systems of de-territorialisation and contested fragmented spaces in Africa? (Engel et al; 2016). I argue that the intellectual compass may be buried in history, for as argued by Hettne and Söderbaum (2000, p. 468) “the origins 37 of regionness, particularly its cultural dimension, can be traced far back in history”. Cooper (2001, p. 190) reinforces this point by noting that “the very notion of ‘Africa’ itself has been shaped for centuries by linkages within the continent and across the oceans and deserts – by the Atlantic slave trade, the movement of pilgrims, religious networks, and ideas associated with Islam, by cultural and economic connections across the Indian Ocean.” Iliffe (1995, p. 1) has further argued that “there is a place for contemporary problems in Africa’s long history.” Therefore, it becomes necessary to understand the impact of Africa’s unique characteristics on the continent’s regionalisation projects. Thus, this thesis argues that there is a strong correlation between Africa’s contemporary security challenges and the continent’s long historical past, often punctuated by all manner of external influences, not least the legacies of slavery, imperialism and colonialism. It is in this context that NRT acknowledges the ‘lack of adequate theory’ (Hettne and Söderbaum (2000, p. 458). Taking on a security angle, NRT further explains that if member states of a regional community agree to solve conflicts by pacific settlement and not by force, a security community emerges. This could engender extensive mutually reinforcing relationships between the ‘formal’ region (community of states) and the ‘real’ region (transnational regional economy and civil society), where other actors are very active (Hettne & Söderbaum, 2000). However, such dynamics should also be analysed through the intrinsically plural nature of security. As Kent (2010, p. 143) argues, security discourses and practices are “embedded in history and culture, both of which are inescapably plural and tied to power.” Plural security entails “a situation in which multiple actors simultaneously assert claims on the use of force to establish order, enforce codes of behaviour and/or reduce community members’ level of risk in daily life” (Price, Albrecht, Colona, Denney, & Kimari, 2016, p. 6). Furthermore, because plural security entails multiple state and non-state actors asserting claims on the legitimate use of force, it may generate networks and entanglements within and outside a state, giving it a 38 sense of regionalism (Hettne & Söderbaum, 2000; Engel et al., 2016). National authorities may sometimes tolerate plural security out of a sheer lack of means to manage security, or when it serves their interests in areas hard to reach and control. For example, in some places in Somalia, Mali and the Central African Republic (CAR), security as a public good does not exist (Williams, 2016). While ungoverned spaces may be highly contested, strong kinship and family ties help to mitigate deviant behaviours. As Price et al (2016) have argued, despite the unpredictability of the pluralistic security they often maintain a good balance and social cohesion in areas under control, while traditional or religious authorities run parallel to the rule of law, if it exists. In most cases, state weakness often contributes to a mix of interdependency, cooperation and contestation in highly localized spaces. More generally, as Williams (2016) has argued, the ‘African terrain of struggle’ represents a place where security is instantiated through local conditions and triangulated through prevailing power constellations. This is a common feature in countries in, or emerging from conflict, or fragile and failed states. As Stel, van der Borgh, Belhadj, Jaffe, Price and Warren (2015, p. 13) argue, across countries challenged by conflict and fragility, non-state security providers command the state’s recognition, sponsorship, or tolerance; co-opt and subvert it; are exploited to extend its rule; or are marginalized, isolated, or criminalized. As regionalisms are analysed through state-centric paradigms with a particular focus on state actors, some of these underlining security nuances and networks are overlooked. However, such interactions could lead to the advancement of peace and security, welfare, human rights, 39 social communications, norms, values and traditions across the region (Bach, 2015; Engel et al., 2016). Meanwhile, when relatively intense security interdependence between states within a region markedly leads to higher regionalisation and displaces relations with states or partners outside the region, a regional security complex (RSC) is deemed to have been in place (Hettne & Söderbaum, 2000). These RSCs are useful for a regional level of analysis because that is where the units get entangled (Buzan & Wæver, 2003). For Africa, RSCs may be at best an aspiration not a reality, because of the continent’s overdependence on external partners. Nevertheless, RSCs continues to provide a useful lens to illuminate the African security complex because Africa possesses “a degree of security interdependence sufficient both to establish them as a linked set to differentiate them from surrounding security regions” (Buzan & Wæver, 2003, p. 48). Furthermore, African regionalism is not a derivative of European experience. Arguably, RSCs hold the key to understanding the security of the members of the community and global power interventions (Buzan & Wæver, 2003). Buzan (2003, p. 141) defines the RSC as “a set of units whose major processes of securitization, desecuritization, or both, are so interlinked that their security problems cannot reasonably be analyzed or resolved apart from one another.” Buzan and Wæver (2003, p. 48) thus developed a Regional Security Complex Theory (RSCT) in which they argue that RSCs are “socially constructed in the sense that they are contingent on the security practice of the actors.” A key objective of RSCT is to give prominence to domestic conditions and ensure “that the local factors are given their proper weight in security analysis” (Buzan & Wæver, 2003, p. 46). However, RSCs does not sit well with mainstream realists and neoliberal views of the international system, because the international system is considered inherently anarchic. Based on constructivist roots, RSCs are typically characterized by “patterns of amity and enmity, which are determined by actions and interpretations of actors” (Buzan & Wæver, 2003, 40 p. 40). Essentially, RSCs are defined by two kinds of relations; patterns of amity and enmity and the involvement of external powers through the ‘idea of penetration and overlay’ (Buzan & Wæver, 2003, pp. 40, 49). Amity and enmity reflect the extreme ends of the RSC spectrum. Adjacency is likely to create more security interactions between members of the community, and lead towards anarchy or security interdependency. States inside RSCs are more likely to engage intensely with each other than with those outside the complex (Buzan & Wæver, 2003). This would engender collaboration and a shift from enmity to amity. The opposite is also true where enmity prevails because security interdependence has failed. In essence, patterns of amity and enmity are “generated internally in the region by a mixture of history, politics, and material conditions” (Buzan & Wæver, 2003, p. 47). They are influenced by many factors such as religion, geography, culture and history. Amity and enmity patterns are not simply friend or enemy dyads, as they are defined by variable roles such as friend, enemy or rival (Buzan & Wæver, 2003). Penetration occurs when outside powers (such as France) make security alignments with states within the RSC, while overlay takes place when the interests of a great power transcends mere penetration to dominate and influence the RSC in a significant way (i.e. the overbearing influence of France on the regional pattern of security relations) (Buzan & Wæver, 2003). It may involve stationing of military forces and bases, for example as France does in some of the Francophone states in Africa (Chafer, 2014). It follows that (in)security in Africa can also be attributed to external interference, especially those linked to its colonial legacy. Buzan and Wæver (2003) concur, but insecurity associated with the failure of the post-colonial state does not tell the whole story, for example as the situation in Libya 2011, mentioned in Chapter 5, will show. In this case ‘grave’ insecurity was also externally induced (The lesson here is that while indigenous causes of crises exist across Africa, they should not be exacerbated by external interference too quickly, particularly without the AU’s involvement). Buzan and 41 Wæver (2003) argue that prioritising global approaches over regional initiatives has resulted in disastrous global responses to crises in developing countries in Africa, Asia and the Middle East. For most of these countries, therefore, the strategic setting for security governance should be first traced to the regional level instead of the global (system) level. Despite helping to define conflict relations in geographic groups of states, some critique the RSC for its failure “to recognize the existence of cooperation patterns and trends at the region level” (Attina, 2005, p.4). Attempts to transplant any Eurocentric approaches to analyse security in sub-Saharan Africa are certainly misguided research methodologies. This is partly because the uniqueness of the African context requires deeper historical and cultural interrogation to complement the important contribution of the RSC. For instance, Hyden (cited in Buzan & Wæver 2003, p.228) observes that “Africa is predominantly structurally defined by groups connected by blood, kin, community or other affinities, for example, religion.” Moreover, RSCT’s historical roots are not sufficiently deep to unearth African security dynamics. Limiting the analysis to pre-Cold War and Cold War dynamics seems to deny or ignore, the important role of history, background, culture and religion as instruments of African security entanglements. The extent to which regionalism contributes to security is debatable, but there is no doubt that security is a function of regionalism (Engel et al., 2016). That means the entanglements and interactions in these spatial configurations, one way or another, generate security imperatives. Current IR theories on African regionalism tend to focus on system-level analysis where the politics among IOs appears intense (Singer, 1961), and is missing interactions ‘from the below’ (Witt & Khadiagala, 2018). There is an imperative to highlight the richer details of historical phenomena that are highly evident across the continent, albeit at the sub-system levels, where there is more intense causation. This thesis argues that, as Williams (2016) depicts ‘local warscapes’, one can locate the origins of African philosophy, rooted in history with the 42 potential to contribute to the growth of theory. Williams (2016) argues that warscapes bleed in both directions, providing a better understanding of the dynamics of contemporary regionalisation in Africa. 1.3. Regionalisation in Africa Generally, scholars of regionalism in Africa interrogate Africa’s regionalisation and regionalism through the lenses of the so-called two waves of regionalism (Asante, 1997; Bach, 2015, Engel et al., 2016). However, as has been forcefully argued by some scholars, Africa’s regionalism is far too complex to be analysed within the two-wave theory or in a binary and deterministic manner, because it defies the logic of Eurocentrism, which does not consider African peculiarities and historical contexts. For this reason, Bach (2015, p.6) notes “the notion of ‘waves’ of regionalism and the narratives associated with these is a first issue that calls for reassessment,” stressing that policies from Africa’s colonial heritage are deeply embedded in the historical origins of several African regionalisms. The European model of regionalism has resulted in a classical transfer of sovereignty from states to the region but responses and adaptations across the world have varied and are uneven. ASEAN, for example, did not mirror the EU model but rather developed a set of norms and practices dubbed as the ASEAN-Way that encouraged informal engagements and noninterference in each other’s affairs (Ba, 2009; Acharya as cited in Bach, 2015), leading to prototypes of regionalism - sovereignty pooling (European model) and sovereignty enhancement (ASEAN-Way). Even before the rise of China as the second largest economy in the world, the ASEAN-Way had upended the conventional wisdom that regional communities only prosper within a liberal-democratic milieu, where there is strong economic interdependence and political pluralism exists (Acharya as cited in Bach, 2015). Nonetheless, some argue that modern African integration is modelled after European experience (Aniche, 43 2020). Indeed, to the extent that African integration was also driven by market-oriented agendas and neo-liberal reforms, Europe is the template (Bach, 2015). Bach (2015, p. 85) thus argues the establishment of the AU was “largely inspired by the European Union (EU) transfers of sovereignty and its norms-driven approach to integration.” Even so, some of the dynamics that were associated with regional integration in the 1960s were actually the reversion of colonial arrangements by the new African leaders (Bach, 2015). So, the question is, how different is African regionalism from the European experience? Scholars have articulated different notions of regionalisation that are uniquely characteristic of the African experience. Engel et al (2016) identify three types of regional governance: (1) neoliberal regional governance; (2) sovereignty-boosting regional governance; and (3) regional shadow governance. In Africa, entanglement entails multilayered interaction with predecessors, competitors and external supporters. Both state and non-state actors are responsible for regionalisation projects in order to achieve private goals and promote vested interests. These may transcend geographical boundaries and create imbalances in the spaces where they are active, contributing to regional exclusive and inclusive dynamics. Importantly, the fragmented spaces in countries such as Mali, Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) and the CAR “contradict state-centric territorialisation and challenges state-based conceptions of regionalization” (Engel et al., 2016, p. 14). In most parts of the continent, “regionalism and the process of regionalization always transmit and contribute to security in some way” (Engel et al, 2016, p. 11). Thus, security is a function of regionalism. Therefore, Bach (2015, p. 8) suggests the use of ‘distinctive threads,’ namely: “integration through hysteresis; regionalism as an arena for the conduct of club diplomacy; the emergence of regional spaces in conjunction with the instrumentalization of cross-border disparities underpinned by trans-state 44 networks; region- and institution-building as expressions of shared PanAfrican aspirations and cognitive maps; and lastly, the dilution of the divide between local, regional and global integration through defragmentation and innovation.” Some define African regionalism in terms of its economic and developmental agenda. If integration entails “strategies of collective self-reliance for promoting economic integration and cooperation,” then as Ernest Aniche (2020, p. 5) argues, “African integration preceded European colonization and … European integration.” In addition to this, this present thesis contributes that there is a significant security portion to African regionalism that must also be taken into account. Aniche (2020) further argues regionalism has deep historical roots that predate colonialism. Okafor and Aniche (2017) and Aniche (2020) for example group African regionalism into three phases, namely: • Phase One - the era of Islamization or Arab colonialism. This began around the 10th Century and was curtailed by the penetration of the Europeans into Africa between the 18th and 19th Centuries. • Phase Two - the era of Diaspora Pan-Africanism or traditional Pan-Africanism began in the late 18th and early 19th century. Here, Pan-Africanism is defined as a project aimed at uniting all African peoples to confront racial discrimination, segregation, racism, colonialism, imperialism, alien religion and slavery against blacks, and pursue freedom, self-determination, selfgovernment, independence and decolonization for Africa. • Phase Three - is characterized by two eras: 1) the era of European colonialism and 2) the era of modern Pan-Africanism. Arguably, the combined effect of these two eras on the continent’s regionalism have been most dramatic. 45 Beginning with the establishment of the Southern African Customs Union (SACU) in 1910, as one of the earliest experiments of regional integration, the British and the French undertook sweeping integrated projects to enhance their hold and control over the affairs of their territories (Bach, 2015; Aniche, 2020). These included projects such as the West African Currency Board (WACB) and the currency of the French Colonies in Africa or Colonies Françaises d'Afrique (CFA) franc by the British and French respectively. Post-independence Africa also witnessed a flurry of integration activities such as the Ghana-Upper Volta Trade Agreement in 1962, the African Common Market (Algeria, Egypt, Ghana, Guinea, Mali and Morocco) and the East African Community (Kenya, Tanzania and Uganda) in 1967. Then came the Lagos Plan of Action (LPA), Africa’s ‘Magna Carta’, as part of the new wave of democratization and economic integration in Africa (Asante 1997; Aniche, 2020). The LPA led to establishment of RECs/RMs as economic building blocs and to an extent, vehicles for political, cultural and security cooperation. However, significant overlaps and multiple memberships, among others, militated against cohesive integration and collaboration. Yet, it is the era which marked the beginning of African integration contra ‘integration in Africa’ in the previous phases (Bach, 2015; Aniche, 2020). It is argued that “African integration was modelled after European neo-functionalism and civilization” (Aniche, 2020, p. 10) as part of a modern phenomenon. Aniche’s progressive analysis inspires this thesis, which seeks to make further scholarly contributions to this line of thought. As this thesis will push the historical boundaries even deeper and refuses to be constrained by Aniche’s three phases as outlined above. Bach (2015) provides an overarching historical, social, political and economic overview on African regionalism. Drawing on several distinctive aspects such as rules, norms, institutions and the dynamism of trans-state networks, as well as the influence of colonialism and Pan-Africanism, Bach used the ‘moment and momentum’ hypothesis to describe how the 46 waves of regionalism occurred. The moment is the event, period or thing that triggered the action towards a regionalist agenda and the momentum refers to what sustains it, the regional integration process. While this study may not be able to satisfy Bach’s rigorous criteria in dated eras, the period nonetheless reveals sufficiently strong evidence about region-making. This thesis will, therefore, use moment and momentum as the theoretical framework to demonstrate region-making in each epoch in Africa. 1.4 Theorising Africa’s Regionalisms African security regionalisation dates back to pre-colonial events that conflicted with the ancient continent and cumulatively and permanently vastly distorted its demography resulting in the emergence of Africa’s post-colonial political, security and socio-economic features (Aniche, 2020). Iliffe (1995) argues that Africa’s long history accounts for many of the contemporary challenges facing the continent and calls for a deeper understanding of the issues. For this reason, it may be useful to review African regionalism within the ‘moment and momentum’ hypothesis, to borrow Bach’s (2015) words for describing the waves of regionalism. Analysis of distinct regionalisation processes will show the emergence of different regional complexes; namely, proto-region or pre-regional zone, religious, slave economy, imperial, Sahara (ecological) and Pan-African. The phenomenon of interests is the epochal nature of the events. Thus, this study adopts an epochal approach as it offers a useful lens for understanding security regionalisation in Africa, and importantly, for understanding the security environment that this research thesis is focused on. Whereas regionalisms are described as modern phenomena involving formal treatise or agreements, the epochal waves do not involve any formalities. Yet, given their enduring impact on the continent and the fact that they connected several African pre-Westphalia societies across large expanses of areas, one cannot deny their regionalist agendas, regardless of the lack 47 of formalities or historical remoteness. These epoch-scapes are fluid, not mutually exclusive nor hierarchical. Some events may be pervasive in more than one epoch in history, where an epoch represents the dominance of, but not exclusively, a particular historical event. This study will demonstrate that some interactions during epochal events help to explain strategic behaviours and choices of African agency in contemporary security settings in Africa. This brings deep historical and cultural reflections into the strategic culture discourse. This thesis argues that for a proper understanding of security imperatives in Africa, it is important to look throughout history, because strategic culture and behaviours of African institutions have interlinked historical and cultural trappings, and thus epoch-scapes constitute regionalisms in their own rights. 1.4.1. Pro-region or Primitive regional complex Before the coming of the Romans and the Phoenicians to North Africa in the first century, the indigenous Berbers and other tribes had developed a sense of socialisation among themselves. They had also developed political systems to manage their communities and environment. Both the Berber and non-Berber populations adopted segmentary3 social and political systems that would act collectively to defend a member who conflicts with someone from another segmentary group (Iliffe, 1995; Southall, 1988). Several chiefless states were scattered over large territories, living independently of each other but connected through a common lineage, which expresses kinship by defending members against external attacks (Williams, 2019). This common lineage – regionness – appears to meet the criteria for a regional space (Hettne & Söderbaum, 2000). The fact that stateless societies relied more on 3 See Southall, A. (1988). The Segmentary State in Africa and Asia. A segmentary state is one in which the spheres of ritual suzerainty and political sovereignty do not coincide. The former extends widely towards a flexible, changing periphery. The latter is confined to the central, core domain. 48 consensus rather than compulsion, cultural values rather than authority or power, on communal persuasion rather than brute or police force, is a testament to their ingenuity and higher moral compass (Marui, 2014). The evidence that when threatened, they sought to defend each other against external intrusions over probably most of the Sahel region, suggests the existence of pre-colonial regionalism, albeit primitive. According to Hettne and Söderbaum (2000), a protoregion or pre-regional zone reflect social interactions between various settlements or communities in Africa that shared a sense of belonging, commonality, inter-subjectivity and cross-cultural experiences from the first century. It is obvious that the sense of communalism and collectivism that the continent yearns for has always been indigenised as highly evinced in the ‘defensive or militant loyalty’ to one another (Mazrui, 2014). Importantly, the shared sense of belonging and commonality in a primitive context, both remain essential commodities for collective security governance, although sometimes they are lacking in African security partnerships. Nonetheless, this primitive regional complex changed over time. In the first century AD, it is estimated that up to 20,000 Roman immigrants settled along the coast from central Morocco to western Libya (Iliffe, 1995). They were closely followed by the Phoenicians in Carthage. The intense interaction with indigenous Berbers transmitted affluent lifestyles and new cultures to the continent in the most unimaginable ways. Indigenous Berbers indulged in the new Roman lifestyle and began to train and export senators to Rome by AD 200 as well as export slaves to meet the demand for labour in Rome and import Roman products (Iliffe, 1995). As indigenous groups found the slave trade profitable, they began to encroach on other African communities for this prized commodity, sometimes resulting in the use of force and protracted conflicts between neighbouring communities. The new Berber adventure threatened other ancestral ethnically diverse populations scattered mainly in the desert oases. Thus, the coming of the foreigners introduced both opportunities and challenges. The economic opportunities, through trade, connected communities in scattered regions, who 49 had craved indulgence in foreign cultures and largesse, while at the same time threatened their existence by making the slave trade profitable. The Berber encroachment for land and slaves raised the security stakes leading to reinforcement of kinship among the scattered tribes to support one another. Here, kinship served as the link to proto-regionalism (Hettne & Söderbaum, 2000), which guaranteed the security of the communities against external attacks. But these externally induced intra-African conflicts sowed seeds of mistrust and hatred and would later serve as fault lines for Europeans to exploit through the adventures of the transAtlantic slave trade and colonialism/imperialism (Iliffe, 1995). Kinship remains the bed-rock of African communities to date (Mazrui, 2014). For the indigenous African, kinship is not simply a biological matter, it is more importantly social. This is exemplified in many East and West African societies, and among many Bantu-speaking peoples (Wiredu & Gyekye, 2010), where for example a child may call his natural mother’s sister’s husband ‘father.’ It is very common to refer to your father’s brother as ‘father,’ and your mother’s sister as ‘mother.’ Some of the languages do not even have the word for ‘cousin,’ a suggestion that all the children belong to the adults in the community. This is the epitome of African kinship where the terms ‘father’ and ‘mother’ are not restricted to the biological parents of a child (Wiredu & Gyekye, 2010). It is all about the connections within the community. It is important to note that Africans can trace the roots of communalism all the way back to the first century and beyond. However, the growing trade led to the opening up of the Sahara Desert to connect North Africa and sub-Sahara Africa - or the two Africas – that even today remain divided politically and ideologically. This facilitated regionalised commerce, including the slave trade and with it tensions and conflicts across West Africa to Sudan (Williams, 2019). It may be argued that these interactions were momentous historical events that were transmitted through cultural adaptions and trade (Bach, 2015; Iliffe, 1995). By sustaining the interactions on trade and security in this geographic space (North Africa across the Sahel and parts of the Sahara), the 50 collaboration inadvertently led to regionness - a distinctive African security proto- region – a primitive security complex (Hettne & Söderbaum, 2000), where segmented communities collaborated extensively for economic, security and common interests. Thus, the settlement in North Africa and the interaction of Europeans and Phoenicians with Berbers provided the opportunity (moment) to facilitate trade and commerce (momentum) to contribute to a regionalisation process – a primitive regional complex. 1.4.2. Religious regional complex While the definition of religion remains vague, there is no doubt that Africans are deeply religious, meaning they have “a belief in the existence of an invisible world…that is home to spiritual beings with effective powers over the material world” (Elis and ter Haar cited in Williams, 2016, p. 163). Perhaps the best example of cultural acculturation that has left an indelible mark on Africa is the transmission of religion, Christianity followed by Islam. Both religions have had a far-reaching impact on the continent in ways that are unimaginable as they produced messianic movements that were emancipatory. Once established and adapted to African cultures, religion became a way of life, connected different states with the same spiritual aspirations and became a tool of protest in Africa, constituting a form of regionness. Traditional African religions — which are still practiced widely across the continent — have not only survived, but in some places, adapted to aspects of Christianity or Islam, or influenced these monolithic faiths to adapt to aspects of traditional religion and culture (Williams, 2019). As a driver for regionalisation, religion led to enhanced trade between Africans and Arabs as well as the burgeoning of early settlements in sub-Sahara Africa (Iliffe, 1995). It contributed to the standardisation of education, commerce, trade, connectivity, a sense of hope and a common language (lingua franca). Arabic became the language of education in North Africa and many parts of sub-Sahara Africa and Swahili was developed as a lingua franca to 51 enable engagement with Arabs and regionalised Kenya, Tanzania, DRC, Burundi, Uganda and smaller parts of other East and Southern African countries (Boahen, 1985). These developments divided and/or integrated African communities with enduring legacies that have permanently altered religious values and affinities in Africa. North Africa and most parts of sub-Sahara Africa subscribed to Islam and the same spiritual code of conduct, which is essentially a way of life. The distinct religious practices, including their way of dressing, strict adherence to the five pillars of Islam, and pilgrimage to Mecca unify them as a region – a group of states pursuing a common interest (Hettne & Söderbaum, 2000; Iliffe, 1995). An aspect of religion that is of interest to contemporary IR and security studies is fanaticism or zealotry. There is evidence to suggest that during the early transmission of both Christianity and Islam in Africa and the European domination, religious zealotry served as a magnet for social interactions and a major tool of resistance, particularly in the partition of Egypt, Sudan and Somalia (Boahen, 1985; Iliffe, 1995). For instance, Christianity was used to radicalise early Berbers and between 249-51 martyrdom became commonplace in Carthage and Numidia (Iliffe, 1995). Christian zealots created schismatic churches among the mainly non-Roman populations to resist the Catholic Church, even in the face of martyrdom. Classic Islamic zealotry also emerged in Sudan under Muhammad Ahmad al-Mahdi whose Mahdism, a militant, religious and revolutionary movement to fight against the Ottoman government, adopted jihadism (probably the first recorded in Africa). Mahdi effectively used jihadism as a foreign policy to engage the outside world and demanded support from all Muslims (Iliffe, 1995), a clear demonstration of a regionalist agenda that gave Islam a momentum to spread. The Mahdi revolt against the British can also be described as a form of nationalism with an Islamic focus (Mazrui, 2014). By 1889, his influence had reverberated in Somalia, leading to Mahdi (Islamic reviver) attacks against British and Italian interests. Between 1897-1914, under the leadership of Sayyid Muhammad Abdille Hassan, a Somali jihadist resistance fought 52 against “European imperialism, ...Christian Colonisation and western education,” which still serves as inspiration for “later generations of his countrymen” (Iliffe, 1995, pp. 44-45), including Somalia’s notorious ‘terrorist’ organisation, Al-Shabaab.4 Clearly, religion has changed and continues to shape the African security landscape, particularly the strategic partnerships and choices of members of African institutions. In recent years, inspired religious zealotry is highly exemplified in the conflicts in Uganda (Lord’s Resistance Army), Somalia (Al Shabaab), Nigeria (Boko Haram), CAR (AntiBalaka and Seleka) and Mali (Ansar Dine, the Movement for Unity and Jihad in West Africa, al-Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb [AQIM], the Signed-in-Blood Battalion, and the Islamic Movement for Azawad [IMA]). Arguably, just as pan-Islamism was used to maximum effect and later spread to West Africa where it posed a major threat to the security of the colonial system (Boahen, 1985),5 pan-Jihadism is now a regionalised threat in many parts of Africa, from North Africa, through the Sahel to East Africa. This is not just a wild claim, as Ali Mazrui (2014, p. 33) has noted, since the Mahdi attacks, “Somali nationalism has continued to have a religious component…Nationalistic Mahdi movements have also appeared in West Africa from time to time.” As far as religious regionalism is concerned, there could be two aspects; namely, positive and negative involuntary religious complex. These are not mutually exclusive and can coexist because terrorist groups often provide goods and services to win hearts and minds of the people, but at the same time, violate the rights of the people under their control. A positive involuntary religious regional complex would occur where those who adopt the foreign religion can freely practice and use it to improve their spiritual, moral and physical lives without threatening others. On the other hand, a negative involuntary religious regional complex takes 4 Al-Shabaab has conducted terrorist attacks in Kampala, Uganda, in 2010 and over the past decade, the group has attacked Kenya at least 30 times, leaving over 600 citizens and scores of foreigners dead, thousands injured and millions of US dollars lost in damages to infrastructure – both public and private. This is indicative of the group’s regional reach that can be traced to the vision of Abdille Hassan (see for example BBC, 2016; ISS Today, 2020)’. 5 The colonial authorities classified groups such as Hamalliyya, the Tijaniyya and the Mouridiyya threats to the security of the colonial system. 53 place where zealots or fanatics use religion to force others under their control to do their will or bidding. To illustrate this point, Figure 1.1 shows African settlements that had come under the influence of both Christianity and Islam around the 14th Century, although Christianity had all but declined in these areas (Iliffe, 1995). In the last decade or so a number of African states have suffered jihadist attacks in an unprecedented manner. Figure 1.2. illustrates the terrorist incidents and areas of influence in Africa from 2010-18, and it is clear from this figure that the increased incidence of attacks closely matches the general area where religion had the most impact in early centuries. FIGURE 1. 1 AFRICAN SETTLEMENTS INFLUENCED BY CHRISTIANITY AND ISLAM, 3RD -14TH CENTURY Source: John Iliffe, (1995) Africans: History of the continent. New York, NY, Cambridge University, p.39. 54 FIGURE 1. 2 ACTIVE MILITANT GROUPS AND AREAS OF INFLUENCE, 2010-2018 Source: African Center for Strategic Studies (2019). Frontlines in flux in the battle against African militant Islamist Groups, https://africacenter.org/spotlight/fronts-fluctuate-in-battleagainst-african-militant-islamist-groups/ 55 It is not the goal of this study to pass judgement on Islam or Christianity for their transmission, but to highlight the enduring impact of religious zealotry on conflicts in the continent. I argue, therefore, that religious zealotry in Africa, as a movement, has had, and continues to have, deep historical religious connection and influence, the momentum that sustains it. The AU rates terrorism as its top security priority (African Union, 2020), and by extension, a dominant factor in African security calculus. 1.4.3. Slave economy regional complex It is estimated that “11, 698, 000 slaves were exported from Africa between 1450-1900” to the Americas and different parts of the Atlantic basin (Lovejoy, 1982, p. 477). The political, socio-economic, moral and emotional significance of slavery to Africa’s development has never been in doubt. In Africa, slavery occurred at two levels—intra-African slavery and interAfrican slave trade—although the magnitude of the former pales in comparison with the latter (Fage, 1969). To this end, Cooper (2001) observes while slavery was an old practice in Africa or Europe, the manner of collaboration between Europe, Africa and the Americas changed the scope, scale and logic. With time, though, African slave traders became more aggressive to own guns in pursuit of wealth. However, this ‘gun-wealth’ culture only produced imperialistminded Africans, who were pitted against each other, “…destroying every basis of unity and, above all…keep[ing] them so busily hating each other that they would forget their real enemies…” (Williams, 2019, p. 252). The debate about African ownership of slaves remains contentious. Obviously, European writers mis-characterised a common practice in parts of West Africa to secure additional farm hands to reinforce the notion that slavery was already a natural phenomenon in Africa (Fage, 1969; Iliffe, 1995). For this reason, Fage (1969, p. 398) notes that “slavery and the commercial valuation of slaves were not natural features of West African society…” Nevertheless, as time went by some African chiefs actively indulged in the 56 slave trade knowingly in exchange for guns and European luxury (Fage, 1969; Iliffe, 1995). Thus, the slave economy served as the momentum for the obnoxious trade in Africa, as well as an inter-regional regionalism with North America and the Caribbean. This thesis has established that Europeans could not have achieved this without the strong collaboration and support of African participation, either wittingly or unwittingly. The fact that this heinous trade lasted for such a long period (300 years) is indicative of the strength and capacity of African political and social organisations that sustained the market. Europeans would later manipulate and leverage these robust indigenous structures to introduce the Westphalian’ concept of statehood in Africa. As Iliffe (1995, pp. 134-135) notes it took “skillful haggling, lubricated by hospitality, bribery, political alliance, copious alcohol, and personal relations between commercial groups with much in common” to manage the trade systems. The forts dotting the coastline of West Africa, monuments of slave markets in the hinterlands, and other archaeological findings in the region, attest to the sophistication and complexity of the infrastructure that supported the slave economy (Boahen, 1985; Iliffe, 1995). Here, this thesis submits that African collaboration with the Europeans and competition between hubs (markets) of the slave trade in sub-Sahara Africa, supported by a strong network of infrastructure, created a regional security and economic complex, which consolidated and facilitated the 16th Century Atlantic Slave Trade as a dynamic regional enterprise. These reinforced interactions (moment) produced new demographic, political, security and economic regional complexes (momentum) that changed the course of African history. There is also a sobering legacy of the transatlantic slavery that scholars are still grappling with. There is evidence that the slave trade has direct consequences for ethnic groupings and economic development in Africa. This economics argument has two narratives; (1) Africa has suffered a ‘reversal of fortune’ in the last 500 years; and 57 (2) Ethnic fragmentation is the cause of African economic backwardness (Hopkins, 2009). In fact, the two are linked, for as argued by Whatley and Gillezeau (2011, p. 571) “Africa’s slave trade, which helped drive its reversal of fortune, increased the degree of ethnic fragmentation in Africa today.” At its peak in the early 2000s, Africa accounted for 47 percent of the world’s ethnic wars and 30 percent from 1990 to 2014 (Williams, 2016, p. 18). Contrasting this with the fact that by the 14th Century, the West African empire of Mali was far bigger and richer than Western Europe and most of the powerful states in the world (Adi, 2012),6 one concludes that slave trade has caused inter-generational, long-term and systematic underdevelopment of many sub-Saharan African economies (Nunn, 2008). It is evident from this section that the legacy of the ‘slave economy regionalism’ is enduring. An understanding of African regionalism would be shortchanged if this grim aspect of African history is not featured in the intellectual or academic discourse about it. Furthermore, to the extent that the origins of Pan-Africanism is traced to political agitation and activities of the descendants of slaves in North America and the Caribbean, the African Union continues to be inspired by the legacy of the trans-Atlantic slave trade. 1.4.4. Imperial and colonial regional complex Long before European imperialism in Africa, indigenous African political systems thrived and engaged in extensive trade and agriculture from the 4th Century in Ghana in the Sahel, Mali and Songhay in the Niger regions (Scott, 1984). Some of these systems promoted thriving agriculture and economic prosperity despite the harsh environmental conditions, reinforcing “the view that an effective and political order can lead to economic growth and 6 Gold from the great empires of West Africa, Ghana, Mali and Songhay provided the means for the economic take-off of Europe in the 13th and 14th Centuries and aroused the interest of Europeans in western Africa. 58 prosperity” in Africa (Scott, 1984, p. 29). However, as time went by, these political systems were weakened by foreign cultures, notably religion, slave trade and colonialization in that order. As echoed by Fage (1969, p. 393) “to stamp out the evils of slavery and slave-trading in West Africa, occupation of its territories was thought essential; indeed, it was specifically imposed as a duty on the European powers following the Brussels Act of 1890.” The period of European domination and imperialism in the 19th Century led to new relationships with the continent, where cultures and traditions that had survived several external interventions, including the transmission of cultures and religion since the 1st Century and the slave trade, were permanently supplanted. Buzan and Wæver (2003) refer to these cultural derivatives as post-traditional. New ‘external’ interests were now to dictate how African communities related to each other. Another ‘moment’ for regionalisation had just arrived. The partitioning of Africa7 by European powers at the 1884-85 Berlin Conference, based on their economic and political reasons, referred to as ‘the curse of Berlin’ by Adebajo (2010), was the most historic and decisive game-changer in the future political, socio-economic and cultural direction of Africa, as well as the demography of the continent. The partition was done without regard for political, ethnic, cultural and religious sensitivities (Iliffe, 1995; Bach, 2015) leading to irreversible ramifications on the continent; deep-seated political, sociocultural rifts, conflicts, wars, tensions and unnecessary insecurity, as well as poverty and economic impoverishment. According to Adebajo (2010, p. 1), this is how they “distorted African politics, economics, and society; damaged indigenous cultures; and retarded socioeconomic development.” 7 The convergence of French military strategic activities to expand its policies with a view to revitalising its colonial wealth, especially in West African savannah, interest in the River Congo and Algeria, British interest in West Africa (mainly along the coast, East Africa and Egypt, Chancellor Otto von Bismarck’s desire for German protectorates in South West Africa, Cameroon, Togo and voluptuous claims to the Congo Independent State, culminated in the 1884-85 Berlin Conference. 59 According to Meredith (2011), the partition disrupted over 10,000 indigenous polities, forcing many adversaries to live together within the same boundaries and used the missionaries to provide education. A reshuffle of borders occurred after the First World War, where German and Italian colonies were shared among the victors, Britain, France, Belgium and the Union of South Africa. Only one African state staved off the colonial onslaught through partition, Ethiopia, but that later capitulated under Mussolini’s revengeful attack. At the same time, most African countries emerged from colonization with two types of sovereignty, empirical and juridical. Empirical sovereignty is the Weberian understanding of the state as an organisation that has the real capacity to govern a people and territory, whereas juridical sovereignty refers to the recognition of state’s legitimacy by other states (Buzan & Wæver., 2003). While juridical sovereignty is all but settled within the international system, the empirical sovereignty is still lacking in some African countries, particularly the fragile states. This is a false statehood, and the CAR is an archetype, because the state authority is concentrated around the capital and the regional capitals, leaving ungoverned spaces for non-state actors to operate. Even so, the socalled ungoverned spaces are not without traditional or local authority, which is sometimes missing in African security governance. The parceling out of the continent and the introduction of European languages as the common languages are two vivid enduring legacies, among others, that continue to drive African regionalisation (momentum). In post-colonial Africa, Africans often identify themselves as either Anglophones, Francophones, Lusophones or Arabs depending on the language of their colonial powers or religious inclination. This identity has indeed been weaponised, as it has kept Africa divided, as envisaged and orchestrated at the Berlin Conference 1884-85. The Anglophone-Francophone divide is probably the most obvious as it plays out against Pan-African endeavours. Language as a colonial legacy, continues to pit Africans against one another in security partnerships. For instance, the strategic orientation of 60 Francophone countries on African issues usually tilts to favour the position of France. For example, Ivory Coast (Côte d’Ivoire), as one of the three African members on the Security Council, voted in favour of the NATO intervention in Libya in 2011, which was contrary to the position of the AU (Chafer 2014). Boahen (1985, p. 237) singles out the literacy culture of the European language as the “highest force of colonial confrontation.” As mentioned earlier, the French and the British put in place several elaborate regionalist agendas in Africa that would serve their interests well after decolonization (Aniche, 2020; Bach, 2015). However, as Bach (2015, p. 26) notes “the people who were being ‘amalgamated’ had never been consulted,” because the objective of these mergers was to serve the imperialists’ agenda then and now, beyond independence. Yet, because of the way they still serve the imperial objectives, Bach (2015, p. 36) calls them ‘integration by hysteresis,’ or the continuation of integration along the lines of practices devised for colonial agenda. Other contemporary IR theorists concur that the African postcolonial era is characterized by “both continuities and discontinuities with colonialism” (Baylis et al., 2017, p. 184). Some of these initiatives atrophied at independence but few remain and continue to define the behaviour of these countries towards African regionalisation in remarkable ways. A case in point is the recent attempt by President Emmanuel Macron of France, in collusion with President Alassane Ouattara of Ivory Coast, to undermine ECOWAS’s longstanding plan to adopt a common currency, the ‘eco’ (Smith, 2020). ECOWAS had not been consulted about this even though the ‘eco’ is the same name adopted by ECOWAS leaders for its single currency in 2019. The Anglophone nations of Nigeria, Ghana, Gambia, Liberia and Sierra Leone, along with Guinea, issued a communique condemning the unilateral action to rename the CFA franc as the eco (Smith, 2020), creating yet another Anglophone-Francophone rift and mistrust. Thus, colonialism served as the moment and language as the momentum that sustained the agenda of the metropole. 61 1.4.5. Pan-Africanism regional complex According to Bach “Pan-Africanism is the oldest and most pre-eminent form of expression of African regionalism” (Bach, 2015, p. 85). Some argue it predates European colonisation in Africa and European integration (Aniche, 2020). Pan-Africanism reflects Africa’s “determination to promote unity, solidarity, cohesion and cooperation among the peoples of Africa and African States” (African Union, 2000). From 1880-1935, intensive interactions between Africans and the people of African descent had a lasting impact on Africa’s decolonisation and the period thereafter (Boahen, 1985). Specifically, it was energised through increased mobilisation of black intellectuals and African students in the United States and the West Indies. Several African elites who would go on to become the leaders in the newly independent nations had attended Pan-African conferences and been inspired by messages about political rights and the pursuit for self-determination (Boahen, 1985). Nationalism and nationalist leaders also played significant roles in shaping the political destiny of Africa from the 1950s. Internally, they pushed the independence agenda forward. Mischievously, though, some of these leaders used nationalism to frustrate the advancement of Pan-Africanism and continental unity as mentioned earlier (Bach, 2015; Iliffe, 1995; Nkrumah, 1963). It is noteworthy that the informal inter-regionalism relationship between North America (including the Caribbean), Europe and Africa during decolonisation was a critical triangular collaboration that inspired and sustained the process. Notably, the ideas of Pan-Africanism and négritude that became the hallmarks of African independence originated from this triangulation (Iliffe, 1995). Nonetheless, Pan-Africanism inspired the first generation of African leaders to establish the Organisation of African Unity (OAU) in 1963, albeit with a revisionist agenda as dictated by the internal dynamics at play (Bach, 2015). As a result, a true Pan-African unity as proposed by the likes of Ghana’s first president, Kwame Nkrumah, was relegated to the 62 background. While the 1960s-80s witnessed the study of politics of regional cooperation through sovereignty and regime boosting, the same period saw the disappearance and emergence of groupings across Africa (Bach, 2015). The African Union (AU) which succeeded the OAU in 2000 is a far-cry from the utopian political unity proposed by Nkrumah. As a PanAfrican institution, the AU’s agenda for peace, security, stability, good governance and economic integration is inspired by the ideas of Pan-Africanism (AU, 2015). Arguably, the transition from the OAU to the AU was the most powerful and symbolic act of Pan-Africanism in the last two decades. To the extent that this drives African regionalism, Bach (2015, p. 46) argues that: three inter-related notions contributed to shape the morphology and trajectory of African inter-governmental organisations (IGOs): the primacy of ‘club’ diplomacy over bureaucratic and inter-governmental interactions, emphasis on regime consolidation and the mobilisation of donor engagement. Regime consolidation may not necessarily align with sovereignty enhancement, but the two are “closely related yet analytically distinct notions that help to account for variations in institutional designs and distinctive logics from regional groupings in Africa” (Bach, 2015, p. 46). Club diplomacy, on the other hand, is a notion that favours inter-personal relations of African leaders over the politics of intergovernmental co-operations. It is facilitated by summitry (arena where African leaders conduct international relations) where leaders meet to ‘scratch each other’s back.’ Arguably, this has had significant impact on good governance, rule of law and human rights than any other variable. With international donor support being critical to African economies, donor engagement and aid shopping have become ‘two sides of the same 63 coin’. For instance, when international donor support makes the call, the pull to intergovernmental grouping is almost spontaneous with little regard to multiple memberships or overlaps (Bach, 2015). This has been facilitated in large measure by patronage highly evidenced in arrangements such as the CFA currency zones and the Southern African Customs Union (Bach, 2015). It is evident that Africans on the continent and those in the diaspora, including the descendants of slaves in the Americans, are connected ideologically through Pan-Africanism and the ideals it espouses. This classic inter-regionalism (Bach, 2015; Engel et al., 2016) also influences strategic choices of the African Union. It is also evident that Pan-Africanism in Africa after decolonisation has been shaped by colonial instruments that are symptomatic of the African democratic governance. 1.4.6. The Sahara (Ecological) regional complex The Arabs that came to Africa, first as nomads and later as Muslim missionaries in the 7th Century, settled in the coastal fringes of the Mediterranean Sea in North Africa as it was the most fertile and easily accessible for commerce (Williams, 2019). Having escaped the harsh desert conditions in the Arab peninsula, the Arabs preferred the commercially buoyant urban centres and coastal fertile areas. It also seems very plausible that the reason the Arab Muslims settled in North Africa was the existing infrastructure for commerce with Europe, townships and extensive real estate that the Romans had established (Iliffe, 1995). North Africa is said to have had a notoriety for its estates, particularly the imperial property, which stretched along the Mediterranean coast. About one-sixth of the imperial properties of the Roman territory was located in modern-day Tunisia in 422 AD, which served as the source of most olive oil supplies for Rome (Iliffe, 1995). The steady flow of uninvited visitors and the geo-strategic significance of North Africa to the known world gradually pushed the indigenous Africans into the interior 64 towards the Sahel. Those who remained in North Africa were acculturated and made to assume the submissive role of the new society. Most served in the military of the occupiers or as slaves. However, Williams (2019, p.184) observes that the movement of Africans as a result of the ensuing migrations over the years was their “greatest and most tragic error” because “instead of moving en masse to the seacoasts and maintaining the dominant position there, which they could have done easily, they moved en masse toward the interior.” Due to severe physiology, vegetation, climate, water and soil conditions the Sahara Desert created an inhospitable environment for Africans to live, largely attributable to nature (natura naturans -nature doing what nature does). Admittedly, the desiccation of the desert created communication challenges that have long been associated with economic life in the Sahara. This served as a major disincentive for the Arabs in North Africa until camels were introduced to facilitate transportation across the desert (Mokhtar, 1981). It was the Muslim onslaughts and Arab imperialism that sealed the fate of the continent by dividing it into North Africa and sub-Saharan Africa, the former with a monolithic culture and religion and the latter with heterogeneous cultures and religions. The demographic and cultural distinction between sub-Sahara Africa and the North Africa have been known to exist since the 7th Century, although contemporary writers make it seem to be a recent anomaly. Some have pitched that this gulf became evident immediately after decolonisation when PanAfricanism and Pan-Arabism competed for loyalties from the North African countries (Mokhtar, 1981). Pan-Arabism constitutes “efforts to achieve one single political and economic unity that serves the higher interests of Arab states and populations” (Saad, 2018, p.1). While the two concepts are not mutually exclusive, they have divergent aspirations and cultures (Saad, 2018). Arguably, the fact that the rapprochement from the Arab world won over these countries should not surprise anyone as the two regions never integrated in the first place. Indeed, through the trade and commercial routes of the 9th Century from Carthaginia through the Sahara Desert, 65 cultural exchanges intensified, but that did not provide sufficient incentive for the northern neighbours to gravitate southwards and settle in sub-Sahara Africa. As the world’s largest hot desert, the Sahara effectively acted as a barrier or slowed down the movement of the settlers in North Africa for centuries, and when they finally connected for commercial reasons, they had no interest to be part of sub-Sahara Africa (Saad, 2018). Arguably, the Arab conquest of North Africa served as the springboard (moment) for the transmission of Islam to sub-Sahara Africa, but it was the introduction of the camel as a means of transport (momentum) that opened up the desert to connect the two African ‘worlds.’ Thus, today, Africa ostensibly refers to subSaharan Africa while North Africa is conflated with and seen as part of the Middle East. From the foregoing discussion, Arabisation of North Africa forced the ‘partition’ of the continent centuries even before the Berlin conference of 1884-85 and introduced two involuntary primitive regional societies with distinct identities; the Arabs in the north and the African tribes to the south. The cumulative impact of these social interferences or external dominations on Africa is the permanent alteration in the political, socio-economic and cultural psyche of Africans. To date, the pseudo-partition between North Africa and sub-Saharan Africa continues to pose geo-political, economic and security challenges for the AU and the RECs. Given that it takes “…geographic propinquity and intensity of interactions to form the core variables that define a region” (Ayoob, 1995, p. 56), the gulf created by the Sahara Desert has imposed a natural barrier between North Africa and sub-Sahara Africa, effectively establishing two separate regionalisation processes, which we will refer to as the Sahara (ecological) regional complex. North African countries face a duality of loyalties but given the homogenous Arab roots, they consider themselves first as Arabs, and if it serves their interests, Africans second. Take for instance, the way and manner North African countries quickly turned against the AU when the League of Arab States (LAS) and the AU competed for agency from events 66 leading up to authorization by the Security Council of the NATO for military intervention in Libya in 2011 (Saad, 2018). The AU criticized the Council for not listening to African voices on the matter, but LAS which saw the fall of Libya’s leader Muammar Gaddafi as an opportunity to reassert control in Libya, fought hard to retain the leadership. Therefore, the Sahara or ecological regional complex helped to drown the AU’s voice, effectively leaving the Libyan file in the hands of the Security Council, NATO members and the LAS. Furthermore, Egypt served as the proxy for some states to support Libya’s renegade Libyan General, Khalifa Haftar, with financial and military hardware (Saad, 2018). Saad (2018, p. 25) argues convincingly that due to the deep-seated Arab consciousness, “Pan-Africanism cannot be promoted in North Africa without nationwide dialogues reassessing the state of Pan-Arabism and deliberate on how Pan-Africanism can be accommodated within this context.” However, without strong Arab leadership, this would be a formidable task for the AU and the leaders of North African countries, and may not take place anytime soon. It is evident that the lack of congruence of Pan-Arabism and Pan-Africanism mitigate against the strategic coherence of the African Union’s intervention ethos, thus discrediting Africa’s most progressive regionalist project. 1.4.7. History matters in theory The ensuing discussion draws attention to the inadequacy of regionalism and regional security complex theories to explain the complex African security environment. This thesis argues that the current theoretical lenses on African security regionalisation, fail to provide a holistic view of the political and socio-cultural interactions of the African context. Apart from the lack of historical and cultural depth, systemic approaches, based on IOs, tend to produce 67 ‘blind spots’8 at the sub-systemic levels that may be crucial in shaping the regionalisation process. To mitigate this risk, it is important to look inward, particularly at the African local warscapes, where 70 percent of the world’s nonstate conflicts occur (von Uexkull & Pettersson, 2018). The idea of epoch-scapes, which is not delimited by geographic constraints or political jurisdictions, provides additional conceptual utility. Figure 1.3 below illustrates how the various epochs are related and continue to be relevant to IR and security studies. Contemporary scholarly work would normally take its historical bearing from the imperialism/colonialism and Pan-Africanism regional complexes (Bach, 2015; Buzan & Wæver, 2003). Each of the layers represents an epoch, with the earliest at the bottom, from where the acculturation starts. While epochs feed off those prior, they do not necessarily have the same impact, because successive epochs sometimes dilute with time, and some remain very dominant and powerful. FIGURE 1. 3 EPOCH-SCAPES REGIONALISM COMPLEX Source: Author’s design 8 The blind spot analogy is drawn from driving situations on the road. It is an area in the driver’s range of vision that he cannot see properly but which he really should be able to see. 68 As several of these epochs overlap, blurring the distinction between them, the study provides only a heuristic impression in this diagram (Figure 1.3). The Sahara epoch-scape is an exception in that its ecological character pre-dates all epochs. In essence, it is the only one that had impact on all the others to varying degrees as represented by the long arrow line. This epochal approach therefore reveals missing links in the current epistemic approaches, the cumulative impact of which is still evident and continues to shape contemporary security issues. How are we supposed to account for events that occurred from the Sahara/ecological through to the slave economy regional complexes? Important characteristics such as kinship and communalism, language as a tool of manipulation, terrorism as a derivative of religious fanaticism, and the paradox of Pan-Africanism and Pan-Arabism would be missing their full ontological meaning in Africa’s security governance. Meanwhile, these key variables shape contemporary security governance. Undoubtedly, historical knowledge is necessary for intuitive and scholarly reflection on how these epochal regionalisms shape current and future security partnerships and strategic orientations on the continent. 1.5 CONCLUSION There is consensus in the current literature that viewing Europe as the main reference point of regionalism could be misleading, as new research reveals unique historiographies and idiosyncrasies that shape respective regions (Aniche, 2020; Engel et al., 2016; Bach, 2015). Yet, a reflection on Africa’s deep historic culture has been particularly absent in the contemporary literature on regionalisation and regionalism. In fact, current theories acknowledge these gaps but do not go far enough to unearth critical historical factors that may have contributed and shaped regionalisation in Africa. Therefore, is there any utility in the political and socio-cultural analysis of other regions based on the general assumption that Europe is the standard-bearer of regionalism and limited historical depth? If we are to 69 contextualize African security governance, partnerships, entanglements and relationships, on the phenomena of regionalization and regionalism, then it is nonetheless important. The reason for this is that these regionalisms have significant security derivatives that shape the security landscape. In response to the gap in theory, this chapter has provided an historical narrative to develop patterns of cooperation, integration, complementarity and convergence of agendas that are reverberating in Africa’s strategic orientation and security partnerships. This chapter’s epochal approach offers a novel and cumulative perspective on the trends of regionalism based on the demographic, cultural, and socio-political socialisation, which have shaped Africa’s resilient character. By closely examining the pre-colonial settlements of Europeans and Phoenicians along the Mediterranean coast in North Africa in the 1st Century, the Christianisation of North Africa and the Abyssinia in the 2nd and 3rd Centuries, the Arabisation/Islamisation of North Africa and later Eastern Africa in the 7th Century, the slave trade for some three hundred years and the period of colonisation/imperialism from the 1870 1960s, it is clear that these historical developments have had an indelible imprint on the African security landscape (Williams, 2019; Iliffe, 1995). This thesis thus argues that altogether, these social, cultural, demographic and ecological interactions in Africa combined inextricably to create involuntary religious, slave economy, imperial and Sahara (ecological) regional complexes that continue to play out in the African regional security complex. Each epochal wave has had an impact on the strategic behaviour of Pan-African agency, ranging from kinship and communalism, religious fanaticism (terrorism), mistrust and mutual suspicion, false identity through colonial language and systems, Pan-African zeal for unity, and the paradox of Pan-African and Pan-Arabism. The idea of epoch-scapes demonstrate that Africa’s historical events have had a cumulative impact on contemporary security partnerships, and thus on how Africa responds to 70 crises, globally. While each epoch produces its unique factors, the lower (earlier) ones bleed into the subsequent ones to produce a cumulative effect. The explanatory power of epochscapes is important to foreshadow the subsequent chapters of this thesis, particularly the complexity in the interactions of African security structures, institutions, member states and the African people. This chapter has therefore argued that while regionalism and regionalisation theories provide a solid base to understand African security governance, the intricacies of security partnerships can never be properly understood without taking into account Africa’s rich historical tapestry. 71 Chapter 2: The Complexity of African Regional Governance Many scholars and policymakers have turned to the concept of security governance in order to better understand international politics (Daase & Friesendorf 2010, p. 1). 2.1. Introduction From the 1990s Africa witnessed a strong desire for integration to advance common political, economic and security interests, which some refer to as ‘the lure of regionalisation’ (Van Nieuwkerk, 2001, p. 7). In 2004, the AU established the African Peace and Security Architecture (APSA) as an overarching Pan-African framework for addressing conflicts and crises across Africa. Acting as the ‘central nervous system’ for the regional security governance, APSA seeks to build a network of partnerships across the continent that allows it carry out its mandate. The previous chapter argued that regionalisms have security derivatives that have shaped African security landscape in unique ways. The main purpose of this chapter is to explain how Africa’s unique regionalism have cast a long shadow of complexity over security governance, ‘hamstringing’ APSA as Africa’s collective response to early warning, early preventive action, and/or prompt response to mass violent conflicts in Africa. This chapter will therefore respond to the second sub-question of the thesis - How have the existing structures and principles of APSA contributed to inadequate responses? Empirically, this chapter describes the complexity of the African security governance, while privileging the lasting impact of Africa’s unique regionalism, including epoch-scapes where applicable. The focus of African agency will be the AU, RECs/RMs and member states, although security governance includes significant aspects of non-state actors. The AU disproportionally depends on support from external actors, making these integral to the 72 continental framework. By linking these communities to what Bach (2015) calls the ‘genealogy of African regionalism,’ the study will show how each IO is influenced by these historical, political and social trappings. The AU is the epitome of this complexity. This chapter begins with a discussion on the theory of security governance and how that relates to APSA. The next section introduces APSA and its interlocking systems and how they are expected to work together for peace and security in Africa. The three components of APSA that are of critical importance for this study are the Peace and Security Council (PSC), Early Warning System (EWS) and African Standby Force (ASF) as they provide the foundations for understanding the security partnerships. Considered as building blocks of APSA, the discussion will introduce the RECs/RMs and explain the complexity they create independently of their partnership ‘conundrum’ with the other actors. The emerging security coalitions also complicate the security mix and merit analytical attention. Partly because the security threats straddle across boundaries and geographic areas of the RECs, emerging coalitions are integral to Africa’s regionalism. The final section of this chapter examines the AU’s relationships with the UN and other partners upon which APSA currently depends. This chapter lays a foundation for the two successive case studies of the thesis, which interrogate particular security partnerships of actors in African security governance in greater depth. 2.2. What is regional security governance? Security governance is a buzzword in policy and academic circles that is largely illdefined. It emerged as a pragmatic approach to pooling together the multiplicity of actors in a meaningful way, contra the state-centric approach that had dominated security studies and IR. Traditional security policy used to be the exclusive responsibility of states, with the military at the centre of affairs (Daase & Friesendorf, 2010). However, as security expanded to include economic, environment, social, and especially health, it became necessary to rethink the 73 governance arrangements. In a way, it is also consistent with the concept of plurality of security which explains how multiple actors assert claims to use force at the same time to enforce behaviour or codes of conduct (Price et al, 2016). It is envisaged that by drawing on the synergies of the combined strength and expertise of states, IOs, and private actors, security governance would provide credible pathways in the contemporary security maze. Daase and Friesendorf (2010, p. 2) argue that security governance entails four aspects: (a) the content of policy (what is to be regulated?), (b) the structure of agency (who are the relevant actors?), (c) the mode of cooperation (how is the policy carried out?), and (d) the structure of compliance (why do actors observe their obligations?). These four aspects constitute an interlocking framework that is lubricated by the mode of cooperation or security partnership. This thesis argues that understanding security partnerships is an important step toward predicting the strategic behaviour and, ultimately, choices of the actors in a community. Security governance is also observable at three levels for the purposes of analysis; global, regional and national (Kacowicz & Press-Barnathan, 2016). It also comes in variations across the globe based on conceptual and epistemological approaches: English School scholars focus on regional security complexes, liberals on collective security, neoliberal institutionalists on security regimes, and constructivists on pluralistic security communities (Kacowicz & Press-Barnathan, 2016). As Brosig (2015, p. 174) has forcefully argued, this is not an easy undertaking because the more complex the entanglements, the less likely it is for the component units to “formulate linear or law-like statements.” Partly because scholarship is obsessed with the role of IOs, there is always a risk to miss inputs from other stakeholders. However, as argued by Daase and 74 Friesendorf (2010, p. 3), “By involving private actors, especially NGOs and corporations, financial and knowledge resources can be mobilised.” This is very important in the era of scarcity of resources, exacerbated in 2020-21 by the COVID-19 global pandemic. Yet because the “interaction [of IOs] is predominantly driven by resource scarcity,” Brosig’s (2015) convergence criteria may not be a successful approach. Nonetheless, security governance helps actors to rethink governance of the security landscape in a whole new way. As with all theories, there is no guarantee that security governance is a panacea to the challenges in a complex security environment, yet it offers the most plausible way forward. Thus, new security entanglements have supplanted national security policy with a complex security governance system (Daase & Friesendorf, 2010). However, security governance also places demands on actors. Some characteristics of security governance are worth noting. First, is the question of ownership and accountability? Partly because the state and/or community are merely brokers in ‘shifting networks’ of multiple players (Daase & Friesendorf, 2010), the question of who leads and who decides becomes important. Here, the chain of command is not linear or deterministic but characterised by policy coordination and trust-building (Daase & Friesendorf, 2010), the latter being a critical tool for compliance. Second, the lack of central authority to formulate policies and the non-binding nature of treaties makes it difficult to elicit compliance from actors. The AU is in a unique situation where its policies and treaties are deemed to be binding on member states, especially the Constitutive Act of the AU (CAAU). However, they do not have the same binding effect on the RECs/RMs, who are independent legal entities in their own rights. This is something the RECs/RMs take seriously as it reinforces their independence. According to Daase and Friesendorf (2010, p. 3) “Security governance … prefers less institutionalised forms of cooperation in which compliance is not ensured through narrowly defined self-interest or fear of punishment, but through the shared belief and conviction to do the right thing.” For this 75 reason, softer laws and policies such as a ‘codes of conduct’ characterise these relationships. The ‘2008 MoU’ – the Memorandum of Understanding on Cooperation in the area of Peace and Security between the African Union, the Regional Economic Communities, and the Coordinating Mechanisms of the Regional Standby Brigades of Eastern Africa and Northern Africa (AU, 2008) is a classic example. 2.3. The African Peace and Security Architecture (APSA) Continued inspiration from the ideals of Pan-Africanism energised African leaders to transition the moribund Organization for African Unity (OAU) to the AU in 2000. Following the adoption of the Constitutive Act (CAAU) in 2000 and the Protocol Relating to the Establishment of the Peace and Security Council (PSC Protocol) in 2002, the AU established the African Peace and Security Architecture (APSA) in 2004. As the continental (regional) security governance framework, APSA’s mandate is to create conditions that are conducive for the acceleration of development, deepening democratic values, promote good governance and human rights. Importantly, Article 4(h) of the CAAU gave the Assembly the right to intervene in a member state in case of “grave circumstances; namely war crimes, genocide and crimes against humanity.” Together with the PSC Protocol, they define the mechanisms through which the AU and the RECs/RMs undertake conflict prevention, management and resolution. The APSA consists of six inter-locking organs, namely, the PSC, the CEWS, ASF, Panel of the Wise (PoW), Military Staff Committee and the Peace Fund (African Union, 2002). Article 16 of the PSC Protocol provides that “Regional Mechanisms [RMs] are part of the overall security architecture of the Union” which will be achieved through “effective partnership” and “close harmonisation, coordination and cooperation between them and the AU” (African Union, 2002, p. 25). Furthermore, Article IV of the 2008 MoU provides that the principles of subsidiarity, comparative advantage and complementarity shall be critical for 76 effective partnership between the AU and the RECs/RMs (African Union, 2008). Located at the apex of APSA is the PSC, which exercises overall responsibility to “promote peace, security and stability in Africa” and “anticipate and prevent conflicts”. Moving forward, the AU recognised eight RECs as building blocks for APSA but only five of them have established ASFs – including the SADC Standby Force, ECOWAS Standby Force, ECCAS Standby Force, EASF (East African) Standby Force and NARC (North African Regional Capability) - “to respond swiftly and deploy rapidly…within 14 days in case of rapid response to mass atrocities” (AU, 2015, p. 32). In light of these developments, some saw the African Union as the agency that will eradicate all forms of coloniality for good (Muchie, Lukhele-Olorunju & Akpor, 2013). Indeed, the AU has been at the forefront of peace and security issues on the continent, however, the results are mixed as the case studies will seek to prove in the next two chapters (Akokpari et al., 2008; Makinda et al., 2015; Williams, 2016). In particular, the AU’s aspiration for effective partnership has failed to materialise, creating tensions between the AU and the RECs/RMs. Thus, this section focuses on only three prominent pillars of APSA, namely the PSC, CEWS and the ASF where the lessons of security partnership, underpinned by subsidiarity, are most evident. This section essentially focuses on the relationship between the AU and the RECs/RMs within the context of their peace and security mandates. 2.3.1. Peace and Security Council The Peace and Security Council (PSC) is vested with the authority to authorise and coordinate the deployment of AU operations with the RECs (African Union, 2002). Over time, it has developed relatively modest institutional and procedural capacities to give voice to Africa on peace and security issues, particularly at the UN Security Council, where it is increasingly improving working methods with the five permanent members (P5) and the three African members (A3). As of January 2020, the PSC had held over 900 meetings since its inception in 77 2004, with a heavy focus on military dimensions of security (African Union, 2020). The scope of the meetings has broadened over time to capture wide-ranging issues including a yearly update on crises from all five geographical regions and status of implementation of various thematic issues within the context of the APSA and the African Governance Architecture (AGA). The PSC has evolved as an essential organ for African security governance but faces several challenges that undermine its efficacy. First, the AU-REC/RM relationship is marred by a lack of clarity over the principle of subsidiarity and lack of representation from the RECs/RMs in PSC meetings, and vice versa (Williams, 2016; Makinda et al., 2015). For a formal definition of the principle of subsidiarity, Article 3(b) of the Maastricht Treaty provides that: In areas which do not fall within its exclusive competence, the community shall take action, in accordance with the principle of subsidiarity, only if and in so far as the objectives of the proposed action cannot be sufficiently achieved by Member States and can therefore, by reason of the scale or effects of the proposed action, be better achieved by the Community (Toth, 1992, p. 1086). Nonetheless, before the Maastricht Treaty came into force, Toth (1992) argued that the principle of subsidiarity was already causing consternation in the EU. Toth attributed this to the fact that “each person expressing an opinion on the principle comes up with a different interpretation of its meaning, scope and effect” (Toth, 1992, p. 1079). This sounds familiar even in contemporary security discourse in Africa, even though it is a different geographic jurisdiction. For the AU, the legal premise for subsidiarity can be traced to Article 16 of the PSC Protocol which provides that “Regional Mechanisms [RMs] are part of the overall security 78 architecture of the Union” and this will be achieved through “effective partnership” and “close harmonisation, coordination and cooperation between them and the AU” (Article 7[j]). Subsequently, the AU codified subsidiarity in the 2008 AU – RECs MoU as follows: “adherence to the principles of subsidiarity, complementarity and comparative advantage, in order to optimise the partnership between the Union, the RECs and the Coordinating Mechanisms in the promotion and maintenance of peace, security and stability” (AU, 2008, p. 4). Since then, the AU and the RECs have referenced it as the source of authority and guidance for their partnership in peace and security (AU, 2019a; AU, 2015a). Yet, to date, the AU has failed to provide amplification, proper context and definition of the principle, leaving it to multiple interpretations and subsequently lack of clarity. For this reason, scholars call for clarification of the principle of subsidiarity to improve AU-RECs relations (Dersso, 2016; Makinda et al., 2015; Williams, 2016), but others think this would be an exercise in futility. Witt and Khadiagala (2018) argue that clarity in the principle will not change anything but rather, we should seek a deeper understanding of social interactions from below. Indeed, that is where the historical origins of African conflicts are located (Williams, 2016). Second, the weak partnership between the PSC and the RECs/RMs is not just due to the lack of necessary legal/policy instruments but is also a problem of duality of legal regimes (Dersso, 2016). A lacuna exists insofar as the AU, and the RECs/RMs have not aligned their normative frameworks, whereby they authorise missions under their respective legal regimes. Arguably, the AU’s inability to develop structural arrangements for effective engagement within the APSA framework is a major contributing factor (Makinda et al., 2015). APSA faces limited coordination between the AU and the RECs/RMs (AU, 2018a). The AU concedes that the coordination between the PSC and the RECs/RMs has made limited progress. Ongoing attempts to reconcile the political and legal decision-making and authorisation of operations could mitigate this problem (AU, 2015a; 2020). 79 Based on AU Assembly’s directives, the First Mid-Year Coordination Meeting between the AU and the RECs/RMs took place in Niamey, Niger on 8 July 2019. Following the meeting, the Assembly further directed the Commission to operationalise a framework on the effective division of labour and a plan of action, in collaboration with the Member States, RECs, AU organs, and regional mechanisms (African Union, 2019b). In late 2019, the PSC reported that progress had been made through follow up meetings on harmonising and coordinating “decision-making processes/division of labour between the PSC and Policy Organs of the RECs/RMs” (AU, 2020, p. 4). Third, resource mobilisation remains a major constraint to the AU’s ability to mandate, coordinate and provide resources for peace support operations, especially funding. The default position for PSC has been to enter into a complexity of partnerships with the UN, EU and bilateral partners to support its operations, which is anything but sustainable. The EU, for instance, has bank-rolled most African operations since 2004 to the tune of 2.7 billion euros (European Union News, 2019). Furthermore, African crises attract several actors to converge around resource exchange, creating an African security regime complex (Brosig, 2015), where African ownership, accountability and leadership are undermined (Daase & Friesendorf, 2010). For this reason, Williams (2016, p. 189) notes that African security institutions struggled to cope and were overwhelmed by the number and complexity of the crises, and “were generally not geared up to manage armed conflicts; they were underfunded, they lacked personnel…”. This is arguably the biggest challenge to African security governance that has the potential to derail all the progress made to date. Budget priorities, more than political rhetoric, demonstrate political will and commitment of African institutions (Johnson, 2006). As this researcher has argued elsewhere “Ownership of African peace initiatives implies an African responsibility to lead on sound planning and implementation of regional peace operations before seeking external assistance” 80 (Appiah-Mensah, 2005, p. 17). Originally stablished in 1993 as the financial instrument of the OAU, the Peace Fund (PF) remained dormant until it was re-launched in 2018 by the AU and has already received from member states over US $100m and counting. The full endowment is expected to reach $400m by 2021 (African Union, 2018a). It has also installed a board of trustees and a committee of fifteen-member finance ministers (F-15) to oversee its management. This has raised hopes that finally the AU may be in a better position to exercise greater ownership of its activities under APSA. Technically, the PF will cover Mediation and Preventive Diplomacy, Institutional Capacity and Peace Support Operations. Failure of a member state to contribute will attract heavy sanctions, including suspension from the AU. The RECs/RMs also face similar financial burdens, but with varying degrees of dependency. ECOWAS, which generates 80 per cent of its operational budget, is in a relatively comfortable position but ECCAS, which has zero budget, is at the mercy of partners.1 Fourth, the PSC-RECs/RMs relationship is further complicated by the multiplicity, complexity and overlaps of RECs/RMs. It is estimated that Africa has at least 14 regional security organisations (GTZ, 2009) and counting. As illustrated in Figure 2.1 below, this is not just daunting for the AU but confronting to its leadership on the continent. Within each complex, the incoherence in national positions also affects AU positions as evident in the decision of the AU PSC, at Heads of State level, on Burundi in 2015, when it ‘backtracked’ on its earlier decision, at the ambassadorial level, to “deploy troops with or without the consent of the Burundian Authorities” (Darkwa, 2017, p. 476). While several African integration frameworks started as purely economic and development institutions, they have assumed security portfolios since the 1990s (Bach, 2015). Other regionalist agendas are deeply embedded in colonial agendas, providing the political, socio-cultural and economic underpinnings for a distinctive African security culture. Thus, African regionalisation does not 1 Various interviews by Seth Appiah-Mensah, February-March 2019, Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. 81 present a neat mental map. As the chapter illustrates in due course, one can say it is messy, complicated and complex. FIGURE 2.1 THE EIGHT RECS: COMPOSITION AND OVERLAPPING MEMBERSHIP Source: Ng, J. and Mumford, D. (2017) The TFTA and Intra-Reginal Trade in Africa, in How we made it in Africa: Africa Business Insight, accessed from www.howwemadeitinafrica.com/tfta-intra-regional trade-africa/58187 82 2.3.2. Continental Early Warning Systems (CEWS) There are two inter-linked parts to the Continental Early Warning Systems (CEWS): the central observation and monitoring centre (the Situation Room) in the AU Headquarters, Addis Ababa, and the observation and monitoring units of the RECs (Article 12 of the PSC Protocol). The former collects and analyses the data for the PSC, while the latter collects, processes and shares with the Situation Room (Souaré & Handy, 2013; Williams, 2016). The active units include the COMESA Early Warning System (COMWARN), the Conflict Early Warning and Response Mechanism (CEWARN) of IGAD, the Early Warning and Response Network (ECOWARN) of ECOWAS, the Central Early Warning System (MARAC) of ECCAS, the National Early Warning Centres (NEWCs) of SADC, and the East African Early Warning System (EACWARN) of the EAC (Etyang et al., 2016). Progress is uneven among the RECs/RMs as some are more advanced and operate more sophisticated database models. COMWARN, for instance, is designed to track structural factors such as peace, health, wealth and trade openness, utilising “a database model that thrives on statistical indicators whilst at the same time infusing dynamic data to enrich the analysis and early response to the conflict” (Etyang et al., 2016, p. 7). ECOWARN, through the Observation and Monitoring Centre (OMC), draws on an extensive network with civil society to enhance the collection, collation and analysis of data whereas NEWCs are integrated with national intelligence communities, whose primary product is classified information. CEWARN focuses on monitoring and tracking cross-border pastoral related conflicts (Williams, 2016). However, the question that is often asked is, how does the early warning lead to early action? There are no easy answers as early warning systems rely on multiple open sources and networks, some of which may be hoaxes or exaggerated. Nevertheless, some major crises may have been averted as a result of early action/response to early warning activity that may not be in the public domain. As Tunji Olonode of ECOWARN notes “it is difficult to measure the 83 effectiveness of early warning systems when conflicts are subdued or prevented from tipping over” (interview with Author, Abuja, 7 March 2019). It must be noted that analysts are not soothsayers, for as Souaré and Handy (2013, p. 1) put it “the field of conflict early warning is not a fortune-telling business.” Yet, if the early warning fails to stop the crisis, Article 4(h) of the CAAU provides that the AU can intervene militarily by deploying the African Standby Force (ASF). 2.3.3. African Standby Force (ASF) While the ASF was declared fully operational in 2016 following the AMANI Africa II field training exercise that was conducted in South Africa in 2015, the operational ability to deploy troops requires significant investment (AU, 2015a). The challenges range from limited internal capabilities, interoperability, training, command and control, cross-border/crossregion conflicts, funding and coordination between AU and the RECs (Makinda et al., 2015; Williams, 2016). For this reason, the inauguration of the first ASF Logistics Base in Douala, Cameroon in January 2018 was a step in the right direction. However, in an era of AU-UN ‘partnership peacekeeping’ (United Nations, 2015), one may ask why the AU is not moving its Logistics Base to Uganda to leverage the existing capacity of the UN’s Regional Service Centre in Entebbe (RSCE). For the ASF to be operational, the RECs/RMs have designed a combination of standby forces on roster in order to provide necessary Peace Support Operations (PSO) capability. Under this arrangement, the AU does not enter into direct negotiations with Member States (AU, 2010). As the first responders, the RECs lead this process. To close the gap, it is imperative to establish a strong relationship between the AUC and REC/RM leadership to ensure closer cooperation between their early warning and planning elements (AU, 2019, 2020). It should be noted that there is nothing sacrosanct about this, though, as specific crises 84 may compel the AU to generate additional forces outside the region in crisis. This could be undertaken directly with individual/capable member states as deemed appropriate (AU, 2010). The ASF is designed to respond to six potential PSO mission scenarios; namely 1) Scenario 1 - AU/Regional military advice to a political mission; 2) Scenario 2 - AU/Regional observer mission co-deployed with a UN mission; 3) Scenario 3- Stand-alone AU/Regional observer mission; 4) Scenario 4 - AU/Regional peacekeeping force for Chapter VI and preventive deployment missions (and peacebuilding); 5) Scenario 5 - AU Peacekeeping force for complex, multidimensional peacekeeping missions, including those involving low-level spoilers; and 6) Scenario 6 - AU intervention, (e.g.) in genocide or humanitarian crisis situations where the international community does not act promptly or where the international community requires the AU to act on its behalf (AU, 2010, pp. 4-5). Each scenario has a unique deployment timeline from the time the mandate is issued. For Scenarios 1 through 4, it takes 30 days; Scenario 5, 90 days with the military component being able to deploy in 30 days; and Scenario 6, 14 days with robust military force. To be able to respond in line with these timelines, particularly in the case of Scenario 6, each REC/RM is expected to develop its own Rapid Deployment Capability (RDC) (AU, 2010). In this regard, the AU reports good progress and significant improvement in the development of the Civilian and Police Components of the ASF (AU, 2015a). As part of the overall ASF development, the Planning Elements (PLANELMs) were created as a management capability at the AUC and the RECs/RMs. PLANELMs provide oversight and management for pre-deployment, deployment and post-deployment processes, as well as ensuring coherence in the multidimensional nature of PSOs (AU, 2015a). They are also responsible for churning out policy guidelines and doctrines for PSOs. But this critical capacity is emaciated, slowing progress across the board. There is also a concurrent effort to get the ASF Regional Standby Brigades ready for deployment, exempting NARC. Meanwhile, 85 in 2013, the core of ECOWAS Standby Force (ESF) constituted the AFISMA headquarters in Mali and managed the operation with ESF doctrines.2 The first Central Africa Peace and Security Council (COPAX) operation in the Central African Republic (CAR), MICOPAX, deployed between 2008 and 2013 to consolidate peace and security, assist with the respect for human rights and create a humanitarian corridor for humanitarian assistance (Meyer, 2015). ECCAS managed MICOPAX through the ASF doctrine until it transitioned to African-led International Support Mission in CAR (MISCA) in 2013.3 The most significant existential threat to the ASF came from volunteer member states who were frustrated by the latter’s failure to intervene in Mali in 2012 (Esmenjaud, 2014). They established the African Capacity for Immediate Response to Crisis (ACIRC) as a bridging mechanism until the full operationalisation of the ASF. Fourteen member states signed up to participate in ACIRC. Those who argued for its retention cite its potential flexibility to deploy anywhere on the continent without constraints (Ani, 2018). This strategic move immediately pitched Africans against each other, ASFites4 versus ACIRCites.5 Due to these competing demands, the Assembly asked the Commission to harmonise ACIRC with the ASF to develop timelines and a roadmap. Subsequently, the Assembly decided to integrate ACIRC into the ASF framework, requesting ACIRC to wind down by June 2020 (AU, 2020). As a consequence, the AU encouraged all ACIRC Volunteer Countries/Nations to look into the possibility of availing their assets to their respective RECs/RMs as needed. In the end, the ASFistes have triumphed, and ACIRC has been liquidated, but not without leaving some bruises. 2 Gen Lai, former ECOWAS Chief of Staff, Interview with author, Abuja, August 2019. Ambassador Hamuli, Libreville, interview with author. March 2019. 4 ASFites are those member states who believe in the sanctity of the ASF as originally conceived to enable member states to intervene in grave circumstances. 5 The ACIRCites are the proponents of the new initiative. Somehow, they also see themselves as more panAfricanists who want to help African redeem its image after failure to intervene timeously in Mali. 3 86 However, even as these developments are underway, the decision-making for an ASF operation remains unclear, and this is complicated by the need for consultations at four different levels, namely the UN, AU, the REC/RM and the potential Troop and Police Contributing Countries (T/PCCs). As if this was not complicated enough, these processes are associated with parallel engagement with partners/donors (AU, 2015a). However, there may be a silver lining in the AU-RECs efforts. The PSC reported in 2019 that the AU Commission is working on the development of policies for the functioning of the ASF, particularly the new Doctrine for Peace Support Operations, as well as towards the establishment of the ASF Regional Logistic Depots (AU, 2020). 2.3.4. The Regional Economic Communities and Regional Mechanisms (RECs/RMs) In the 1970s, the United Nations Economic Commission for Africa (UNECA) assisted the African Union to design Regional Economic Communities (RECs) as a means of collective self-reliance for sustainable socio-economic development, and as the building blocks of an African Economic Community (AEC), via the Lagos Plan of Action (LPA) (Asante, 1997; Bach, 2015). The LPA provided eight RECs to facilitate regional integration, namely, the Arab Maghreb Union (AMU), the Community of Sahel-Saharan States (CEN-SAD), the Common Market for Eastern and Southern Africa (COMESA), the East African Community (EAC), the Economic Community of Central African States (ECCAS), the Economic Community of West Africa States (ECOWAS), the Intergovernmental Authority on Development (IGAD) and the Southern African Development Community (SADC) (AU, 2015). Later, the 2008 MoU expanded the parties on peace and security to include the Eastern Africa Standby Brigade Coordination Mechanism (EASF) and the North African Regional Capability (NARC), which 87 do not fall within the ambit of any of the RECs (AU, 2008). These and future coalitions would constitute the Regional Mechanisms (RMs). However, these socio-economic agencies soon found themselves caught in the development-security nexus, increasingly inching towards pseudo-security communities (Van Nieuwkerk, 2001). Essentially, what shapes regionalisms are colonial configurations and nationalism on one hand, and liberation movements and pan-ideologies on the other (Engel et al., 2016). From the previous chapter, post-independent Africa continues to be active in regionalism, not least because club diplomacy, summitry and patronage have exacerbated adherence to good governance, the rule of law and human rights (Bach, 2015). The impact of these seemingly modern phenomena on top of the cumulative effect of epoch-scapes can push countries to a tipping point such as Sudan in 2019. In this case, Pan-Arabism was invoked by the United Arab Emirates (UAE), Saudi Arabia and Egypt to protect the junta in Sudan while the AU suspended the regime through its Pan-African instruments, notably, the AU Charter on Good Governance, Democracy and Elections (The Guardian, 2019). This is a classic case of confluence in epoch-scapes where two epochs (Religious and Sahara/Ecological) seeped into and influenced a more recent one (Pan-Africanism). Following Africa’s ‘endogenous shock’ from the 1994 Rwanda genocide, most RECs/RMs expanded their mandates to include conflict management mechanisms (Bach, 2015; Makinda et al., 2015; Williams, 2016). Figure 2.2 below illustrates how the RECs/RMs as currently constituted under the ASF regime. This is not surprising as the RECs/RMs are involved in the management of 85 percent of conflicts in Africa (ECCAS-CMI, 2016). 88 FIGURE 2.2 MAP SHOWING AU, RECS AND RMS IN AFRICA. Source: Schaefer (2012) The Africa-EU peace and security partnership and African regional organisations, IAI Research Paper, Roma, 23, p. 24. The nature of regional groupings and entanglements constituting RECs/RMs can be traced to the impact of epoch-scapes, especially the Sahara/Ecological, Religious, Slave economy, imperialism/colonialism and Pan-Africanism regional complex. The loyalties, tensions, mistrust and social capitals built over the years through these affinities determine how the members bond and un-bond in a particular regional setting. Some of the nuances and idiosyncrasies underlining these exchanges will be addressed in due course. Suffice to say here that not all these communities are pulling in the same direction as the AU. For instance, in Figure 2.1 COMESA, ECCAS, SADC, CEN-SAD and IGAD have more than dual 89 membership. Multiple memberships is exacerbated by the fact that membership fluctuates according to national interests and priorities. There is also the high politics which exacerbates the unpredictability of some of these engagements. Söderbaum and Tavares (2009, p. 199) argue that what drives high politics is that: levels of mistrust and often-personal enmities between leaders of neighbouring African countries render it almost impossible to expect that they will, on their own, come to some sort of negotiated regional settlement. International cajoling and support are required. In June 2019, the DRC’s new leader, President Tshisekedi, requested to join the East African Community (EAC) (Ilunga, 2020; Trademark East Africa, n.d). The DRC, which shares borders with four of the six members of EAC, hoped this membership would drop custom’s barriers and increase trade. Indeed, some member states do not see multiple memberships as problematic. They argue that politically and strategically, overlapping membership helps members to optimise benefits of integrations from other regional groupings (Schaefer, 2012). For others, multiple memberships may render collaboration costly, inefficient and ineffective. As part of norm-making, norm-entrepreneurship, norm-rejection and normconsuming, multiple actors in Africa interact or converge around common interests or resource exchange to form non-linear outcomes (Bloomfield, 2016, Brosig, 2015). The peace and security treaties of RECs/RMs and codes of conduct or memorandums of understanding are a testament that independent entities abhor chain of command relationship with the AU (Daase & Friesendorf, 2010). A round table (tour de table) of some of the RECs/RMs would highlight how these peculiarities of African regionalism may have given the continent a distinctive regional security governance. 90 2.3.4.1. Arab Maghreb Union (AMU) The Arab Maghreb Union (AMU) was founded on 17 February 1989 to fulfil “three decades of pan-Arab rhetoric” for post-independence inter-Maghreb unity (Zoubir, 2012, p. 84) with membership comprising Algeria, Libya, Mauritania, Morocco and Tunisia (but notably not Egypt). However, the idea of AMU had long been the aspiration of North African leaders (Crutcher, 1963). The paradox of Pan-Africanism and Pan-Arabism are quite strong here. Epoch-scapes explain that there are two obstacles to overcome, the ecological gap represented by the Sahara Desert and the ideological/religious challenge, represented by Islam and Pan-Arabism. The establishment of the AMU provided hope for the Maghreb populations who are religiously homogeneous (Arab-Berber), with a somewhat common language and culture, the Islamic religion, geographic propinquity and identical but unique colonial experience. This new sense of belonging is what Zoubir (2012, p. 86) calls the ‘Maghrebi consciousness and identity.’ In fact, the 2014 constitution of Tunisia reified this sense as it stated that the country is “part of the Arab Maghreb … and works towards achieving this unity” (Saad, 2018, p. 25). Ironically, the constitution was silent about Tunisia’s relations with the rest of Africa, even as it reaffirmed its Arab-Muslim identity (Saad, 2018). Given internal rivalry, unity would not eventuate until there is strong Pan-Arab leadership in North Africa to pull the members together (Saad, 2018). However, their coming together will not guarantee a Pan-African pull in North Africa because of divergent aspirations. 2.3.4.2. Community of Sahel-Saharan States (CEN-SAD) The Tripoli-inspired Community of Sahel-Saharan States (CEN-SAD) was established in February 1998 to promote economic integration and free movement of people and goods as 91 part of an effort to create a free trade area (UNECA, n.d.). The former Libyan leader, Muammar Gadhafi, who had been isolated internationally, sought a political platform to project himself in intergovernmental meetings in Africa. Starting with six countries (Libya, Burkina Faso, Mali, Niger, Chad and Sudan) its membership has since grown to include 28 countries 6 from across the continent. Arguably, all these countries were attracted by the patronage of Gadhafi (Sturman, 2003). CEN-SAD also portrays a continent divided along ecological lines – the Sahel and Sahara. The fact that its membership is drawn from more than half of African member states that are geographically dispersed is a recognition of the need to mitigate the ecological impact on African regionalism. 2.3.4.3. Common Market for Eastern and Southern Africa (COMESA) The Common Market for Eastern and Southern Africa (COMESA) was established in 1994 to be a fully integrated, internationally competitive regional economic community with high standards of living for all its people ready to merge into an African Economic Community (COMESA, n.d.). COMESA’s highest decision-making body is the Authority of the Heads of State and Government of the 21 member countries, namely, Benin, Burkina Faso, the Central African Republic, Chad, Comoros, Côte d’Ivoire, Djibouti, Egypt, Eritrea, Gambia, Ghana, Guinea, Guinea-Bissau, Kenya, Liberia, Libya, Mali, Mauritania, Morocco, Niger, Nigeria, Senegal, São Tomé and Príncipe, Sierra Leone, Somalia, Sudan, Togo, Tunisia. 6 CEN-SAD members include Benin, Burkina Faso, the Central African Republic, Chad, Comoros, Côte d’Ivoire, Djibouti, Egypt, Eritrea, Gambia, Ghana, Guinea, Guinea-Bissau, Kenya, Liberia, Libya, Mali, Mauritania, Morocco, Niger, Nigeria, Senegal, São Tomé and Príncipe, Sierra Leone, Somalia, Sudan, Togo, Tunisia. 92 2.3.4.4. East African Community (EAC) Founded in 1967 by six partner states (Burundi, Kenya, Rwanda, South Sudan, Tanzania and Uganda), the East African Community (EAC) is guided by the 2000 Treaty which established the Community (EAC, 1999). EAC adopted the Protocol on Peace and Security in 1999 which allows it to among others, foster regional peace and security, peace support operations; prevention of genocide; control of proliferation of small arms and light weapons; and combating transnational and cross-border crimes. 2.3.4.5. Economic Community of Central African States (ECCAS) Founded in 1983, ECCAS seeks to promote and strengthen the harmonious relationship between its member states (ECCAS, 1983; Meyer, 2015). It has a membership of eleven comprising Angola, Burundi, Cameroon, Central African Republic, Chad, Congo, Democratic Republic of Congo, Equatorial Guinea, Gabon, Rwanda, and São Tomé and Príncipe. Central Africa which had “deliquescent and moribund” regional institutions struggled to reform and take off (Bach, 2015, p. 92). Being predominantly francophone countries, they share common colonial heritage, which understandably gives France a significant influence in its activities. As explained in epoch-scapes, imperial/colonialism regionalism complex continues to shape ECCAS’ strategic choices and behaviour. This was evident in the prominent, but not necessarily complementary, the role of France and ECCAS members from the beginning of the crisis in CAR in 2013 (Meyer, 2015). Partly because of France’s patronage in the region, Central Africa hosts some of Africa’s longest-reigning leaders with poor records of human rights and the rule of law and good governance (Meyer, 2015; Welz, 2014). These constitute potential powder-kegs for instability in Africa. 93 2.3.4.6. Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS) The Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS) was formed in 1975 to foster greater regional interdependence which would minimise the dependence of member states on European states, transnational corporations and investment from industrial countries (Jaye, 2008; Okom, 2016). In 1999, ECOWAS Authority of Heads of State and Government (AHSG) adopted the Protocol Establishing the Mechanism for Conflict Prevention, Management and Resolution, Peacekeeping and Security (Mechanism) in Lome, Togo. According to Williams (2016, p. 192), the Protocol on Mutual Assistance Defence (PMAD) in 1981 provided ECOWAS with the opportunity “… to respond more effectively to security challenges,” because it had become apparent to ECOWAS that the OAU’s tepid approach to conflict resolution was nothing more than symbolic meetings. ECOWAS had already established security institutions following its experience from Liberia and Sierra Leone in the 1990s, and therefore had a head-start in regionalism (Bach, 2015). ECOWAS is the main theatre where French and English rivalry continues to play out through the Anglophone-Francophone dichotomy (Wyss, 2017). It should also be recalled that Nigeria actively canvassed for the formation of ECOWAS to strengthen ties with its Francophone neighbours to weaken France’s control in the region (Bach, 2015). While France is very much present in the affairs of all its former colonies, the UK has all but withdrawn. This lopsided field has given France the advantage to highjack regional integration agendas such as the ECOWAS force in Mali and supplant it with its messianic deployment in 2013 (Fafore, 2016). This is yet another classic example of how imperialism/colonialism regional complex (epoch-scapes) reverberates in contemporary security governance. 94 2.3.4.7. Intergovernmental Authority on Development (IGAD) The Inter-Governmental Authority for Drought and Development (IGADD) was established in the Horn of Africa in 1986 to mitigate the impact of recurring drought and natural disasters. At the outset, the leaders preferred to limit their objective to environmental issues as a way of avoiding ambitious regionalist design (Bach, 2015). IGAD membership comprises Ethiopia, Eritrea, Uganda, Kenya, Sudan, South Sudan, Djibouti and Somalia. IGAD has been active in conflict resolution among its member states. From 2001-2005, it was involved in the negotiations leading to the signing of the Comprehensive Peace Agreement (CPA) between the Sudanese parties. Some credit IGAD with helping to reach agreements on the issues of self-determination, separation of state and religion, and powersharing (Back, 2016). However, in doing so, IGAD is also criticised for its club diplomacy and cosiness towards authoritarian regimes to the exclusion of other political organs (Bach, 2015; Mahboub, 2013). Nevertheless, IGAD is commended for bringing together the Sudanese parties for talks before the South Sudanese referendum (Mahboub, 2013). In 2018, through the rapprochement initiated by the new Ethiopian Prime Minister, Ahmed Abiy, IGAD witnessed the normalisation of relations between Ethiopia and Eritrea followed by the reopening of embassies, borders and reuniting family members (Temesgen, 2020). 2.3.4.8. Southern African Development Community (SADC) The Southern African Development Community (SADC) is a ‘melting point’ of diverse colonial cleavages from Britain, France, Germany and Portugal. It draws membership from Angola, Botswana, the Democratic Republic of Congo, Lesotho, Madagascar, Malawi, Mauritius, Mozambique, Namibia, Seychelles, South Africa, Swaziland, Tanzania, Zambia and Zimbabwe (Bach, 2015). The South African Development Coordination Conference (SADCC) 95 aimed to keep at bay the destabilisation acts of apartheid South Africa and to facilitate the decolonisation of the region (Van Nieuwkerk, 2001). It evolved as a modest security institution or ‘loose grouping of states’ based on a Memorandum of Understanding (MoU) signed in 1981 between the former Front-Line States (FLS) to serve as a counterweight to the region’s economic over-dependence on apartheid South Africa (Bach, 2015). The membership was subsequently enlarged as more countries joined; South Africa (1994), Mauritius (1995), the DRC and Seychelles (1997) (Van Nieuwkerk, 2001). In 2009, the SADC Treaty was amended and replaced by the Consolidated text of the Treaty of the Southern African Development Community (Olutayo & Adeniran, 2015). SADC has been active in conflict resolution through the deployment of high-level mediators (retired heads of state) to engage in crises in Angola, Lesotho, DRC, Zimbabwe, but results are mixed (Cawthra, 2010). Epoch-scapes explains the lingering impact of apartheid on SADC. Nathan (2016, p. 9) attributes this to “lack of common values, mutual trust and shared vision of the security regime.” SADC’s deliberate policy to keep a lean and weak secretariat is in response to concerns of weaker members states not wanting to surrender their sovereignty to supranational institutions that may be under the sway of powerful member states (Bach, 2015; Nathan, 2016). 2.3.4.9. Eastern Africa Standby Force (EASF) Due to conflicting loyalties of member states to existing RECs, competing interests and a requirement to draw in the island states in the Indian Ocean, an Eastern Africa Standby Force was created in 2004 for the Eastern Africa Region (but does not sit within any recognised REC/RM). It comprises Burundi, Comoros, Djibouti, Ethiopia, Kenya, Rwanda, Seychelles, Somalia, Sudan and Uganda, which are signatories to the Memorandum of Understanding on 96 the Establishment of the Eastern Africa Standby Force.7 EASF attained full operational capability in 2014 and has since been in a reasonably good state of readiness and deployed 14 staff officers to the African Union Mission in Somalia (AMISOM) to strengthen the AMISOM Force HQ in 2011 (Robinson, 2014). In 2015, the EASF developed a contingency plan for possible deployment to Burundi, in close coordination with the AU, but the plan was aborted by a PSC decision at the Heads of State level (Darkwa, 2017). None of the existing RECs in East Africa could host EASF because of conflicting loyalties of member states, competing interests and a requirement to rope in the African island states in the Indian Ocean. In fact, Non-IGAD members objected to a proposal for IGAD to coordinate initial efforts to establish an Eastern African Standby Force (Robinson, 2014). Robinson (2014, p. 31) notes that while IGAD may have been out-manoeuvred in its bid to host EASF, regional rivalries continue to be responsible for the ‘very poor’ communications between RECs in the region (IGAD, EAC), and COMESA. 2.3.4.10. North African Regional Capability (NARC) The North African Regional Capability (NARC) was established in 2007/08 as a regional coordination mechanism for the North African Standby Force. NARC coordinates the development and operationalisation of the Force’s capabilities. However, as NARC draws its membership from AMU, the fate of the ASF and the early warning system in North Africa hangs in the balance. The NARC seriously lags behind the others (African Union, 2018b; Ani, 2018; Williams, 2016). This is further complicated by the tense regional relationships among member states (Zoubir, 2012). Some may even question NARC’s loyalty to Pan-Africanism as its member states tend to prioritise Pan-Arab matters. In terms of military might, the North 7 By 2011, 14 states were technically participating in the EASF: Comoros, Djibouti, Eritrea, Ethiopia, Kenya, Rwanda, Somalia, Sudan, Uganda, the Seychelles, Madagascar, Tanzania, Mauritius, and Burundi. Four of these states also continued to belong to SADC. South Sudan currently enjoys an observer status. 97 African countries (Egypt, Algeria, Morocco, Tunisia and Libya) are among the top ten countries in Africa (Saad, 2018). Their failure to operationalise the NARC can be attributed to tensions and divergence in geopolitical considerations as well as what Saad (2018, p.1) refers to as a struggle to “demonstrate a genuine commitment to African affairs.” Ironically, these countries are among the top financiers of the AU. The confluence of Pan-Africanism and PanArabism will be critical if NARC is to be operational within the broader ASF framework. This thesis argues that this gap has been exacerbated by ecological, ideological and religious differences as explained through epoch-scapes. 2.3.5. Emerging Regional Security Coalitions As regions are social and political constructs, they continue to evolve according to a particular problem or crisis (Engel et al., 2016). A new trend in African regionalism are ad hoc security coalitions, often initiated by a few affected member states to address the emerging cross-border crisis. During crises, the emerging regionalism tends to attract international attention and draw external interventions from states and organisations that are not in the geographic congruity of the region, such as France and the United States. These external ‘intervener extraordinaire,’ and ‘extra-regionalism’ adds to the complexity of regionalisation in Africa (Ba, 2009). Article 3(l) of the CAAU opens the door to future regionalisation by noting the need to ‘coordinate and harmonise the policies between the existing and future Regional Economic Communities for the gradual attainment of the objectives of the Union’ (Ani, 2018). The emergence of ad hoc security coalitions poses governance challenges to APSA and questions its continuing relevance (Darkwa, 2017; Lacher, 2013). For instance, the pervasive nature of terrorism and cross-border threats in countries from West Africa, the Sahel, Sahara, East and Central Africa has occasioned unparalleled collective efforts from affected countries. As some of these crises can be traced to religious fanaticism, poor governance, 98 poverty and colonial legacies, this thesis therefore views them through the epochal and cumulative impacts of these regionalisms on the continent. On 22 November 2011, the AU PSC authorised the Regional Cooperation Initiative against the Lord’s Resistance Army (RCI-LRA) to contribute to the elimination of the threat posed by the LRA in Northern Uganda and beyond. Uganda, South Sudan, DRC and CAR deployed forces in South Sudan and the CAR, with the support of the United States Special Forces, to minimise the impact of the LRA in the region (GlobalSecurity, n.d.a). However, the fact that Joseph Kony and his senior officials have remained at large in the deadly triangle between Northern Uganda, South Sudan and DRC is testament to the artificiality of the political borders imposed by colonial powers. Thus, the type of ‘Christian fanaticism’ associated with Kony continues to thrive in the deadly triangle by exploiting the porous borders artificially imposed as part of imperialism/colonial regional complex. The PSC authorised the Multi-National Joint Task Force (MNJTF) in February 2015, allowing members of the Lake Chad Basin Countries (LCBC) to respond to the threat posed by the Boko Haram insurgency in the region (GlobalSecurity, n.d.b). In addition to grievances such as marginalisation, bad governance and lack of the rule of law, religious fanaticism sits at the centre of Boko Haram’s agenda as it claims ‘Western education is an abomination’. This is indeed reminiscent of the days of Mahdism mentioned in the previous chapter with huge Islamic and, in fact, epochal impact. MNJTF participating countries include Cameroon, Chad, Benin, Niger and Nigeria. Following the collapse of the Libyan state, the Sahel region witnessed a proliferation of arms and armed groups, most of which are violent extremists inspired by religious fanaticism such as Al Qaeda in the Maghreb (AQIM), Ansa Dine and Al Mourabitoun and other affiliated groups (Lacher, 2013). The trans-national nature of the new and distinct threats brought together Burkina Faso, Chad, Mali, Mauritania and Niger to form the Group of Five Sahel (G5 Sahel) force in February 2014. Subsequently, in 2017 the AU- 99 PSC authorised the deployment of the G5 Sahel Joint Force (Force Conjointe du G5 Sahel – FC-G5S) to conduct cross-border joint military counter-terror operations, including cooperation on border areas. Clearly, ad hoc security coalitions raise questions about African security governance. First, where do they fit in the wider security architecture, given that they are not part of the eight recognised RECs/RMs? Partly because they do not neatly sit within the RECs/RMs, they also do not necessarily work through them or always consult them in their decision-making process. The uncertain role of ECOWAS in the G5 Sahel where some members do not belong to ECOWAS is a case in point. Second, they may be perceived as ‘freelancing’ in the security space, adding to the complexity of the environment (Brosig, 2015). A third issue is that typical of security governance, coalition member states enjoy greater latitude about the generation and deployment of forces, command and control, oversight responsibility, and external partnerships with donors and other non-regional participants. They thrive and survive on multiple sources of funding, including self-funding, and bilateral funding from partners and the AU. The ‘freedom’ from the AU’s chain of command allows hegemons to step up funding and other support. For instance, in June 2015, President Muhammadu Buhari of Nigeria directed the immediate release of $21 million to MNJTF and pledged $100 million in support (GlobalSecurity, n.d.b). This thesis argues that there is no guarantee that Nigeria would have made the same overture had the AU taken over. Of significance, these coalitions are the preferred options for the UN and the West because the African force offers a cheaper alternative to undertake counter-terrorism in Africa with minimal risk to their forces (Williams, 2016). Fourthly, the ability of ad hoc coalitions to deploy much more quickly, due in part to having less bureaucratic hurdles, is a utility the ASF covets. But the AU faces a political conundrum as it mandates the deployment of a force that it has little or no control over. Nonetheless, given 100 that security governance is not compatible with strict chain of command (Daase and Friesendorf, 2010), why would the AU want to control ad hoc security coalitions beyond giving them legitimacy? It remains to be seen whether the Assembly’s request on the Commission to take steps to enhance cooperation with all ad hoc coalitions to optimise their utility for peace and security would generate greater independence for RECs/RMs (African Union, 2002, 2018b). 2.3.6. APSA and external partners From the outset, the AU knew it would not be able to generate internally all the resources needed to support its new normative framework. On resource mobilisation, PSC Protocol and Article XIV of the 2008 MoU envisaged the contribution of international partners. Since the AU’s first deployment in Burundi in 2003, through Darfur in 2004, Somalia in 2007, Mali in 2012 and CAR in 2013, the partners have been a critical component of the African security complex where actors converge around resource scarcity to make necessary contributions (Brosig, 2015), usually based on comparative advantage. Yet the partnership reveals mixed results partly due to the unpredictability of both endogenous and exogenous partnerships. 2.3.6.1. APSA and the UN Based on the Romano Prodi report on AU peacekeeping (issued by the high-level panel led by former Italian Prime Minister) the UN Secretary-General recommended the alignment of all UN offices in Addis Ababa to provide coherent advice to the AU on peace and security in 2009 (UNSG, 2009, 18 September). On this basis, the UN General Assembly decided to establish the United Nations Office to the African Union (UNOAU) in 2010 to strengthen 101 coordination and cooperation in areas of peace and security (UNGA, 2011, 28 July). UNOAU has since provided strategic coherence and streamlined UN support to the AU, resulting in the signing of the Joint AU-UN Partnership Framework on peace and security in 2017 by the Secretary-General and AU chairperson (UN-AU, 2017). The joint framework covers several thematic areas; joint efforts to resolve conflict, sustainable political solution, protection of civilians, promotion of human rights, prevention of human rights violations as well as respect for international humanitarian law and participation of women in peace and security agenda. While these have not yielded predictability, they certainly have provided a platform for constructive consultations and collaboration with the UN at different levels. At the political level, the UN Security Council and the AU Peace and Security Council have also established biannual meetings rotating between Addis Ababa and New York to discuss peace and security issues in Africa (ICG, 2019). While significant progress has been made through this engagement, many challenges remain. Often, the PSC is frustrated that the UNSC does not listen to its concerns when mandating missions in Africa, and, negotiating legitimacy for AU PSOs from the Council has become an uncertain and a frustrating adventure for the PSC (ICG, 2019). Negotiations are often characterized by ‘imperial consciousness’ of the P-3 partly because the UNSC treats the PSC as a junior partner in the relationship, reminiscent of colonial/imperial legacy. Another issue that remains intractable between the two institutions is how the AU operations can have access to the UN assessed funding. Since the Prodi Report, the AU has argued forcefully in vain for the UN to consider its requests on a case-by-case basis. Attempts to resolve the funding conundrum through the UN Security Council with a proposal from the AU to share the burden on a 75/25 ratio has not received the necessary political support, even though the UN Secretary-General remains supportive (ICG, 2019). The discussion has stalled at the Security Council level as some members refuse to give a blank cheque to the AU. 102 At the Secretariat level, a Joint UN-AU Task Force (JTF) was set up in 2010 to enhance the strategic partnership between the AU Commission and UN Secretariat (General Assembly, 2011). The JTF meets biannually to assess the security issues that are eventually tabled at the Security Council. An annual desk-to-desk meeting between the staff of the two Secretariats sometimes feeds into the JTF agenda. Additionally, the UN secretariat avails strategic and technical support to the AU to plan, deploy, manage and liquidate its peace support operations (PSOs). Indeed, in the absence of AU policies on PSOs, UN guidelines/manual is the default for AU deployments. 2.3.6.2. APSA and the EU In 2007, having decided that “Africa cannot be left alone to bear the burden of peace support operations” the EU and AU established the EU-African Strategy on Peace and Security to discuss causes of conflicts and their resolution; and strengthen the cooperation in case of conflicts, as well as conflict prevention, post-conflict reconstruction and peacebuilding and security. Given the tenuous relationship between the AU and the RECs/RMs, the EU sometimes struggles to implement the framework based on a ‘single entry approach’ to the continent. This is partly because such an approach risks alienating the RECs/RMs who carry most of the responsibilities (European Union, 2018).8 Nevertheless, the EU remains Africa’s most reliable financial ally in peace and security. As observed by the EU Commissioner for International Cooperation and Development, Neven Mimica, in 2019, “Europe remains Africa’s first partner in the area of peace and security” (European Union News, 2019). Since 2004, the African Peace Facility (APF) has provided €2.7 billion to support ‘African solutions to African problems’ (see Ayittey, 1994). 8 Interview by Seth Ap piah-Mensah, Jacques Demain, August 2019. 103 The latest tranche of €800 million was announced in July 2019 to bolster Africa’s efforts in implementing the APSA and silencing the guns by 2020. Over the years, the APF has helped the AU to strengthen conflict prevention, management and resolution structures and mechanisms of the APSA, including the finance of African-led PSOs, such as the Multinational Joint Task Force (MNJTF) against Boko Haram, the African Union Mission in Somalia (AMISOM) or the G5 Sahel Joint Force. On top of this, the EU pays the salaries for the entire Peace Support Operations Division (PSOD) staff at the AU Commission and the liaison officers of the RECs/RMs in Addis Ababa (Schaefer, 2012). The EU has gradually helped to build the capacity of the African counterparts to manage the APF and account for its expenditure. The EU-African partnership dates back to the Lomé convention signed in 1975, aimed at supporting the African, Caribbean, and Pacific (ACP) States’ efforts to move towards selfsustained development. The Cotonou Partnership Agreement1 (CPA) was signed in 2000 for a twenty-year period and expired on 29 February 2020 (European Union, 2016). The annual Africa-EU Partnership on Peace and Security provides the political forum for strategic engagement. The AU PSC also meets the EU Political and Security Committee (COPS – French acronym) once or twice per year. As important and strategic as these meetings are to both parties, the Libyan crisis in 2011 exposed divergent positions. Schaeffer (2012) notes that while the EU perceived the Africans as emotional and over-reactive, the Africans accused some EU member states for coming to the meeting with prefabricated agendas. Tellingly, the two parties failed to agree on a common approach to address the Libyan crisis (Chafer, 2014). 2.3.6.3. APSA and other partners By their privileged position on the Security Council, the P-3 wield significant political and strategic influence on African crises and how the Council responds. Holding the pen in the Council, they often treat African issues with imperial consciousness because they decide what 104 is admitted into the resolutions. A Council member ‘holding the pen’ usually often decides what action the Council should take the lead in drafting an outcome document, while negotiating with other members, and if necessary, the Secretariat. The United States and France have by far been Africa’s most consistent bilateral partners in the last decade mainly due to their vested interests in the global war on terror, geostrategic competition, and natural resources (Chafer, 2014; Souaré, 2016). The US also undertakes bilateral support to participating member states in peacekeeping through the African Contingency Operations Training and Assistance (ACOTA) Program. The ACOTA Program, which began in 1997, helped African countries, RECs/RMs and the AU build capacities and capabilities in peacekeeping resources and expertise to deploy in a self-sustaining manner. By 2013, ACOTA had provided training and non-lethal equipment to 254, 228 African peacekeepers from several countries (US Department of State, 2013)9 Most of these contingents were deployed to UN or African peacekeeping missions across the globe. France’s support to Africa, particularly francophone Africa, is tied to its colonial legacy, la françafrique, which allowed France to enter into bilateral agreements with its and former Belgian colonies (Burundi, Rwanda, and Zaire[now the DRC]) to protect French business interest in exchange for stability and protection.10 The UK remains interested despite the fact it had been consumed in recent years with the protracted Brexit negotiations, and in 2016, the UK deployed 70 military advisors to Somalia to help the Somalia government rebuild its security institutions (BBC News, 2016). Other partners such as China and Russia are increasingly showing an interest in military assistance to African countries. China currently is the only permanent member of the UN Security Council to deploy troops in UN peacekeeping operations in Africa and is currently the 9 The countries are Benin, Botswana, Burkina Faso, Burundi, Cameroon, Djibouti, Ethiopia, Gabon, Ghana, Kenya, Malawi, Mali, Mauritania, Mozambique, Namibia, Niger, Nigeria, Rwanda, Senegal, Sierra Leone, South Africa, Tanzania, Togo, Uganda and Zambia. 10 Most of these agreements remain valid, although some are considered state secrets, but they allowed France to preeminence in Africa, in collusion with ruling elites. The links to the CFA currency and French business interests are at the heart of these partnership. 105 major supplier of Contingent-Owned Equipment (COE) to Troops/Police Contributing Countries (T/PCCs) in Africa. China has also built the largest military base in Djibouti, which it claims is for logistics purposes (Cabestan, 2020). A Russian adviser to the President of the CAR is quoted in an article to have said “Russia has returned to Africa,” signifying how Russia has joined the scramble for Africa, making in-roads with arms deals with the government of CAR, training of government troops and signing of lucrative deals for exploration of minerals (Al Jazeera, 2019, April 14; Reuters, 2018). This bilateral support may not be of direct benefit for APSA implementation as member states are under no obligation to avail those resources or capabilities when needed. Nevertheless, they enhance the capacity of member states to contribute to ASF and AU PSOs. 2.4. Where To? To say the AU and the RECs/RMs have an uphill task at developing and managing coherent African security governance is an understatement. As mentioned above, the AU has no power to compel compliance over independent entities. Besides, this is contrary to the spirit of the concept of security governance which is an antithesis to a hierarchical chain of command (Daase & Friesendorf, 2010). Furthermore, for various reasons, including the epoch-scapes, there is no evidence that the RECs/RMs are eager to invite the AU’s interference or intervention in their business. There is also the problem of external partners who prefer to choose how they carry out partnerships, and with which agency. Being beyond the reach and influence of the AU, direct support to RECs/RMs from partners can also undermine the AU’s credibility and leadership. As significant as the PSC is in making life and death decisions in Addis Ababa, they often lack congruence with the decisions from policy organs of the RECs/RMs. The duality or multiplicity of norms poses a significant challenge that may never be addressed 106 through ongoing AU-RECs/RMs coordination mechanisms that only seek to focus on matters of procedures for collaboration and cooperation. At the centre of these engagements is the principle of subsidiarity which is yet to be persuasively complied with. Will the AU be willing to collaborate more with the policy organs of the RECs to ensure joint political and strategic approaches from the African security governance? The flagship of APSA is the ASF, but it remains to be deployed as envisaged. Given its inability to deploy to Mali in 2012; and how long it took to declare it operational in 2016; and its dependence on partners for the progress thus far; it would be important for African institutions to rethink this important tool. In his report on AU reforms, President Paul Kagame of Rwanda asked a fundamental question: “How can member states own the African Union and regain their dignity if they do not set its agenda?” (Kagame, 2017, p. 24). Per the same report, as at 2017, 97 per cent of AU’s programmes were funded by donors and more than half of its membership had defaulted on their financial contributions to the organization. Being merged now with the ACIRC, the question to ask is - will the ACIRC volunteer members avail their resources to the AU or designated REC/RM in times of ‘grave circumstances’, and under what conditions? The criticality of this question lies in the fact that ACIRC members pledged in line with the ‘African solutions to African problems’ mantra. This will determine whether Africans will generate their own capabilities, funding and self-sustainment, without being held hostage by international patronage. 2.5. Conclusion Africa’s lure for regionalism predates the establishment of the AU and the APSA security governance system that was established to manage the security complex. Security governance, as a concept, provides a basis for understanding the Africa security landscape in a new way. While providing the content of the policy, the structure of African agency, the mode of 107 cooperation and the structure of compliance, security governance does not guarantee coherence. Being the highest form of Pan-African epoch-scapes, the AU gives a good sense of how the remainder of the framework is uniquely complex and difficult to operate. Furthermore, given their own disparate genealogies and trajectories, the RECs/RMs also have unique geopolitical and geo-cultural underpinnings, intra-regional relationships and multiple pull-andpush effects. As a result, the RECs/RMs do not necessarily pull in the same direction with the AU during crises. Indeed, the sheer number of these security regions also creates complexity for efficient security governance. Given the history and complexity of security regionalisation in Africa, tensions and mistrust will continue to be part of APSA’s journey, and practical multidimensional measures based on deep ontological inquiry are required to mitigate the situation. Additional entanglements and complicated layers are added by external actors, which render the African regime complex even more difficult to manage. In particular, the overdependence of the AU on partners for legitimacy, financial and logistics resources, undermines African agency. The impact of all these on the overall continental security governance, through APSA, is significant. Yet, current scholarly and policy efforts focus disproportionately on the principle of subsidiarity, which is only but one of the important variables of Pan-African security partnership. This thesis, therefore, argues that ongoing efforts to clarify the principle would yield cosmetic results, at best. Instead, a holistic approach requires the deployment of the full gambit of Pan-African security partnership to have a better ontological sense of Pan-African strategic choices and responses to grave circumstances. This is exactly what the next two chapters are set to do through case studies in Mali and CAR. 108 Chapter 3: Case Study 1 - The Response to Mali (2012-2014) AFISMA allowed Africans to test the APSA and at the end of the day ‘a very good’ verdict was rendered. Salamatu Hussaini-Suleiman, ECOWAS Commissioner for Political Affairs, Peace and Security (2012-16). 3.1. Introduction During the Mali crisis from 2012-14, Pan-African security partnership under APSA was stretched to the limit, revealing its limitations, opportunities and, in some cases, irrelevance. In addressing the core research question of this thesis, to what extent, and in what ways, could an African strategic culture underpinned by the concept of Nnoboa improve African-led responses to grave circumstances, this crisis is a highly relevant case study as it represents the first proper ‘“partnership test’” in peace support operations between the AU and the RECs on one hand, and between African and external actors, on the other. This case study is conducted against the backdrop of two major lessons learned through exercises conducted subsequently by the UN (in which this author participated as an interviewee), and the Economic Community for West African States (ECOWAS, 2014) respectively, after the Mali intervention. Among other findings, these evaluations concluded that the lack of clarity of the principle of subsidiarity hampered the relationship between the AU and ECOWAS. This chapter explores additional variables of Pan-African security partnership which equally influence the strategic orientations of African agency to undertake coercive action timeously. This is the first of two chapters that provide empirical evidence of the inadequacy in Pan-African responses as per the third sub-question of the thesis - What empirical evidence is there in the recent practice for this inadequacy in responses? While 109 providing the ‘how’ of the partnership, the chapter postpones critical analysis of why individual actors took decisions that either advanced coercive action or not. Instead, such analysis and explanation will tarry until Chapter 5 where a comprehensive diagnosis of the case studies will be provided. As discussed in the Introduction chapter, this thesis identifies three spatially different but interlinked spheres of influence in the case studies, which shape each other’s outcomes: (i) global geostrategic; (ii) continental; and (iii) operational, and actors in each sphere do not have exclusive control of that sphere as activities in other spheres impinge upon their action or inaction. At the global geostrategic sphere of influence, this thesis examines how the UN Security Council, France, the EU, US and other major external actors responded to repeated requests from the AU and ECOWAS to deploy a Pan-African force in Mali. The section singles out France, showing how its ‘penetration and overlay’ strategies in Africa facilitated its intervention in Mali (Buzan & Wæver, 2003). It also shows how the European Union (EU), the largest financial contributor to the AU peace support operations, and other partners may have struggled to follow the Council’s lead. The continental sphere of influence covers Pan-African ‘high politics’ that manifested in the interactions between the mandating bodies, the AU and ECOWAS, member states and key African leaders. I will highlight the policy and legal convergences and dissonances that shape decision-making in these Pan-African institutions. A subsidiarity tug-of-war over ownership issues characterised relations between AU and ECOWAS. By rejecting the PanAfrican intervention, the people of Mali brought to the fore the importance of the voice of citizens of member states in Pan-African security partnership. Lastly, the operational sphere of influence exemplifies the cumulative impact of decisions taken at higher levels of authority on the ground. It is the place to assess tangible evidence of the international community’s response to the ‘grave circumstances’ in Mali. This 110 section provides insights into how the African-led efforts were so difficult to operationalise in Mali, particularly the political impact on operational matters. The influence of the bureaucrats, who give operational meaning to political decisions, was paramount but remains understudied. This chapter will demonstrate that when endogenous and exogenous, but inter-locking, relationships are properly aligned, they can be mutually-re-enforcing. Conversely, they generate tense, and sometimes, toxic outcomes. As a result, effective Pan-African security partnership should lead to early African/international responses. 3.2. Context of the Mali crisis Mali, a Sahelian country in West Africa and a former French colony, was until recently lauded as a great example of stable democracy in sub-Saharan Africa (US State Department, 2018, September 6). However, historically, the country had witnessed at least three waves of Tuareg rebellion generally attributed to the disappointment with France’s failure to create a separate independent Tuareg nation at the dawn of the new Malian nation, combined with poor governance and economic and political marginalisation (Souaré, 2016). Historically, the Berber-speaking Tuaregs moved to Mali in the 5th Century, successfully built the city of Timbuktu, converted to Islam in the 14th Century and accumulated a lot of wealth through trade and other economic activities (Devon, 2013). However, their ‘“independence’” was curtailed when the French forcibly brought them under one colonial administration, French Sudan, in the 19th Century until the declaration of the Mali independence in 1960, which kept the status quo. Since then, “the fight for Tuareg independence remains and leads us into the current, ongoing rebellion” (Devon 2013, p. 2). This is evidence of the cumulative manifestation of the three epochal regional complexes (primitive, religious, and imperial) outlined in Chapter 1, which this thesis argues is a common phenomenon in many African conflicts. 111 Unsurprisingly, soon after the demise in 2011 of Libyan leader Muammar Ghaddafi and his regional power structures, Mali faced the gravest political, security and humanitarian crisis in its independent history. Shortly after the 2012 coup in Mali, Tuareg rebel fighters, grouped under the coalition of the National Movement for the Liberation of Azawad (MNLA) seized large territories in northern Mali. Soon after, radical Islamic armed groups including Al Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb (AQIM), Ansar Dine and the Movement for Unity and Jihad in West Africa (MUJAO), initially aligned themselves with MNLA to gain control of the north of the country (Souaré, 2016; WPF, n.d.). MUJAO, which was notorious for kidnapping western hostages for ransom, fought MNLA for seizure and control of strategic towns such as Douentza and crossed into central parts of Mali, where it threatened government-controlled areas. These groups are neither homogenous nor united in their goals. While MNLA pursues legitimate political goals, the Islamic insurgents are perceived as opportunists who have highjacked the insurgency for their own ideological ends. The situation was exacerbated by a coup d’état carried out by Captain Amadou Haya Sanogo in March to derail two decades of democratic dispensation. Importantly, the coup facilitated the annexation of Gao, Kidal and Timbuktu regions by the armed groups, including MNLA, who subsequently proclaimed independence and called its territory the ‘State of Azawad’ in April 2012 (ECOWAS, 2014), as illustrated in Figure 3.1. The armed groups comprised former combatants and recruits from the sub- and wider regions. They were well-armed, with equipment captured from the Malian armed forces and through the illegal flow of arms from Libya and elsewhere, including rifles, heavy weapons, surface-to-air missiles, anti-aircraft guns, rockets, mortars, light armoured vehicles, mines and improvised explosive devices (Chafer, 2014; WPF, n.d.). They consolidated their control in northern Mali, with alliances between the different groups remaining fluid, and conducted a reign of terror on the towns. They all engaged in criminal activities, including drugs, arms and 112 human trafficking, hostage-taking, and other illicit activities; they also allegedly executed some 80 personnel of the Malian defence and security forces in Aghelhoc (Souaré, 2016). AQIM was also allegedly responsible for the destruction of some significant holy, historic, and cultural sites in Timbuktu, including some listed as World Heritage sites by the United Nations Education, Scientific and Cultural Organisation (UNESCO). They established training camps in Gao and vigorously pursued cross-border recruitment of children in refugee camps in Niger, Mauritania and Burkina Faso (Souaré, 2016). While this was going on, the entire Malian state tethered with uncertainty and political instability. FIGURE 3. 1 MAP OF MALI, SHOWING AREA CLAIMED BY THE STATE OF AZAWAD. Source: Frank Jacobs, 2012, All Hail Azawad, New York Times. 113 3.3. Global geostrategic sphere of influence 3.3.1. Security Council mulls the deployment of a pan-African force to Mali The 2012 members of the UN Security Council comprised the five permanent members (China, France, United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, United States of America and Russian Federation) and ten elected members (Azerbaijan, Colombia, Germany, India, Guatemala, Morocco, Pakistan, Portugal, South Africa and Togo). A key agenda item for the Council was to consider the deployment of an international military force in Mali, including means and modalities of the envisaged deployment, in line with resolution 2071. France, with the support of the other the two P-3 members, made a case in support of military assistance to the authorities in Bamako, as part of a grand strategy. China and Russia raised no objections nor questioned the rationale for a stabilisation mission, fully supporting resolution 2071. Two African Council members, South Africa and Togo, played a key role to keep African voice on the table, AU and ECOWAS respectively. Morocco, which had not re-joined the AU was generally supportive but stressed the need for a clear plan for negotiation with insurgents in the north. Some members of the Council also considered the development of a strategy that deals with the issues relating to the wider Sahel. In light of the situation in Libya, some Council members were sceptical about international military assistance that could get out of control (Security Council Report, 2012). In its Presidential Statement of 4 April, the Council acknowledged the seriousness of the crisis and was “alarmed by the presence in the region of the terrorist group Al Qaida in the Islamic Maghreb, which could lead to a further destabilization of the security situation,” and thus approved the ECOWAS-led reconciliation and mediation efforts (UNSC, 2012, 4 April).‘’ Soon after the terror groups and criminal gangs seized three northern Mali towns, namely Kidal, Gao, and Timbuktu, the Authority of the ECOWAS Heads of State (AHS) authorized 114 the immediate deployment of the ECOWAS Standby Force on 16 April 2012 (ECOWAS, 2012). The ECOWAS AHS decided “to take all other necessary measures to assist Mali to regain its unity and territorial integrity” and instructed “the Commission to commence, with immediate effect, the deployment of the ECOWAS Standby Force in Mali, in line with the approved Mandate” (ECOWAS, 2012). From thereon, ECOWAS, initially on its own and then later in coordination with the AU, embarked on an intense diplomatic campaign through a series of events, meetings, and correspondence to obtain the UN Security Council to authorize the deployment of a Pan-African military force to Mali. While acknowledging the potential threat of the insecurity, the Council only expressed “concern at the risk posed by fighting to Mali’s World Heritage sites.” Thus, the Council was muted until 18 June when it issued a press statement encouraging a political settlement of the crisis. In almost the same breath, the Council then expressed its readiness to further examine the request of ECOWAS once additional information had been provided (UNSC, 2012, 8 June). The ECOWAS request entailed support for a Pan-African force around two key aspects of security partnership; legitimacy and convergence on resource exchange. In four or more subsequent meetings, the Council repeatedly asked for further clarification and technical planning documents regarding objectives, means and capabilities of the force (UNSC, 2012, 4 August).1 As a senior ECOWAS official observed in an interview with the author (Abuja, March 2019), this became the Council’s mantra and automatic response to Africa. The AU leadership persisted in vain for months for common ground with the Council. For example, in June 2012, the former president of Benin and Chairperson of the African Union, Boni Yayi, made a passionate appeal to the Security Council to support the AU’s 1 Participants in the meeting included the Secretary-General; the Commissioner for Political Affairs, Peace and Security of the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS), Salamatu Hussaini-Suleiman; the Permanent Observer of the African Union, Téte António; and the Permanent Representative of Mali, Oumar Daou. 115 decision to deploy the ECOWAS force, adding “I would be infinitely grateful if you could listen to the voice of [the] continent” (UNSC, 2012, 13 June) In addition, the President of the ECOWAS Commission, Kadré Désiré Ouédraogo, briefed the Security Council on 5 July, warning that every passing hour bore unimaginable risks to the political, security and humanitarian situations in Mali (UNSC, 2012, 5 July, 6798th meeting) In September 2012, both the President of the ECOWAS Commission (UNSC, 2012, 4 October)2 and the Malian authorities3 separately requested the Council to authorise the Pan-African force (UNSC, 2012, 1 October), only for the Council to again express its “readiness to consider a feasible and actionable proposal from ECOWAS” (UNSC, 2012, 11 December) These engagements demonstrate how difficult it is for AU/ECOWAS to obtain timely legitimacy for the intervention of African-led force from the Council. On resource exchange, the Security Council was concerned about costs implications for the Pan-African force, the African-led International Support Mission in Mali (AFISMA), which had been mobilised to assist the Armed Forces of Mali, acting under Chapter VII of the UN Charter, to recover the occupied regions of the north of Mali. In response, the Council requested the Secretary-General to immediately provide military and security planners to assist ECOWAS and the African Union so it can “respond to the request of the Transitional authorities of Mali regarding an international military force, including means and modalities of the envisaged deployment, in particular the concept of operations, force generation capabilities strength and support financial costs”, as provided for in resolution 2071 (UNSC, 2013, 10 July; see also UNSC, 2012, 12 October). In his letter to the Council, the UN SecretaryGeneral provided concrete options, including a start-up cost of USD $82 million for the 3,300 2 SeeHe outlined a three-phase approach to the deployment of the force to secure Bamako, help to restructure MDSF and help to restore the territorial integrity of Mali. 3 The interim President of the Republic of Mali, Dioncounda Traoré, and Prime Minister, Cheick Modibo Diarra, dispatched a joint letter to the Security Council requesting the adoption of a resolution by the Security Council, under Chapter VII of the United Nations Charter, authorizing the deployment of an international military force to Mali to assist the Malian army in restoring the territorial integrity of the country. 116 ECOWAS troops, but cautioned that the UN logistics system was not suited to support troops in active combat (UNSC, 2013, 10 July). It would seem that there was some goodwill in the Security Council to provide tangible support similar to the United Nations Support Office to AMISOM (UNSOA) (UNSC, 2012, 13 December) As it would become clearer, resource exchange is far more complicated than a simple supply-demand dyad. The privileged and ambivalent role of the P-3 is an important factor of Pan-African security partnership. They continue to hold great influence on African crises by virtue of their historical/colonial ties to the continent and the fact that they take the lead in drafting the resolutions in the Council as ‘pen-holders’. In the case of Mali, the US stonewalled the discussion on funding the Pan-African force and the MDSF chiefly because its congress would not allow security assistance to be given to unelected governments (Paul Williams interview with the author, Washington D.C., January 2019). Even the alarming blitzkrieg4 of the Islamists towards capital, Bamako, was not enough to build consensus in the Council; yet such ambivalence was not unusual because the vested interests of the permanent members often preclude them from quickly arriving at decisions with possible follow-on international actions (ICG, 2019). There was an emerging ‘Franco-American’ contest in the Security Council over African crises, where the French were pushing for more operational support and the Americans were less keen because of cost considerations. It was therefore not unusual for Susan Rice, former US Ambassador to the UN, to describe the French plan for Mali as “crap” (ICG, 2019, p. 9). These interactions with the Council were aptly described by an anonymous UN diplomat (interviewed by the Author, New York, January 2019) as nothing but “a test of wills.” The Special Envoy of the UN Secretary-General for the Sahel, Romano Prodi, also publicly favoured the American position. The UN Secretary-General was also sceptical about Blitzkrieg means “lightning war” in German, had its roots in earlier military strategy, including the influential work of the 19th-century Prussian general Carl von Clausewitz. 4 117 AFISMA’s readiness to undertake the apparently enormous task ahead (UNSG, 2012, 28 November). These did little to inspire confidence in the Pan-African force among Africans, particularly the Malians. As late as October 2012 the Council hesitated authorising coercive action and continued “to consider possible Security Council responses” to the calls by ECOWAS and Malian authorities to deploy a Pan-African force (UNSC, 2013, 21 January). Meanwhile, by November 2012, some 412,000 persons had been forced to flee their homes, including 208,000 refugees in Algeria, Burkina Faso, Guinea, Mauritania, the Niger and Togo, as well as an additional 204,000 individuals that had been internally displaced (Reliefweb, 2013). The exponential increase in the number of the refugees and internally displaced persons from 15,208 and 227, 206 in January to 174,129 and 300,183 respectively in June is illustrative of the humanitarian toll. The looming humanitarian catastrophe in northern Mali, including famine and collapse of the health system, forced hundreds of thousands of persons to flee their homes. The threat pattern had also become more complicated as foreign fighters and extreme insurgent groups had emerged, totalling some 3,000 fighters in northern Mali. As noted by the UN Secretary-General there had been human rights abuses, including an increase in executions, floggings and stonings (UNSG, 2012, 28 November). It may be useful to recall that a UN independent panel had reported that in a crisis “delay and inaction can mean the difference between life and death” (HIPPO, 2015, p. 24). Arguably, during the delay, the Islamists were emboldened, and paved the way for major human rights abuses to be committed. Consequently, the expression of doubts by key partners effectively paralysed the initial African-led efforts and stopped their momentum. According to General Hassan Lai, former Chief of Staff, ECOWAS Standby Force, the uncertainty cast doubt on the planning process, frustrated ECOWAS and later the AU, as well as convinced sceptics that the Council was only playing strategic games (Interview with author via Skype, Zaria, August 2019). This long delay would later be viewed by some as a deliberate tactic by France, which had the pen on the 118 resolution, to frustrate the African-led efforts and profit from ECOWAS’ ill-preparedness (Raheemat Momodu, interview with Author, Abuja, March 2019; and Gen Hassan Lai, 2019). Eventually, in December 2012, the Security Council adopted resolution 2085, authorizing the deployment of AFISMA, but without the much-needed and anticipated support package. Even as UN Security Council Resolution 2056 (2012) supported ECOWAS’ intervention, its resolutions 2017 (2012) and 2085 (2012) appeared to have encumbered ECOWAS with extensive human rights conditions. The prolonged diplomatic engagements only served to delay the force generation and the deployments, according to Cyriaque Agnekethom, ECOWAS Director of Peacekeeping and Security (interviews with Author, Abuja, March 2019; and Lai, 2019; and Momodou, 2019). Significant time was lost in triangulating operational plans with the UN Security Council, although during interviews with staff from the Headquarters of ECOWAS in Abuja (March 2019), it became apparent that some see the political benefit and international legitimacy as important dividends. However, given the humanitarian toll, the question is - at what cost? Ironically, what is at stake it is not the lack of interests of the members of the Council but a failure to make a decision for a coercive action. From July 2012-13 alone, the Council held 10 meetings, received 13 letters from African stakeholders through the Secretary-General, issued 3 Presidential statements, and adopted 4 Resolutions on the Mali crisis (UNSC, A/67/2, 2012; and A/68/2, 2013). 3.3.2. France as a wedge in Pan-African partnership As the former colonial power, France’s involvement in the Mali crisis was not unexpected. In fact, France never left its former colonies in Africa, save for Guinea. France’s geostrategic imperatives in Africa are anchored in the philosophy of la françafrique, which allows it to exercise extensive strategic ‘overlay’ in francophone Africa to dominate and influence the regional pattern of security (Buzan et al, 2003), while they, in turn, expect France 119 to protect them when needed. This makes France a wedge in the Pan-African security partnership, according to former Prime Minister of Ethiopia, Hailemariam Desalegn (interview with Author, Addis Ababa, March 2019). As a result, the scope and the manoeuvring of France’s role in the Mali crisis have raised questions. Alarmed by the deteriorating situation occasioned by the southward advance of a coalition of extremists, the Security Council met on 10 January 2013 to consider the crisis. It was at this meeting that France first announced it was considering the deployment of a military force in response to Malian request. Without any hesitation, the Council welcomed the French messianic role. France also received support from Presidents Mahamadou Issoufou of Niger, Macky Sall of Senegal and Alpha Condé of Guinea to intervene in Mali ahead of the planned ECOWAS deployment (Wyss, 2017). In addition to military force stationed in other parts of Africa, the French also had their gazelle helicopters stationed in Burkina Faso long before their deployment in Mali in 2013 (Oluwadare, 2014). France launched Operational Serval in January 2013 to stop the advance of the Islamist insurgents and contribute to stabilisation of the country. France was hailed by Mali, ECOWAS, AU and the UN for saving the situation in Mali. This is how France successfully dislodged ECOWAS/AU from becoming the first responder in Mali. However, as would be expected, the politics of the French intervention in Mali remains obfuscated in geostrategic theatrics, which will be discussed in Chapter 5. On balance, Operation Serval stopped the southward advance of Islamists in northern Mali in 2012 and the French have since helped to stabilise the country, although security in Mali remains tenuous. The August 2020 coup by army mutineers which toppled President Ibrahim Boubacar Keita is a testament of Mali’s instability (Appiah-Mensah, 2020). Operation Serval pushed the Islamists out of the main cities in the North in less than a month, clearing the way for AFISMA to deploy. However, due to chronic underfunding, the ill-equipped African-led force, AFISMA, was not about to deploy anytime soon (Souaré, 2016; Wyss, 120 2017). The French received logistical support from the US, UK, Germany, Canada and Denmark (Oluwadare, 2014). In particular, the US supported the French intervention by providing aerial refuelling and airlifting of Chadian troops from N’Djamena to Mali (Olsen, 2014). In turn, the French force provided airlift to AFISMA leadership to visit deployments in the area of operations, which was 1,200 km from the capital, Bamako (Souaré, 2016). Overall, Operation Serval was a successful military operation, although it left in its wake a significant trust deficit between France and ECOWAS/AU. ECOWAS is of the view that if the AU and the international community had supported its plan from the beginning it would have succeeded. Madam Salamatu Hussaini-Suleiman, former ECOWAS Commissioner for Political Affairs, Peace and Security argues that if Africans were not fighting each other, but instead had aligned their strategies, countries such as Algeria could have provided the much-needed strategic lift for the African contingents (Interview with Author, 2019). Moreover, the French intervention hurt partners’ commitment to supporting the Pan-African force (Chafer, 2014). 3.3.3. Key partners roll up their sleeves The lack of logistics and funding for AFISMA from the UN, resulted in a convergence over resource exchange between the AU/ECOWAS and other partners, where the Africans provided the boots on the ground and the partners the funding and logistics. The European Union is by far the biggest financial contributor to pan-African peacekeeping enterprise through its African Peace Facility (APF) established in 2004. To finance troop allowances in the African-led mission (AFISMA), the EU earmarked some €50 million, in addition to technical support given to ECOWAS to help manage the mission (Dicke, 2014). The APF normally cover salaries of African troops and police forces during African-led operations. However, in Mali, the EU deployed its mission, EU Training Mission (EUTM), at the 121 instigation of France and in response to requests from the UN Security Council and the Malian government to provide training and capacity-building support to the Mali Defence and Security Forces (UNSC, 2012, 12 October). The United States resisted ECOWAS military intervention in the Security Council because, they, just like the French, were not convinced the Pan-African mission would be feasible (Wyss, 2017). However, the US favoured and provided significant bilateral support to AFISMA troop-contributing countries, indeed they were the largest bilateral contributor to the African troops through the provision of training, donation of equipment, financial support and strategic airlift, which has nonetheless, been described as an unpredictable and unreliable way to support peace operations (HIPPO, 2015). 3.4. Continental sphere of influence 3.4.1. Working towards Strategic Coherence Coherence is the principle that guides foreign (strategic) policy, reflecting the degree of congruence between the AU and its member states (Koehler, 2010). When the Mali crisis erupted in early 2012, the Authority of the Heads of State (AHS) in ECOWAS issued a statement to condemn the occupation of northern Mali by the National Movement for the Liberation of Azawad (MNLA), sending a message of solidarity with the Malian people and reiterating the importance of maintaining the integrity of the Malian territory (ECOWAS, 2012). The AU and the UN concurred immediately thereafter, signifying unity among the international actors and legitimacy to the ECOWAS initiative. The Security Council issued press statements on the outcomes of some of their meetings (UNSC, 2012, 12 October; UNSC, 2012 18 June). Furthermore, ECOWAS took an uncompromising stand in 2012 against the military junta through a process of de-legitimation of the National Committee for Democracy 122 and Restoration of the State / Comité National de Redressement pour la Démocratie et la Restauration de l’Etat (CNRDRE). This also served as the rallying point for the international community, the AU and the UNSC, to demand a swift hand over to civilian administration and deny the coup leader, Captain Amadou Sanogo, the use of the title as a former head of state (Souaré, 2016; UNSG, 2012, 28 November). The three IOs unanimously expressed zerotolerance to unconstitutional change of government according to ECOWAS’ 2001 Supplementary Protocol on Democracy and Good Governance. The Council’s concurrence came as part of resolution 2071 (2012), demanding “that no member of the Malian Armed Forces should interfere in the work of the Transitional authorities, tak[ing] note of the decisions and recommendation by ECOWAS to adopt targeted sanctions in Mali and expresses its readiness to consider appropriate measures as necessary.” Furthermore, based on a joint ECOWAS, AU and UN fact-finding report, the ECOWAS Heads of State took several decisions on 27 March 2012 (ECOWAS, 2012, 27 March), including the suspension of Mali from all its organs and activities, holding the junta responsible to the security and safety of the deposed president, Amadou Toumani Touré (ATT), the immediate dispatch of a high-level delegation to Mali led by the Chairperson of the Authority of the ECOWAS Heads of State, President Alassane Ouattara of Côte d’Ivoire, and the appointment of President Blaise Compaoré of Burkina Faso as the ECOWAS mediator to engage the armed rebellion in Northern Mali, the government and other stakeholders (ECOWAS, 2012). The AU Peace and Security Council (PSC) also travelled to Bamako in March 2012 to assess the crisis and show solidarity with the government and the people of Mali (although the trip coincided with Sanogo’s coup and unfortunately some members got trapped there for a while) (UNSC 2012, 12 June). This diplomatic coherence among the IOs sent a strong message to the junta to hand-over power. Furthermore, the ECOWAS mediation, supported by the AU, continued to press for the political process, which resulted in the signing 123 of the April 2012 Framework Agreement for the restoration of constitutional order with the junta or CNRDRE. This collaboration, according to Hussaini-Sulieman and Agnekethom, (interviews with Author, Abuja, March 2019) paved the way for further installation of the interim Prime Minister and adoption in August 2012 of an inclusive national unity government for Mali (UNSG, 2012, 28 November). Meanwhile, another African-led initiative, the Support and Follow-up Group, established on 7 June 2012 helped to engage the neighbours, core countries (Algeria, Morocco and Mauritania) and other stakeholders in a process under the leadership of ECOWAS (AU, 2012). This allowed African conflicts to be understood through the African state system and its neighbours (Williams, 2016). The composition of the group was broadened to also ensure inclusivity. The Chair of the Group was rotated between the AU, ECOWAS and the United Nations (Souaré, 2016). In another show of solidarity and unity of effort, the AU and the ECOWAS unanimously condemned and prevented spoilers from derailing the political process when negative elements forced Prime Minister Modibo Diarra to resign in December 2012 (UNSC, 2012, 20 December). It is evident from this section that the Pan-African security partnership driven by patterns of amity can generate coherence among the IOs and facilitate Africa’s response to grave circumstances. 3.4.2. The duality of legal regimes Notwithstanding the initial coherence, the RECs/RMs face duality of loyalty or sovereignty chiefly because legal ambiguities remain in their normative frameworks vis-à-vis those of the AU. In the case of ECOWAS, the Revised ECOWAS Treaty (2010), the Protocol Relating to the Mechanism for Conflict Prevention, Management, Resolution, Peacekeeping and Security (The Mechanism, 1999), and the Supplementary Protocol on Democracy and 124 Good Governance (The Supplementary Protocol, 2001) constitute the normative frameworks underpinning the Community’s Peace and Security Architecture. The irony is that while ECOWAS member states are also members of the AU, its decisions rarely refer to the AU’s normative frameworks. According to Cyriaque Agnekethom: We have a mandate derived from ECOWAS protocols, not from the AU because of our unique historical setting. So, the legal basis for intervention remains the regional instrument (Interview with Author, Abuja, March 2019). Indeed, when the Authority of ECOWAS Heads of State authorized the ECOWAS mission in Mali (MICEMA), it did not refer to a single AU instrument, not even the groundbreaking Article 4(h) of the CAAU. In paragraph 25 of the Final Communique of the 41st Ordinary Session of the ECOWAS Heads of State and Government, held in June 2012, the Authority decided: to fast-track the deployment of the ECOWAS Standby Force Mission in Mali (MICEMA) under the mandate already adopted by Authority and in line with Article 25 of the [ECOWAS] Protocol Relating to the Mechanism for Conflict Prevention, Management, Resolution, Peacekeeping and Security (ECOWAS, 2012). Nevertheless, Article 26 of the ECOWAS Protocol recognises the AU and the UN as sources of authority that can request its mechanism to be initiated. Some may, therefore, argue that there is no substantive legal gap between the two regimes, even though a legal gap exists, 125 or at minimum, a compliance gap. This thesis argues that the first step to harmonising the working relations between both the AU and ECOWAS is to address this lacuna. Otherwise, the tale of two legal regimes will continue to cause false starts and create friction in the Pan-African security partnership. 3.4.3. Slipping into Strategic dissonance The rejection by the UN Security Council (with France as the penholder) of two successive concepts of operations from ECOWAS raised credibility issues and the reluctance of partners to commit to a military deployment whose future was unknown. The ambivalence from the Security Council may also have emboldened the armed groups to accelerate their advance towards the south, according to the data collected for this thesis (various informants, interviews with Author, Abuja, March 2019). On top of this, as Hassan Lai indicated (interview with Author, Abuja, March 2019), ECOWAS military planners were concerned that their plans would be made public and the element of surprise would be lost in what was essentially warfighting. This is the risk and the tragedy associated with international collaboration, solicitation and scrutiny when an entity requires the authorisation (legitimacy) and funding for military intervention from the Security Council. Arguably, an early ECOWAS deployment around July 2012 could have made the French intervention unnecessary (Brosig, 2015). This then raises a question whether a selfsufficient AU or REC/RM would have been able to defy the politics of the Security Council and intervene militarily at the earliest opportunity to stabilise Mali. For ECOWAS this would have been a familiar pattern as its interventions in Liberia and Sierra Leone in the 1990s (where they forcefully deployed to Liberia and Sierra Leone to avert war crimes and violations of human rights without mandate from the UN Security Council), served as inspiration for the drafters of the 2000 Constitutive Act of the African Union (CAAU). 126 In hindsight, the semblance of strategic coherence among ECOWAS, the AU and to an extent, the UN, was shrouded in mutual suspicion, tensions and sabotage at the highest level.5 ECOWAS and the AU were pursuing divergent agendas as they contested the leadership or ownership of the conflict resolution efforts, which was also apparent in the frequent use of ‘African-led’ in place of ECOWAS-led efforts in AU PSC communiqués (African Union, 2012).6 ECOWAS was also not backing down on its lead role. As Hussaini-Suleiman insists, ECOWAS deserves to lead on crises in the region, not least because it has a good track record Interview with Author, 2019). In paragraph 10 of ECOWAS’ Final Communiqué of 11 November 2012 addressed to the AUPSC, it noted the following: [ECOWAS] Authority… stresses the leadership role of ECOWAS in the deployment of the African-led international force and with regard to the command of the force and resource mobilization, in close cooperation with the African Union and the United Nations (emphasis added). The obvious question is, if there were no lingering issues, why would ECOWAS have to stress its leadership role in the communiqué? On its part, and for the avoidance of doubt, on 12 June 2012, the AU PSC explicitly mandated ECOWAS operations based on the provisions of Article 16 of the PSC Protocol and the 2008 MoU in its communique (AU, 2012, 6 February). By invoking the principle of subsidiarity, the AU reinforced its authority and lead role. However, that did not trigger an automatic AU take over even though the AU PSC mandate authorized ECOWAS to collaborate with the core countries, namely Algeria, Mauritania, and 5 Researcher’s personal observation through participation in the process in Africa and New York respectively from early 2012 to 2013. Corroborated by interviews I conducted in Addis Ababa and Abuja in February-March 2019. 6 Interview, several ECOWAS informants, March 2019, Abuja. Several participants believe the frequent use of ‘African-led’ was not just to show African solidarity but a subtle way of saying authority resides at the continental body. 127 Niger, which lie outside the latter’s jurisdiction. ECOWAS would have had no issues with such a transfer of power to AU because according to Hussaini-Suleiman “The RECs have always looked up to the AU to provide leadership and cooperation in handling issues such as terrorism and cross-border threats” (interview with Author, 2019). Meanwhile, if there was any doubt about the leadership tussle over Mali, the chairperson of the AU, Dr Nkosazana Dlamini-Zuma, could not be blunter in her justification for the AU’s involvement in the crisis on the eve of her visit to Mali in October 2012: The Malian crisis is a crisis that goes beyond the region and it has a potential of spreading to the whole region if it is not managed, and even to the rest of the continent. So, it’s a very important issue that we must get our teeth into... We had a discussion when I was in New York (in September) with the Malians, together with the AUC Commissioner for Peace and Security, and we agreed that the crisis is such that the African Union must play a more active role (AU, 2012, 17 October). This Chairperson’s statement was legitimated through the PSC communique of November 2012 which requested the Chairperson of the AUC to consult with ECOWAS, within the framework of APSA, to establish the command and control of AFISMA, “particularly the appointment of the main officials of the Mission, including the Special Representative” (AU, 2012, 13 November). This was to be expedited in two weeks. Given that Dlamini-Zuma came to power through the most rancorous elections in AU’s history,7 her 7 Against the backdrop of political jostling, name calling and bickering between Dlamini-Zuma and the incumbent, Jean Ping, the first round of elections at the summit in 2012 produced no winner. South Africa came with a lot of baggage. It should be recalled that in 2011, South Africa was on the wrong side of history when the whole continent backed the African Union’s and ECOWAS’s demand that Côte d’Ivoire President Laurent Gbagbo cede power to Alassane Ouattara after a disputed election. In addition, South Africa’s handling of the Libya fallout hurt her chances in the first round. 128 remarks raise questions about the much-vaunted ‘African-led’ efforts that ECOWAS was authorised to lead in June 2012. Nonetheless, the June PSC Communique recognised ECOWAS leadership and authorised it “to put in place the required military and security arrangements” (AU, 2012, 12 June). While several reasons may account for the Chairperson’s comments and the shift in PSC position on ECOWAS’ lead, the selection of the mission senior leadership would be the real test for the AU-ECOWAS partnership. To start with ECOWAS was not consulted on the appointment by the Chairperson of the AU in January 2013 of President Pierre Buyoya as the Special Representative and Ambassador Cheaka Touré of Togo, until then the ECOWAS Special Representative in Mali, as Deputy Head of Mission (AU, 2012). The AU allegedly hurriedly made these appointments in order not to give ECOWAS any room for negotiations. Thus, due to mistrust, there were no good-faith consultations before the decision. ECOWAS felt betrayed by the turn of events, not least because it had hoped its Special Representative in Mali, Touré, would be confirmed to lead AFISMA. This tension eventually brewed over, translating into in-theatre dramas, parallel reporting, and inefficiencies in AFISMA leadership (Gen Lai, interview with Author, 2019). Again, unbeknownst to ECOWAS, the AU connived with the UN to appoint General Jean Bosco Kazura of Rwanda as the Force Commander to replace General Shehu Usman Abdulkadir of Nigeria in the UN successor mission, MINUSMA, raising the stakes even higher. Consequently, Nigeria, which was upset by these developments, withdrew its troops from Mali. This is one of the low points in AFISMA’s history as it further exposed the deep divisions on the continent exacerbated by the principle of subsidiarity and high politics. However, as noted by Hussaini-Suleiman, “it gave me an opportunity to test the African Peace and Security Architecture and I think at the end of the day a very good verdict was rendered.” In her view, ECOWAS should have been allowed to lead on issues of the region (interview with Author, 2019). 129 Another twist to the Pan-African security partnership emerged as AU and France, while ostensibly collaborating with ECOWAS, designed individual contingencies to edge out ECOWAS from the leadership role (ECOWAS, 2014; Momodou, interview with Author, 2019). In the end, France outwitted them both. ECOWAS was furious and began discussing the establishment of its permanent presence in New York accredited to the UN so it can do better lobbying in the Security Council (ECOWAS, 2014). The unhealthy competition for leadership is further elaborated in the separate engagements with the UN by ECOWAS and the AU (Momodou, interview with Author, 2019) The UN Secretary-General received two separate correspondences from the AU and the ECOWAS on the Mali crisis (UNSC, 2012, 10 April), including the future of the African-led Support Mission in Mali (AFISMA) as captured succinctly in the UN Security Council resolution 2085 (2012).8 This was yet another sign of strategic dissonance and de-legitimation of the principle of subsidiarity itself. Even after the deployment, Africans were split over AFISMA on several fronts. In 2013, while ECOWAS was calling on the UN to support the force, the interim administration in Mali lobbied for a quick transition to a UN-led operation. Furthermore, the AU lobbied the EU not to support ECOWAS with funds and resources because that would be ‘stupid’ and a ‘stab in the back of AU,’ according to an AU Partner interviewed for this thesis (anon. interview with Author, Addis Ababa, March 2019)’. These tensions and strategic manoeuvring led some to argue that from the onset, that the AU had been conspiring with France to take over the mission leadership from ECOWAS and that it was a mistake for the latter to work through the AU (Julie Sanda and Gani Yoroms, interviews with Author, Abuja, March 2019; and 8 Taking note of the letter dated 26 March 2013, addressed to the Secretary-General by the President of the ECOWAS Commission requesting the transformation of AFISMA into a United Nations stabilization mission and taking note of the communiqué, dated 7 March 2013, of the AU Peace and Security Council, as well as the attached letter dated 7 March 2013 and addressed to the Secretary-General by the AU Commissioner for Peace and Security, expressing AU support for the transformation of AFISMA into a United Nations stabilization operation in Mali. 130 interviews with Momodu, 2019; Lai, 2019). Unfortunately, these tensions dragged on throughout ECOWAS engagement in Mali (Souaré, 2016; Wyss, 2017). ECOWAS accused the AU of handling subsidiarity as a subordination principle (ECOWAS, 2014), while the AU also perceived ECOWAS as being ‘arrogant’ (Agnekethom, interview with Author, 2019). Thus, the handling of the Mali crisis by ECOWAS and the AU became increasingly characterised by ‘arrogance-subordination’ dyads, which are “patterns of amity and enmity” that are determined, to a large extent, by actions and interpretations of the actors (Buzan & Wæver, 2003, p. 40). Importantly, the consistent strain on the subsidiarity aspect of PanAfrican security partnership entrenched an ‘“us versus them’” mentality in African security governance during the crisis. On the mediation, ECOWAS followed the lead of President Blaise Compaoré as the ECOWAS Mediator and President Goodluck Jonathan as the Associate Mediator (ECOWAS, 2012). At the same time, the AU appointed former president of Burundi, Pierre Buyoya, as the AU Chairperson’s Special Representative for the Sahel and Mali in October 2013, which it is argued here was not necessary as ECOWAS already had a sitting head of state whose mandate could have been expanded to engage the region, as part of the African-led efforts (Lai, interview, 2019). A close observer of the work of the ECOWAS Mediation also saw the deep ‘penetration’ of France in the agenda-setting, the discussions and the outcome (Buzan & Wæver, 2003; Lai, interview, 2019). Most meetings were hurriedly put together only to announce decisions that have already been made without the knowledge of the Associate Mediator, President Goodluck Jonathan of Nigeria, who for diplomatic reasons would concur and go along with the supposed outcome (Lai, interview 2019). However, the trust issue goes both ways given that President Jonathan volunteered to be part of the mediation (ECOWAS, 2012, 26 April); it is highly plausible that France and President Compaoré would look at him with suspicion. The line-up of leaders in West Africa at the time also served France’s interests 131 very well. President Alassane Ouattara as ECOWAS Chairman, President Compaoré as the chief mediator and Kadre Ouedrago (former protégé of Compaoré) as ECOWAS President constituted the dream team that France could have ever hoped for (Oluwadare, 2014). This evidence is illustrative of how the epochal impact of imperial/colonial regional complex can still be used as a divisive tool by France to counter Pan-African security partnership and coherence. 3.4.4. African Union enhances capacity The situation is not all negative, as AFISMA provided a unique opportunity for the AU to build institutional capacity and convene its first-ever pledging conference. In 2013, the AU established the Mali Integrated Task Force (MITF) based on UN best practice. The United Nations Office to the African Union (UNOAU) availed expertise in situ to develop its terms of reference, plan of action and matrix on implementation strategy of the relevant AU communiqué and UN resolutions (these UN advisors were key facilitators for PSOD on the MITF). Chaired by the AU Peace Support Operations Division (PSOD), it composed of representatives of relevant AU departments, ECOWAS and the United Nations. Providing strategic level coordination mechanism for AFISMA, it became the one-stop-shop for AFISMA deployment issues. Though somewhat apprehensive at the beginning, representatives of other AU departments later became very active participants and drawing extensively on the expertise of both UN and PSOD to deploy and manage its staff in the field. It was undoubtedly one of the best developments to have taken place at the AU Commission, as remarked by Olabisi Dare, acting director of AU political affairs department in 2013, as it led to enhanced inter-department interaction of the staff, which hitherto was non-existent. Even with this development, from this author’s personal observation and experience the initial deployment of 132 human rights experts to Mali by Department of Political Affairs (DPA) was not coordinated with Department of Peace and Security (PSD), leading to chaotic results on the ground. As Security Council resolution 2085 (2012) only supported voluntary contributions, bilateral support and the establishment of a UN Trust Fund,9 AFISMA faced a bleak future beyond 90 days. Accordingly, ECOWAS member states became highly risk-averse and some of them held back on the 90 days’ supply. The psychological effect of international ambivalence on the morale of troops in combat and armed groups in Mali is unfathomable. The troops were demoralised and discouraged before they had the chance to deploy in theatre (Hassan Lai, interview with Author, August 2016). To confront this challenge head-on, the AU convened the first-ever pledging conference for peace support operations in Addis Ababa in 2013, and it is noteworthy that the UNOAU, Addis Ababa, helped to initiate, plan and convene the conference. The Trust Fund yielded more than USD 45 million in pledges, out of which only a third was redeemed (African Union, 2012; Souaré, 2016). In parallel, the UN opened a second Trust Fund for AFISMA, complicating disbursement as the UN refused to release the funds for AFISMA due to its imminent transition to UN operation, MINUSMA (Souaré, 2016; Secretary-General, 2015). However, in a twist of events, the AU failed to share funds accrued from the pledging conference with ECOWAS, which formed the bulk of the troops, a conduct that was characteristically un-African (Momodou, interview, 2019). ECOWAS was even more upset that the AU kept contributions from its member states to the Fund, such as Ghana’s USD $3 million (Agnekethom, interview with Author, 2019; and for amounts pledged, see Maru, 2013). Nevertheless, the fact that Africans generated the funds domestically for the first time made it a good experience for the AU. In addition, the UN Trust Fund set up to support AFISMA only became operationalised after the African-led operation was liquidated (UNSG, 9 The Secretary-General established a trust fund through which member states would provide earmarked and/or non-earmarked financial support to AFISMA and/or to the training and equipping of Malian Defence and Security Forces. Security Council resolution 2085 created a confusion that led to the establishment of a second trust fund by the AU. Both trust funds depended on the generosity of the same member states. 133 2015, 2 January). Meanwhile, other partners such as the US government stepped up bilateral support to supply troops with petroleum products and rations (Souaré, 2016), but this may have been too little too late. 3.4.5. Voice of the Malian People ECOWAS simultaneously suffered from a lack of internal cohesion as Malians openly objected to ECOWAS military intervention from the onset. The population went on a demonstration to express their disagreement (UNSG, 2012, 28 November). In theory, strategic culture may be governed by what Al-Rodhan (2015, p. 3) calls ‘emotionality of states’ (national pride and prestige) and the ‘egoism of states’ (the pursuit of national interests). Prime Minister Modibo Diarra explained the objection was based on national pride, sovereignty and the fear of recrimination targeting the coup-makers (UNSG, 2012, 28 November). Besides this official position, some practitioners want to know what triggered that negative reaction from the population, ex post facto. The predominant view is that the sympathisers of the military junta were behind this move as they feared ECOWAS’ swift condemnation of the regime may lead to international action against them. It is instructive to note that ECOWAS was not the only target of this political mudslinging. The obstructionists supported a violent mob-attack on the Interim President on 21 May 2012, openly incited civil disobedience and violence from the military, as well as negative propaganda from a cross-section of the media (ECOWAS, 2012, June). This incident makes the local constituency all the more important for security studies and for Pan-African interventions. The external partners such as the United States, Algeria, Morocco thought ECOWAS was moving too quickly, too soon on the military track (Souaré, 2016), therefore, there could also be exogenous factors stirring the population. In the era of violent extremism, the old classic battle of winning hearts and minds has become central to strategic decision-making. During an 134 interview for this research, General Hassan Lai argued that if the Malian population had continued their objection, it would have been foolhardy for ECOWAS to proceed with the deployment as the force would not only be fighting the extremists but also a hostile population. 3.5. Operational sphere of influence 3.5.1. ECOWAS initiates planning for peace enforcement ECOWAS convened the first planning meeting on Mali in Abidjan, Cote d’Ivoire, in the margins of the meeting of the Chiefs of the Defence Staff from 11-15 June 2012. The meeting drew participants from the United Nations and several international partners, except the AU which was conspicuously absent. The AU later explained to this author’s personal follow-ups at the AUPSD, that its planners could not participate due to administrative lapses. While it was critical for the AU’s early involvement, this thesis argues that the ECOWAS-AU tensions over ownership contributed to the AU’s failure to send planners to Abidjan. The conference yielded a three-phased approach for addressing Mali’s security crisis. This plan and subsequent iterations would later be the basis for ECOWAS and the AU to seek a Security Council mandate to deploy the proposed ECOWAS Mission in Mali (MICEMA) of about 3,000 troops (UNSC, 2012, 13 December). ECOWAS called for a second planning conference in Bamako from 9 to 13 August 2012, under the joint AU-ECOWAS leadership, in close consultation with the Malian authorities, with participants from the EU, Algeria, Canada, France, Germany, Mauritania, Niger, Nigeria, US and UN. Some 104 experts were involved in this planning exercise (and this was later validated by a third conference in Bamako, 29 October – 5 November 2012, when Chad joined AFISMA). Following these engagements, both the Transitional authority of Mali and ECOWAS requested Security Council authorization for the deployment of an international 135 military force to assist the Armed Forces of Mali, acting under Chapter VII of the UN Charter, to recover the occupied regions of the north of Mali. The Security Council resolution 2071 requested the Secretary-General to “immediately provide military and security planners” to assist ECOWAS and the AU, in close consultation with the authorities in Mali and the neighbouring countries, on the plan.” This paved the way for the United Nations Office to the African Union (UNOAU) to further assist ECOWAS and the AU in the joint planning efforts. This researcher personally led a team from UNOAU which was not constrained by the interdepartmental rivalry at the UN Secretariat. A harmonised joint concept of operations was developed, aligning at the strategic level, the separate plan of the Malian defence and security forces with the proposed international military force. 3.5.1.1. What’s in a name? While the AU and ECOWAS jointly led the Bamako planning conference, the crisis itself was not managed jointly from the outset. Things came to a head when the leadership group of the planning conference was stuck because of different positions over the name of the mission. ECOWAS, which had already named its mission the ECOWAS Mission in Mali (MICEMA), did not see any reason for a change but the AU and the Malian delegation, argued strongly that ECOWAS could not retain its name on the mission as the scope and participation had been widened to cover the entire continent. For two working days, as this author recalls, there was no planning and no progress on the way forward, and thus explored opportunities to assist, but faced resistance from some UN colleagues who argued, appropriately, that Africans should resolve their own issues. Eventually, drawing upon his African identity, this author devised a name for the mission, the African-led International Support Mission in Mali (AFISMA), which was welcomed by both parties and the Malian authorities for different reasons. In the case of Mali, two things about perception happened. For the AU, the appearance 136 of ‘African-led’ was a victory as it put them in the driver’s seat but for ECOWAS and the Malians the catch was in the French translation of AFISMA, Mission International de Soutien au Mali sous leadership Africain (MISMA), which sounded very much like the previous name ECOWAS had proposed, MICEMA (ECOWAS Mission in Mali). This sheer coincidence worked a ‘miracle’ that was to move us beyond the standoff. What is in a name? The ‘S’ in AFISMA stands for Support and it was carefully chosen for what we thought the mission would be assigned to do.10 Thus, the harmonised concept envisaged only a supporting role for the AFISMA. To put it in context, it is important to mention that the planners only started to make progress on the development of the harmonised concept after this hurdle was removed. We may have drawn inspiration from Darfur, where Kofi Annan, former UN Secretary-General and Alphar Konaré, Chairperson of the AU, ended the stalemate over re-hatting the AU forces in Sudan in 2006 by initiating series of meetings that led to the establishment of an AU-UN Hybrid Mission (UNAMID), which recognised the ‘African character’ of the mission and its leadership (UNSC, 2006, 28 December). Sarjoh Bah, a senior AU official, noted during an interview (in Addis Ababa, March 2019) that UNAMID was a classic example of AU-UN collaboration and “the acme of African Personality.” This evidence demonstrates that coherence in bureaucratic collaborations can have positive effect on security partnership and strategic behaviours. 3.5.1.2. Deployment in Mali By design, AFISMA was not a traditional peacekeeping exercise. The harmonised concept envisaged dual reporting lines for the joint military operational command of AFISMA; one for the Mali Defence and Security Force (MDSF) and the other for the international force. 10 By privileging my experience from the UN headquarters about how penholders in the UN Security Council christen UN missions globally, in close coordination with the Secretariat; my knack for acronyms came handy in Bamako. 137 Both of them would report to the Malian Joint Chief of Staff and an AU-appointed Special Representative for AFISMA. Because of this complicated arrangement, the plan recommended the establishment of a ‘joint coordination mechanism’ comprising the defence ministers of Mali, ECOWAS troop contributing countries, Algeria, Mauritania and Niger, to support the office of the Special Representative (Security Council Report, 2012). In-theatre coordination was a nightmare as it was characterised by mutual suspicion between AU and ECOWAS mission headquarters, hamstringing any chance of mission-level coordination and cohesion (Souaré, 2016; Wyss, 2017; Lai, interview, 2019). Both the Special Representative and his deputy reported to their respective Commissions, creating a situation where both organisations were not sharing information and resources (Lai, interview, 2019). They became competitors in the field instead of collaborating with one another. General Hassan Lai recalled during an interview with the author that while the AU-supported staff had operational vehicles purchased from the Mali Trust Fund (generated through the Pledging Conference), the Force Commander, who was an ECOWAS appointee, conducted military operations in hired taxi, literally crippling command and control. Paradoxically, the AU promoted an ‘apartheid’ system in AFISMA, where (dis)loyalties and priorities were contested. The deployment of the Chadian contingent as part of AFISMA at the behest of France also added to the bureaucratic complexity. Indeed, this added to the ‘multiple and uncoordinated deployments’ of AFISMA, Operation Serval (France), the EU Training Mission (orchestrated by France) and the Malian Defence Security Force (MDSF) (ECOWAS, 2014). Wittingly, the Chadians were brought in by France and the AU to ‘neutralise’ the ECOWAS (Nigeria) domination of the military operations (Lai, interview, 2019). From the onset, and from this researcher’s personal reflections, strategic and operational planners underscored the imperative for international support, funding and resources for MICEMA/AFISMA to be operationalised. So, when it became clear that the door 138 to the UN direct support package had been closed, it also stifled the flow of support from partners because usually, they gauge their support for peace operations from the Security Council’s decisions. As a result, the planners assessed that African contingents would be able to sustain themselves for an initial period of 90 days. However, Security Council resolution 2085 (2012) only supported voluntary contributions, bilateral support and the establishment of a UN Trust Fund,11 providing a bleak future of the force beyond the 90 days. The UN Trust Fund for AFISMA generated USD $ 26.7 million (Oluwadare, 2014), but AFISMA never benefitted from it. Concerned about the capability gaps in AFISMA, the Security Council in June 2013 gave AFISMA four months to reach UN standards (Security Council Report, 2013). Notwithstanding, AFISMA was a success considering its broad mandate, challenges, resources and capabilities, as well as the clean human rights record. AFISMA deployed some 5,146 troops (67 percent of the authorised force) from Benin, Burkina Faso, Chad, Nigeria, Senegal, and Togo within three weeks of the adoption of resolution 2085. However, from General Abdulkadir’s remarks at the 2017 MPOME First Regional Workshop, it became apparent that the ‘hastiness of this deployment’ meant the troops also came ill-prepared and ill-equipped (LeBrun, 2017). While AFISMA has been criticised for being either too slow or ill-equipped to respond to the threat in Mali (Chafer, 2014), this has to be contextualised as the Malian Defence and Security Force (MDSF), which AFISMA was to support, was never equipped by partners as envisaged, and was rapidly disintegrating. Furthermore, in a conversation with the Sanogo-appointed Chief of Defence Staff, Colonel Dambele, in Abidjan in 2012, this researcher gathered that Malian security forces were abandoning their posts in the north because of the lack of ammunition and basic supplies. 11 The Secretary-General established a trust fund through which member states would provide earmarked and/or non-earmarked financial support to AFISMA and/or to the training and equipping of Malian Defence and Security Forces. Security Council Resolution 2085 created a confusion that led to the establishment of a second trust fund by the AU. Both trust funds depended on the generosity of the same member states. 139 A force generation problem that ECOWAS faced was that pledged troops were just that — pledged troops. It was difficult to count on their availability when needed, as indicated by General Hassan (interview, 2019). For example, Mali had pledged both combat engineering and transport units to the ECOWAS Standby Force (ESF), but as it was now the country in crisis, this became a capability gap (Hassan, interview, 2019). If the AU/ECOWAS is to stop this from recurring, they should explore the idea of ‘shadow or preferential pledges’ (an idea that emerged from this researcher’s conversation with an anonymous practitioner in Addis Ababa in March 2019, as it allows flexibility, predictability and more confidence in the force generation process), where countries pledge more than one capability in order of preference within a REC/RM or request another REC/RM to use its pledges as shadow capacity for each other. This may be one way of seeing the crisis as a truly African problem, drawing on available capabilities on the continent. Meanwhile, in response to Africa’s ‘humiliation’ in Mali (Esmenjaud, 2014), some AU member states established the African Capacity for Immediate Response to Crisis (ACIRC). Its adherents believe it has better prospects than the ASF, which has become a ‘European project with African participation.’12 Whether ACIRC delegitimises the ASF, in the long run, remains an open question. Eventually, the AU Assembly decided to integrate ACIRC into the ASF framework and requested the ACIRC wind down by June 2020 (African Union, 2020). 3.6. Conclusion The crisis in Mali reified the strategic importance of the UN Security Council, France, the EU, US and other external actors within an emerging African Peace and Security 12 Advocates of ACIRC are largely pan-Africanists who argue against any kind of external military intervention in Africa and urge member states to voluntarily contribute capabilities and resources to deploy anywhere on the continent when duty calls, regardless of the jurisdictions of RECs. 140 Architecture complex. The need for legitimacy of the African-led intervention vis-à-vis the scarcity of resources demonstrated the unpredictability of the convergence of the actors at the global geostrategic sphere of influence (Brosig, 2015). Repeated requests from the AU and ECOWAS to deploy a Pan-African force in Mali received repeated rejections from the Council, asking for further refinements of the strategic concepts. Beyond the usual wrangling over respective national interests in the region, members of the P-3, particularly, France and US, clashed over the financial implications versus operational expediency. Indeed, there was no lack of engagement by the Council, but the test of wills resulted in its dilatory response. France reasserted its position as a wedge in intra-African relationships and a continental great power by successfully deploying Operation Serval, at ECOWAS expense, to stop the advance of the militants. Eventually, Operation Serval served as a bridging force for AFISMA’s short deployment in Mali. The continental sphere of influence demonstrated the Pan-African high politics that were manifested in the interactions between the mandating bodies, the AU and ECOWAS, member states and key leaders. First, there were significant areas of convergence where ECOWAS and AU, and sometimes, the UN, worked well to bring political pressure on the Malian actors, particularly the junta. They issued statements and undertook joint missions to show solidarity in their ranks. Nonetheless, it also highlighted that duality of legal regimes, ownership or leadership turf battles, collusion with partners and mistrust, allowed policy dissonance on the Mali crisis to eventuate and create serious tensions among the Pan-African actors. As things came to a head, cracks began to show at the strategic level with each organisation pursuing a largely ‘self-interested’ agenda. These were clear patterns of amity and enmity, sometimes exacerbated by the deep ‘penetration’ of France (Buzan & Wæver, 2003), undermining regional cohesion. Attempts to force down the principle of subsidiarity created a subordination-arrogance dyad between the AU and ECOWAS, ruining relationships further 141 and down to the operational level. By rejecting the Pan-African intervention, the people of Mali brought to the fore the importance of the voice of ordinary Africans in Pan-African security partnership, which has hitherto been muted. The translation of political decisions of the mandating bodies, here UN, AU and ECOWAS, were manifested at the operational level in Mali. This is where the evidence of the international response can best be gauged because it is manifested through concrete action such as the deployment of troops, military hardware, humanitarian assistance, and the protection of civilians. However, in Mali, that took a long time in coming so the strategic planners filled this void for a while and produced several strategic concepts for the consideration of the Security Council. Yet, while the bureaucrats were doing their bit, including launching the African-led mission, the Council was not forthcoming, and when it eventually adopted the resolution it lacked the resources for AFISMA to deploy. This paved the way for the French force, Operation Serval, to play a strategic and messianic role in stopping the advance of the militants towards the capital, and, also provided support to AFISMA to deploy in-theatre as deemed necessary. Furthermore, the establishment of two trust funds, one by the UN and the other by the AU, did not help matters in any way as neither of them provided direct benefit to AFISMA until its liquidation. All told, despite the initial coherence on the political track, geostrategic interactions with Pan-African institutions on military deployment left a sour taste, patron-client feeling and general distrust in the broadly triangular partnership. Overall, several factors, including principle of subsidiarity, undermined Pan-African security partnership in Mali, resulting in what has come to be known as ‘Africa’s year of shame’. 142 Chapter 4: Case Study 2 - Response to the Central African Republic (2013-14) The swift deployment of…MISCA was critical to the international community’s efforts to protect civilians…It also paved the way for a smooth transfer of authority to…MINUSCA. - Ban Ki-moon, United Nations Secretary-General (2007-16). (UNSC, 2015, 5 January) 4.1. Introduction Coming barely one year after the Mali crisis, the resurgence of violence in CAR in 2013 offered another opportunity to re-set international relationships and test partnerships within the APSA. The disastrous Pan-African security partnership in Mali from 2012-13 compelled some African leaders to look elsewhere for alternative solutions (Esmenjaud, 2014). They established the African Capacity for Immediate Response to Crisis (ACIRC) to reverse the sense of failure and ‘humiliation’ for the continent’s inability to intervene robustly in Mali and to address long delays associated with mobilising pledged troops for the African Standby Force (ASF). Against this backdrop, the crisis in the CAR required different approaches to PanAfrican security partnership. The CAR situation was very unique. Within a space of one year, there had been two major operational transitions; from the Economic Community of Central African States (ECCAS) Mission for the Consolidation of Peace in the Central African Republic (MICOPAX) to the African-led International Support Mission in the Central African Republic (MISCA), and then from MISCA to the United Nations Stabilisation Mission the Central African Republic (MINUSMA). Focusing on these two transitions of peace support operations, this chapter explores how Pan-African security partnership influenced the international (Pan-African) response to 143 the grave circumstances in CAR. This is the second of the two chapters that provide empirical evidence of inadequate Pan-African responses to grave circumstances (third sub-question of thesis). Consistent with the previous chapter, this chapter adopts the analytical separation of global geostrategic, continental and operational spheres of influence. The chapter begins with a short background to provide context for the situation in the CAR that necessitated the interventions and subsequently the operational transitions. Importantly, it posits that the transitions could only be understood through the strategic context of the time and within the prevailing Pan-African security partnership. There was a sense of a Mali ‘hangover’ that some leaders and practitioners wanted to change to avoid the Mali trap. This chapter details how ‘Africa’s year of shame’ or the humiliation in Mali became a blessing for the Pan-African response to CAR. It energised Africans, including some bureaucrats in the AU and UN, to approach the transitions in the CAR differently. At the global geostrategic sphere of influence, this thesis assesses how powerful actors such as the Security Council, especially the P-3, were dilatory in their response. Introduction of innovative elements of Security Council Resolution 2149 (the ‘transition bible’) facilitated collaboration of bureaucrats from the IOs. The section provides a short analysis of a mosaic of international actors in the security arena, beginning with the French force, Opération Sangaris, and later the EU force, EUFOR-CAR, a majority of whom were French soldiers. The early intervention of Sangaris helped to bolster the Pan-African force, MICOPAX/MISCA and paved the way for the follow-on UN peacekeeping mission. The continental sphere illustrates intensive political and bureaucratic interactions at both the African Union (AU) and the Economic Community of Central African States (ECCAS) levels over the CAR crisis. In particular, high politics, patterns of amity and enmity, and the (mis)interpretation of the principle of subsidiarity defined the relationships. Matters relating to the effectiveness, success factors, and challenges of these military footprints in the 144 CAR are beyond the scope of this chapter. The complementary role of bureaucrats at the operational sphere of influence is very noticeable in Pan-African security partnership. To the extent that their partnership influences decision-making at the Security Council and collaboration in the field, this is indeed critical area for International Relations and security studies. This chapter brings out vivid examples of this type of engagement. 4.2. Context to the CAR crisis 4.2.1. Historical background The Central African Republic (CAR) is a landlocked country with over 4.6 million people and a former French colony (see Figure 4.1). Since colonial rule, a central government had never extended state authority to its remote and sparsely populated areas (Arieff, 2014). CAR gained independence in 1960, suffered its first coup d’état in 1966, and has since replaced four of its seven leaders through military take-overs. Recurring military adventurism is a harbinger for both peace and conflicts in CAR. Scholars say it is both “a symptom and a cause of structural issues that have plagued the country for decades” (Cinq-Mars, 2015, p. 6). Years of misrule, bad governance, tribal politics, marginalisation and lately, religious dissent, foment successive rebellions from the northern parts of the country. Over the years, the country has produced a long list of serial warlords. Despite being endowed with natural resources, successive leaders of CAR have not used the country’s wealth for the common good. For example, its second president, Jean-Bedel Bokassa, who came to power in 1966 through a military coup, was obsessed with two things; all things French and grandiose titles. Having served as an officer in the French army, his obsession with Napoleon Bonaparte inspired him to declare himself an emperor in 1977 (Titley, 1997). His grand coronation cost almost $30 million, about a quarter 145 of CAR’s annual budget, setting the stage for the country’s descent into perpetual political and economic crisis. FIGURE 4. 1 MAP OF CENTRAL AFRICAN REPUBLIC Source: Mapsland.com, 2020 Former army chief of staff, General François Bozizé, who also came to power through a military coup in 2003, failed to address the negative consequences of colonialism and some of the injustices that have stunted development and progress in the CAR (Welz, 2014). Instead, he presided over a decaying government that some referred to as a ‘phantom state’ due to the predatory nature of governance (Cinq-Mars, 2015). Under Bozizé, corruption became rampant and religion was politicised while he consolidated power in the hands of his immediate family and cronies from his ethnic group, the Gbaya. Bozizé was overthrown by a Muslim rebel alliance, Séléka, which over-ran the capital Bangui in 2013. They in turn unleashed mayhem 146 on the majority Christian population in the capital through gross human rights violations. In response, allies and supporters of Bozizé formed the anti-balaka (anti-machete) movement which not only went after the Séléka forces but took vengeance upon CAR’s Muslim minority. Full-blown religious conflict ensued and degenerated into a cycle of reprisals in which both sides were culpable of religious hate crimes. There was a looming threat of a future genocide in the CAR, with religious communities of Christians and Muslims being incited against one another by armed groups (Security Council Report, 2014). At its peak in January 2014, almost a fifth of CAR’s population had been displaced (Cinq-Mars, 2015). Unsurprisingly, CAR has had several external military interventions since independence to help stabilise the country in one way or another. The French alone have intervened eight times including several that changed regimes. MINUSCA is the UN’s third military deployment in the CAR in two decades and neighbours and regional powers, Chad, Libya and South Africa, have also been invited by successive CAR leaders to offer military support of all kinds. MISCA became the fourth multilateral African force in 2014 after taking over from the ECCAS-led force, MICOPAX, which had been in CAR since 2008. 4.2.2. Contextualising Africa’s year of shame and capitulation For those who see Pan-Africanism as the panacea to African security problems, the year 2012 would go down in history as a year that Africans felt let down by the APSA in a significant way (Esmenjaud, 2014). Since its inception in 2004, AU and its partners have invested heavily in the operationalization of the organs of the APSA, particularly the ASF. The EU, in particular, has invested in various activities, including major training exercises, Amani I & II, validation of capabilities, development of policy guidelines, and countless meetings/conferences. Canada also funded the facilitation of senior leadership training across the continent, which this author managed from 2009-2011, as the training focal point for African peace operations in the UN 147 Secretariat, in close coordination with the AU (AU, 2015). To put it in context, APSA is Africa’s collective response to the 1994 Rwandan genocide: it commits to preventing such a ‘grave circumstance’ from happening again to any member state, with ‘never again’ stated often as the African and global slogan. Several years later, this commitment would be reinforced in the AU’s landmark roadmap, Agenda 2063: The Africa We Want, in which the leaders vowed not to bequeath to future generations the scourge of wars and conflicts (AU, 2015b). Unfortunately, when the crisis in Mali broke, the high expectations of Africa from the ASF quickly faded away because of its inability to mobilize resources and respond timeously. General Francis Okello, Acting Head of the African Union Peace Support Operations Division (PSOD), put it bluntly during an interview with this Author, in February 2019: How do you think the rest of the world looked at Africa after the Mali crisis? Africans should bow our heads in shame for being unable to stop armed groups and insurgents from invading a member state after more than a decade of working to operationalize the African Standby Force (ASF). This is a period of shame and capitulation that should never happen again. Haunted by the fear of failure, several experts concurred with this sentiment (Colonel Mbow and Zinurine Alghali, interviews with the Author, Addis Ababa, February 2019). The level of frustration and feeling still lingers as a silent reminder of the ‘never again’ chorus that Africans once sang loudly. According to Okello (interview, 2019), the member states who volunteered to establish ACIRC were motivated by this sombre experience and vowed to develop something that can respond to a crisis when it was needed. African leaders thus endorsed the establishment of ACIRC ‘out of this feeling of humiliation’ (Esmenjaud, 2014, p. 148 175). Coinciding with the celebration of the 50th Anniversary of the Organisation of African Unity/African Union in 2013, the weight of humiliation could not have been heavier. Critics argue that the decision was emotionally-driven and filled with anti-colonial sentiments (Esmenjaud, 2014), although that does not minimize the fact that Africa failed to deliver on its mandate. 4.3. Global geostrategic sphere of influence 4.3.1. Security Council mulls over the CAR crisis The 2013 Monthly Reports of the Security Council Report on CAR consistently observed that “The Council has remained fairly passive in recent months regarding the CAR, focusing on other country situations while expressing some support for the regional and subregional efforts” (Security Council Report, 2013). While CAR was not a priority on the international agenda for a long time, it was certainly on the radar of the Security Council, and the UN Office for Peacebuilding in the CAR (BINUCA) and the UN Regional Office for the Central Africa (UNOCA) provided regular updates and alerts as deemed necessary. Membership of the Council at its 68th year comprised the five permanent members (China, France, Russian Federation, United States and the United Kingdom) and ten elected members (Togo, Argentina, Australia, Azerbaijan, Guatemala, Luxembourg, Morocco, Pakistan, Republic of Korea, and Rwanda). In light of recent political, security and humanitarian developments in CAR, the mood in the Council increasingly shifted towards a more active engagement, even though there were no specific strategies. All the same, the Council’s general position was to wait for more information from the Secretary-General on AU’s needs, following the AU assessment mission in order to make informed decision. France, as the pen-holder and former colonial power, pushed for more UN support while the US sought 149 to limit such support to bilateral arrangements. Pursuant to resolution 2127, the Council was expected to provide effective support to MISCA in order for it to restore security in the country immediately, as well as authorise a UN peacekeeping mission in the near future (Security Council Report, 2013). In his report to the Council in December 2012, the UN Secretary-General alerted that the long-time opponent of President Bozizé, Michel Djatodia, had returned to CAR and had been reinstated as the leader of the Union of Democratic Forces for the Rally / Union des forces démocratiques pour le rassemblement (UFDR) (UNSC, 2012, 21 December). Around the same time, “elements associated with UFDR attacked the towns of Ndélé, Sam Ouandja and Ouadda in the north-east, [see Figure 4.1 above], in serious violation of the 2008 Libreville Comprehensive Peace Agreement and to the disarmament, demobilization, and reintegration process” (UNSC, 2012, 21 December). From the beginning of 2013, senior UN officials continued to brief the Council about the volatility of the situation including the rapid deployment of troops from Chad, Cameroon, and Gabon to reinforce MICOPAX and defend the capital, Bangui, as well the evacuation of UN family members from the CAR. Alarmingly, Margaret Vogt, the Special Representative of the UN Secretary-General to the CAR, reported that due to the growing violence and insecurity, the entire UN system, the AU and the international non-governmental organizations evacuated their staff from CAR at the end of December 2012. She also warned that the government was losing control and soldiers were abandoning positions and had lost the will to fight (UNSC, 2013, 11 January). This is what triggered military intervention from CAR’s neighbours in early 2013. Noticeably, the meetings of the Council on the CAR thereafter were few and far between, causing the Council to miss opportunities to intervene decisively. The MICOPAX deployment was not sustainable without financial and logistics support from the international community. As a result, in May, the Secretary-General of ECCAS, Ahmad Allam-Mi, urged the international community to support 150 MICOPAX with material and financial resources to increase its capacity and enhance its effectiveness (UNSC, 2013, 15 May). Yet, another fruitless bargain over resource exchange. The next formal Council meeting on the CAR was held in August 2013 to consider the Secretary-General’s report which noted that there was a total breakdown of law and order and that the international community needed to act to stop the plight of the people (UNSC, 2013, 5 August). His new Special Representative, Babacar Gaye, urged the Council ‘it is time to act.’ (UNSC, 2013, 14 August). The AU’s strategic partnership with the Council over legitimacy and resources for Pan-African deployments was being tested and stretched to the limit. In the end, the Prime Minister of CAR, Nicolas Tiangaye, helped to push CAR’s long-forgotten crisis to the top of the Council’s agenda by calling on France to intervene and forcefully disarm the ex-Seléka armed group that had seized power in March (UNSC, 2013, 15 May). 4.3.2. Security Council decides on MISCA Under intense pressure, the Security Council yielded and adopted resolution 2127 (2013), authorising the transition of the ECCAS-led force, MICOPAX to AU-led force, MISCA. However, MISCA was authorised without much UN financial and logistics support. As expected, the lack of predictable support did not give MISCA a solid take-off. The AU force lacked helicopters, military hospitals or field medical units, tentage and, importantly, communications equipment for tactical and operational communication. On funding, the Security Council urged member states to contribute to a separate United Nations Trust Fund to support MISCA, while the AU also established its Trust Fund. The UN Secretary-General also recommended a support package to facilitate a future transition to the UN (UN SecretaryGeneral, 2013, 15 November). However, as with the case in Mali, the AU engaged in painful negotiations over resource exchange, without significant success. So, even when the Council 151 chose to act, the international response failed to match the scope and complexity of the violence. Thus, the international “response was dilatory” (Cinq-Mars, 2015, p. 9). While the Council was mulling over this resolution, attacks by anti-Balaka forces on the capital led to a significant deterioration of the security environment and loss of lives. The delayed action led to even a more complex situation in the CAR, resulting in significant loss of lives and untold human suffering (Dukhan, 2016; Welz, 2014). As at December 2013, there were 639,000 internally displaced persons in CAR, 232,000 CAR refugees in neighbouring countries, 22,000 refugees from DRC and Sudan in CAR, and 2 million CAR people in urgent need of aid. Due to the volatile situation, the IDP numbers increased threefold from March 2013 (UN OCHA, 2013) As the situation continued to deteriorate, the pressure campaign also intensified. In January 2014 alone, three principal staff of the UN briefed the Council in closed sessions on political development, human rights and sexual violence in the CAR (UNSC, 2014, 4 December). In February, the Secretary-General himself briefed the Council on the seriousness of the crisis and demonstrated the type of partnership he envisaged. The Secretary-General warned that religious violence was causing a de-facto partition of the country between Christians and Muslims. He brought with him the AU Commissioner for Peace and Security, Smail Chergui, to demonstrate that there was a unity of purpose among the two organisations. Chergui’s negotiation for resource exchange involved a six-point plan: 1) rapid reinforcement of troops on the ground (noting that the AU is willing to consider further deployment on top of the additional French and EU troops due to arrive); 2) a coordinated command for these forces; 3) a logistical support package to MISCA; 4) support for the government to establish basic state authority; 152 5) expediting reconciliation and the political process; and 6) more funding for humanitarian aid (Security Council Report, 2014). The calls for action could not get any louder, although the Council was not about to act anytime soon. 4.3.3. Security Council decides on MINUSCA Since the Council authorised MISCA without the necessary financial and logistics support, Sangaris had to undertake significant portion of the fighting and protection of civilians in the capital Bangui and the airport. There was tremendous pressure on the Council to consider the deployment of UN force to restore peace and security in the CAR as the French had hinted they would be withdrawing Sangaris in a couple of months (Security Council Report, 2014). Nonetheless, based on the findings of a UN-led Technical Assessment Mission (TAM), that the AU was invited to participate in, and was deployed to CAR in early 2013, the Secretary-General recommended that for MISCA to implement its mandate with the maximum chance of success, it would be critical for the international community to support it from the start in as comprehensible and predictable a manner as possible. The TAM’s recommended options included (1) bilateral and multilateral support; (2) United Nations support funded through a trust fund; (3) limited United Nations support funded through assessed and voluntary contributions; and (4) a comprehensive United Nations support package funded through assessed contributions. The options for providing support to MISCA were aimed at filling critical gaps identified jointly by the African Union, ECCAS and the United Nations (UNSC, 2013, 15 November). As Hervé Ladsous, former Under Secretary-General for Peacekeeping Operations, once informed the Council that a “strong MISCA will not only help to address the immediate security challenges faced by the population but also will be essential to facilitate 153 the transition to a United Nations peacekeeping operation” (UNSC, 2014, 6 March, p.3). This was expected to be mutually-beneficial for both the UN and the AU. Finally, the Security Council bowed to pressure and authorised the deployment of MINUSCA and an EU force in the CAR (EUFOR-CAR) on 10 April 2014. In its resolution 2149 (2014), the Council set 15 September as the date for the transfer of authority from MISCA to MINUSCA under the behest of France (Cinq-Mars, 2015). France appeared relieved as exclaimed by its ambassador to the UN: “The Security Council has emerged from its apathy” (Cinq-Mars, 2015, p. 14). However, the decision of the Security Council to transition from MISCA to MINUSMA in a short space of time angered the AU/ECCAS who had accepted the possible transfer of authority but needed more time to prove themselves under the slogan ‘African solutions to African problems’ (Welz, 2014). Again, its negotiations with the Security Council over critical elements of PanAfrica security partnership, legitimacy and resources, had suffered a setback. All the while, the Secretary-General had conveyed to the Security Council the wishes of AU/ECCAS, noting: “Both the African Union and ECCAS have indicated that they would support the eventual transformation of MISCA into a United Nations peacekeeping operation, but not in the immediate future” (UN Secretary- General, 2013, 15 November, p.11). Even though the AU felt betrayed by the timing scheduled for the transfer, it could be argued that the volatility of the situation and limited capability of MISCA were at the heart of the Council’s decision for early transfer of authority, and member states, rights groups, think tanks repeatedly urged the Council to do something about the intolerable level of violence and gross violations of human rights and the dire humanitarian situation. Aligning this thesis with Brosig (2015), it is argued here that this is a manifestation of a marketplace for resource exchange and legitimacy, where Pan-African security partnership is neither an innocent nor a predictable enterprise. It is the place where actors take their chance and hope for a convergence. Here, Africa had the ‘boots on the ground’ but the legitimacy and the resources to sustain them were not coming anytime 154 soon from the International Community. Indeed, a typical example of variables of Pan-African security partnership that Africans do not control. Inside the Security Council, there was no shortage of the usual diplomatic theatrics and trade-offs. Concerned that the African force lacked the capability to address the situation, France pushed for re-hatting to a UN-led operation. On the contrary, the African members in the Council asked for more time and more support to enable AU to prove itself as a credible security provider (Welz, 2014). Meanwhile, the other permanent members supported the African cause. The US was against the possible deployment of a UN force, arguing that Washington supported the Pan-African force. The US State Department, in particular, which had effectively used its ‘voice and vote in the Council’ to push its agenda, informed Congress that they do not support a UN-conducted operation in CAR “at this time,” arguing that “the Africans [MISCA] working with the French was the best option” (Arieff, 2014, p. 13). Similarly, Russia did not want any consideration nor language on a possible UN force as it would imply the Council had already made that determination while supporting MISCA (Security Council Report, 2014). Besides budgetary considerations, the US faced a dilemma to choose between African forces, which came with political and capacity challenges but are risk-tolerant, or UN peacekeepers who are better funded “but slow to materialize and, often, risk-averse to a point that can inhibit effectiveness” (Arieff, 2014, p. 14). This is the reality inside the Council that one has to contend with. In most cases, decisions are dictated by ‘imperialist consciousness’, which gives the P-3 a sense of entitlement to influence events in Africa. Reflecting on his own experience in the Council, Matthew Rycroft, former UK Permanent Representative to the UN, “described the Council as procedural, bureaucratic and riddled with frustration.” (British Association of Former United Nations Civil Servants [BAFUNCS], 2016). 155 4.3.4. United Nations Security Council Resolution 2149: the game changer Despite the drama in the Council, this thesis argues that resolution 2149 (2014) is one of the most progressive and forward-looking in the history of peacekeeping, particularly with regards to transitions of peace operations (noting that this researcher’s team contributed through consultations during visits, or on the joint assessments, or via email and telephone conversations, with the AU on the key elements of the language of the resolution). It entailed six key elements which contributed to the smooth transition in the CAR. These are covered in Operational Paragraphs (OP) 19, 21-13, 26 and 27 (UNSC, 2014, 10 April). Together with the establishment of the UN MISCA Support Team (MST), these six elements would later constitute the key pillars of negotiation or what was called the ‘transition bible,’ (a name assigned by this researcher’s team members involved in the project who believed this transition roadmap could become the template for future transitions), which aided the development for the transition roadmap with the AU in Addis Ababa. The first element is captured in two operational paragraphs (OP): • OP 19 requested the Secretary-General to subsume the presence of the United Nations Integrated Peacebuilding Office in the Central African Republic (BINUCA) into MINUSCA as of the date of the adoption of the resolution. • OP 25 ensured that BINUCA’s Guard Force was immediately transitioned into MINUSCA, becoming the first military component of the new UN mission. The Second element can be seen in: • OP 21 established MINUSCA as essentially a civilian mission to be complemented by the AU force, MISCA. This was necessary because the military and police portions of the new UN mission had not been generated, except the Guard Force, and the transfer of authority from MISCA (mainly military and police) had not yet taken place. This OP was interpreted by the 156 bureaucrats from both UN and AU to mean MINUSCA and MISCA should work side by side in the same country, developing a symbiotic relationship between the two separate organisations as they depended on each other’s comparative advantage (as derived from this researcher’s personal experience and comments from his UN and AU colleagues in 2014). The Third element is seen in: • OP 22, and perhaps the most popular innovation by the Security Council, was its decision to include in MINUSCA as many MISCA military and police personnel as possible and in line with United Nations standards. This was to be undertaken in close coordination with the AU and ECCAS per the SecretaryGeneral’s policy on human rights screening of United Nations personnel (AU and MISCA staff welcomed this decision because they could see the results of collaboration right in the CAR. Some had serious issues with the human rights conditions as some elements of MISCA were already falling foul of their international obligation). And, this would come to haunt MINUSCA in its early days as human rights violations among the inherited African troops were rampant. The Fourth element was based on: • OP 23, the Council requested the Secretary-General to deploy military enablers, including military engineers, helicopters, hospital and water purification equipment transferred from downsizing peacekeeping operations, and intermission cooperation. As argued by Ladsous, a strong MISCA was good for a UN follow-on mission. In this regard, the Council gave the Secretary-General a broad mandate to contract and procure 157 capabilities that would facilitate the deployment of both missions, although impact on MISCA was limited. The fifth element was: • OP 26, provided for the deployment of a transition team with a broad mandate to prepare a seamless transition of authority from MISCA to MINUSCA by 15 September 2014. The team was also to take necessary steps to prepare and position MISCA, as soon as possible, for its re-hatting to a United Nations Peacekeeping operation. It was envisaged that this team would be led at sufficiently senior level (the prospective chief of staff) to engage the AU from the outset. Lastly, in the sixth element: • OP 27, the Security Council specifically requested the Secretary-General for an update on preparation for a seamless transition from MISCA to MINUSCA by 15 August, one month before the transfer of authority. As a result, both the UN and AU staff were placed under tremendous pressure to expedite, synchronise and coordinate work at different levels through a myriad of orthodox and unconventional ways to actualise the objective. As the date for the transfer of authority from MISCA to MINUSCA drew near, the Security Council was concerned about the increased international scrutiny over human rights violations and the intolerable level of violence in the CAR, particularly those perpetrated by MISCA troops (there were huge capacity gaps in the MISCA forces, a lack of experience in peacekeeping and possible human rights abuses). The UN Secretariat established a CAR Deployment Working Group (CAR WG - comprising political affairs officers, logisticians, medical officers, military officers, police officers, rule of law experts, aviation experts etc), at the Headquarters to coordinate and facilitate deployments to achieve full operational capability 158 (FOC) on the date of the transfer of authority (TOA) from AU to the UN. The CAR WG provided a mechanism that would trigger multiple engagements between MISCA T/PCCs, the UN, and, sometimes, private procurement companies and relevant defence contractors that were supplying additional military equipment to fill the capability gaps. Under normal circumstances, it would be a cause of concern for the UN to engage directly with another organisation’s T/PCCs concerning ongoing operations. Clearly, the transition bible had been a life-saver in the bureaucratic aspects of Pan-African security partnership in CAR as it facilitated cross-over relationships with minimal restraints. The CAR WG, acting as a clearinghouse for all force generation and deployment issues from the UN Secretariat, worked seamlessly with the MISCA support Team in CAR to synchronise deployment timelines, challenges and capability gaps. This was the UN’s first experiment to provide a WG with such a broad ‘mandate’ to directly engage AU T/PCCs and their contractors on acquisition and deployment of the force. 4.3.5. France - the reluctant interventionist? In December 2013, France launched Operation Sangaris in the CAR, comprising 1,600 troops to shore up ECCAS’ force, MICOPAX. Together, they are credited with the cantonment and disarmament of several armed groups, mostly drawn from the ex-Séléka group (although This disarmament process was controversial as it seemed to be a one-sided operation). The French deployed against an unfavourable domestic constituency and criticism about its neocolonial agenda in Africa. Darracq’s (2014, 11 February) description of France as a ‘reluctant interventionist’ is therefore quite apt. France’s main goal in this intervention was to prevent the destabilisation of the whole region as the threat risked transboundary spillover (Darracq, 2014). Its refusal to step in despite the desperate calls from terrified President Bozizé during the ex-Séléka advance to the capital is a testament (Darracq, 2014). Thus, Sangaris was 159 launched against the backdrop of a divided public opinion in French domestic politics. Notably, at the time of the French deployment, the Christian majority (anti-balaka) had taken advantage to enact reprisals resulting in revenge killings and other gross human rights violations against the Muslim minority. Together with MICOPAX/MISCA, Sangaris helped to avert genocide and further bloodbath in the CAR. Its high-end military capability helped the force to be agile and responsive. Sangaris also secured the airport to ensure the free passage of high-level officials and international delegations and undertook restoration of the runways and of the logistic areas, as well as enlarging the passenger zones to make the airport suitable for the arrival of the French force and its likely reinforcements. Finally, Sangaris served as a bridging operation to the deployment of MINUSCA. Even on this positive development, France’s penetration and overlay punctured the PanAfrican security partnership because as Buzan and Wæver (2003, p. 16) note, when a great power “dominates a region so heavily…the regional pattern of security relations virtually ceases to operate.” As a result, France’s overbearing influence could be felt at the operational area and through the strategic orientations of the Security Council on the crisis. For instance, without consultations with the AU, the French President, Francois Hollande, convened a meeting of African leaders in Paris in December 2013, during which a decision was taken increase the AU’s force from 3,500 to 6,000 troops (Welz, 2016, p. 584), brazenly demonstrating its ‘great’ power status on the continent. More so, balance-of-power calculus naturally incentivised France to intervene, including the call from CAR government on France to intervene. For as argued by Buzan and Wæver (2003, p. 46) “Balance-of-power logic works naturally to encourage the local rivals to call in outside help, and by this mechanism the local patterns of rivalry become linked to the global ones.” In addition to funding the MISCA and MICOPAX troops, the EU also deployed its own force in the CAR at the behest of France. Authorized under Security Council resolution 2134 160 (2014), the deployment of a 750-strong EU force (EUFOR-CAR) contributed to the protection of civilians in the CAR. It comprised mainly of French soldiers and had a limited mandate and operational area in the capital (Welz, 2014). On completion of its assignment in March 2015, EUFOR-CAR handed over its tasks to MINUSCA’s Bangui Task Force and a successor EU presence, EU Military Advisory Mission, EUMAM CAR, which is supporting the CAR authorities to undertake security sector reform. As CAR’s largest donor, the EU launched a multi-donor trust fund in 2014, which yielded USD $ 64 million (Dukhan, 2016). 4.4. Continental sphere of influence 4.4.1. Towards strategic convergence The President of Chad and Chair of ECCAS, Idriss Déby ltno, and the President of the Republic of Congo and ECCAS Mediator, Denis Sassou-Nguesso, provided a proactive political leadership for the resolution of the CAR crisis. In a tripartite meeting on 6 June 2014 in Luanda, Angola, Presidents Déby, Sassou-Nguesso and Eduardo dos Santos of Angola issued a communique, urging the Head of State and the transitional authorities of CAR to prioritize national reconciliation (UNSC, 2014, 1 August). In support of ECCAS’ call for the establishment of an international mediation under President Sassou-Nguesso, the mediation process became a joint endeavour between ECCAS, AU, and UN, with the AU representative, Mr. Soumeylou Boubeye Maiga, and the UN representative, Mr. Abdoulaye Bathily, serving as deputies, and supported by ECCAS as rapporteur. The International Mediation had three objectives, namely, to organise a forum in Brazzaville to seek agreement to end hostilities, bring about disarmament of the armed groups and to introduce a new transitional framework, a consultative process and national reconciliation at the local (prefectures) levels and a national forum in the capital Bangui (ECCAS-CMI, 2016). Beyond raising the profile of the mediator 161 and the mediation, the success of this collaboration was evident in the successful organization of the Brazzaville and Bangui Forums1 in 2014 and 2015, respectively.2 This thesis argues that the leadership of international mediation was borne out of the spirit of Pan-Africanism, in which the AU and the UN agreed to work under ECCAS leadership. As Africans both the AU and UN representatives would hold President SassouNguesso in high regard as an elderly statesman, giving credence to Pan-Africanism (with emphasis on African Personality) (Poe, 2010), and the elder tradition of African political philosophy (Mazrui, 2014). Given its success, there is a good chance for the AU and the RECs/RMs to replicate the Sassou-Nguesso approach elsewhere. 4.4.2. High Politics in ECCAS The ECCAS-led processes had their own challenges. To start with, ECCAS was beset by a weak secretariat, member states’ divergent political interests and lack of capacity. Marie Noëlle Koyara, a former minister for the Advancement of Women and Social Action, Minister of State for Agriculture, Public Works and National Defence in the CAR government, aptly noted that weakness in co-ordination, lack of synergy of action, and follow-up characterize the relationship between ECCAS and its member states (ECCAS-CMI, 2016). Beyond the lack of capacity, there were visible cracks at the level of heads of state, particularly between Presidents Sassou-Nguesso,3 the ECCAS mediator, and Déby of Chad, the chairman of ECCAS and de 1 The Brazzaville Forum held in 2014 focused on the restoration of peace and security and paving the way to further transitional framework. Provided opportunity to end hostilities and laid the groundwork for the 2015 Bangui Forum, which was more of a consultative process in large parts of the country on how to end the transitional process and consolidate peace. Its hallmark achievement is the agreement on a “Republic Pack.” 2 Collaboration in agenda setting, messaging and mobilisation of resources helped the international community to keep the CAR on the agenda of the international community even as other competing priorities were also calling for attention. Working closely with the EU and France, the International Mediations provided a platform to release joint statements on significant developments, joint demarches demanding action from the Head of State of the Transition and the Prime Minister as well as the leadership of the armed groups. 3 President Sassou-Nguesso had a lot of influence because he had previously provided budgetary support to the government of CAR. 162 facto ‘great power’ in terms of military might on the ground and influence.4 Sassou-Nguesso’s high profile involvement was “based on securing the goodwill of the international community” and attaining a grandstanding in the region (Dukhan, 2016, p. 12). He also exercises economic influence in the region and effectively used the platform to promote his leadership aspiration, but that did not go unchallenged by Déby, according to ECCAS staff (interviewed by the author, Libreville, March 2019). As chair of ECCAS, President Déby hosted an extra-ordinary summit of ECCAS and, of significance, had his former foreign minister, Allam-Mi, elected as the Secretary-General of ECCAS, giving him an insider’s perspective. Furthermore, Chad privileged its position in the Security Council to champion issues of the region. However, the implications of this ‘high politics’ or what this author prefers to call ‘status-bargaining’5 on the transition process is significant. In Bangui, the capital of CAR, ECCAS and the ECCAS Mediator had separate representatives who did not necessarily read from the same page. One African political analyst, Amadou Diong (interviewed by Author, 20 August 2019), recalls a rift over money as the ECCAS representative, Aldophe Odo, refused to share resources and cover the expenses of General Nzongo, the Special Representative of the mediator. Lack of clarity on their respective roles created confusion and retarded the ECCAS’ political progress and ability to be more proactive (ECCAS-CMI, 2016). Somehow, both leaders obtained status recognition as other states in the region followed their lead as appropriate. For a great power, it is important that other states recognise it as such, and it must also be willing to act the role (Sridharan, 2017), yet this was not without a cost to regional cohesion and Pan-African security partnership. 4 President Déby’s forces provided security to President Bozizé in the CAR until 2012. Status-bargaining would be the employment of state resources to gain a grand standing over others in a community of states. 5 163 4.4.3. Towards strategic dissonance In April 2013, ECCAS requested the AU in April 2013 to augment its force, MICOPAX. In July, the AU Peace and Security Council (PSC) authorized the deployment of MISCA for an initial period of six months with a total force strength of 3,652 (military and police), extensively drawing on MICOPAX personnel and to be re-hatted on 1 August (UNSC, 2013, 5 August). At the same time, the PSC requested the UN Security Council for support, and on 26 July 2013, the AU PSC submitted its strategic concept of operations to the Security Council. The AU Peace and Security Council (PSC) convened five meetings on the situation in 2013 alone, leading to significant strategic and political decisions. These included a flurry of diplomatic, political, and technical consultations among the key actors in New York, Addis Ababa, and Central Africa. It would seem the international community was awakened from its long apathy (the French Ambassador to the UN is quoted to have said so at the Security Council). Participants at the AU experts’ meeting in Addis Ababa from 2-5 July to develop the strategic concept of the operations (CONOPs) were drawn from ECCAS member states, potential troop- and police-contributing countries and representatives of relevant regional and IOs. The MISCA concept of operation was the result of an important collaborative engagement between the African Union and ECCAS at the strategic level (UNSC, 2013, 15 November). The AU also convened further consultations in Addis Ababa in September 2013 to agree on the modalities and timelines of the transition (African Union, 2013).6 This paved the way for several activities to be undertaken at different levels of interactions. 6 The AU Commission and the ECCAS General Secretariat agreed to complete the following tasks: the establishment of the AFISM-CAR Mission Headquarters and its various components; the generation of additional forces, on the understanding that the ECCAS member States shall expedite the build-up of existing capabilities to reach the 2,000 uniformed personnel, as agreed to by the Extraordinary Summit of the ECCAS Heads of State and Government held in N’Djamena on 18 April 2013 that will constitute the core elements of AFISM-CAR; the operational planning for the deployment of AFISM-CAR; as well as the legal framework for the deployment of AFISM-CAR, including the Memorandum of Understanding (MOU) between the AU and 164 However, despite the seemingly collaborative work, and from this researcher’s personal observations, participants soon observed that ECCAS and the AU had divergent views regarding the transition from MICOPAX to MISCA (Cinq-Mars, 2015). First, ECCAS and AU had policy differences over how to handle the leader of the coup d’état in CAR, Michel Djotodia. In line with the Africa Charter on Democracy, Elections and Good Governance (African Union, 2012), the AU swiftly suspended CAR from its membership. ECCAS, on the other hand, recognised Djotodia as the leader of CAR, although it refused to recognise him as a Head of State. Eventually, based on this researchers’ personal observation and conversations with ECCAS staff (in Addis Ababa, September, 2013) it was noted that ECCAS forced Djotodia to resign, proving that it was in total control of the political situation and was not ready to yield leadership to the AU. Second, the AU’s decision to take over the mission was not as transparent from the beginning as ECCAS initially thought the meeting in Addis Ababa was working towards a joint AU-ECCAS mission.7 The Addis Ababa meeting was interrupted and suspended a couple of times to allow broader consultations with their respective Secretariats. ECCAS officials informed that they had only asked for AU support to enhance MICOPAX but the AU ‘insisted on taking the lead’ (Welz, 2014, p. 604). The AU referenced the principle of subsidiarity as the governing principle, but ECCAS had a different interpretation. Given that this was the first opportunity for ECCAS to demonstrate, on the global stage, its competence in launching peace operations, this was a big deal and an important moment for the region. Behind the scenes, though, the AU, EU, and France did not think ECCAS was up to the task given the complexity of the crisis (Welz, 2016; Jacques Deman, interview with Author, August 2019). In the end, and noted from this researcher’s observations, ECCAS. The AU and ECCAS delegations were led by Ramtane Lamamra, Commissioner for Peace and Security and Ahmad Allam-Mi, the Secretary-General respectively. 165 the MISCA CONOPs was jointly signed by both the AU and ECCAS as a compromise, but the subsidiarity turf wars over ownership had already taken their toll. While the AU PSC communiqué of 19 July 2013 indicated that the transition of MICOPAX to MISCA would occur on 1 August, the operational reality was different. Arguably, the CAR crisis tested states’ willingness to cede sovereignty within the APSA framework (Meyer, 2011). ECCAS remained firmly in charge of MISCA and continued to exercise command and control through the ECCAS Secretariat for a while. The reluctance of ECCAS to let go was understandable as its delegation and some ECCAS member states had questioned the rationale for handing over to the AU, if the UN was, indeed, planning to take over in a few months. Indeed, as some experts argued, if a single transition was so difficult enough for Africa to manage in Mali, why would they contemplate two in a space of one year? ECCAS had learned from the ECOWAS’ experience in Mali to be able to resist the AU. The tensions raised the stakes and had an impact on the scope and the speed of delivery of international support, as well as the command and control challenges on the ground.8 However, the AU was not having any of it as it was poised to assume leadership of MISCA, anyway. ECCAS’ insistence that the Head of Mission or the Special Representative of the AU Chairperson (SRCC), MISCA should report to both ECCAS Secretariat and the AUC caused delays, highlighting once again that ECCAS and AU needed to do a better job at closing their ranks.9 The lack of clarity on the principle of subsidiarity or its unsuitability could be the cause of the friction between the two IOs (UNSG, 2015, 5 January). Nonetheless, the AU prevailed, but in hindsight, this could have been resolved differently because the competition between them for “visibility, relevance, and control over the process” was too costly (Dukhan, 2016, p. 601). It took four months to effect the transition from MICOPAX to MISCA due to ‘strained 8 9 Interviews with various ECCAS staff officers, Libreville, March 2019. Researcher’s personal observation in the meetings. 166 relations’ (Welz, 2014, p. 607). During the same period, at least 2000 people were reportedly killed, more than 500, 000 displaced and more than 2 million in need of aid (Welz, 2016). Undoubtedly, Pan-African security partnership took a big hit from wrangling over subsidiarity. Clearly, the impact of high politics on Pan-African security partnership is evident in the delays in deployment and transitions of MICOPAX and from MICOPAX to MISCA, respectively. Determinedly, ECCAS took the fight over senior appointments to the next level. In an interview with Ambassador Baudouin Hamuli, Director of Political Affairs and Early Warning Mechanism of Central Africa (MARAC), (Gabon, March 2019), he argued that when member states of a region make a sovereign decision to collectively address a crisis in their neighbourhood, it must be respected by the AU. He concurs with ECOWAS that “subsidiarity cannot be understood as subordination. It is a collaboration” (Hamuli, interview, 2019). Contrary to ECOWAS’ experience in Mali, ECCAS successfully negotiated to keep the leadership of the incoming UN mission, MINUSCA, predominantly African. In April 2014, the foreign minister of CAR asked the Security Council that “the Mission’s leadership and Force Commander be an African and that the linguistic criterion and the gender aspect be taken into account during the deployment of MINUSCA” (UNSC, 2014, 10 April). The UN agreed and appointed the MISCA Force Commander as the first force commander for MINUSCA (UNSC, 2014, 30 July). In a bid to avoid a repetition of the Mali experience, some senior UN officials in Africa, on their own volition, initiated diplomatic efforts to get the AU and ECCAS on the same page as quickly as possible. As noted by the UN Secretary-General, his Special Representatives for Central Africa and the Central African Republic respectively “facilitated talks between delegations led by ECCAS Secretary-General Ahmad Allam-Mi and former African Union Peace and Security Commissioner Ramtane Lamamra to harmonize their positions on MISCA” (UNSC, 2014, 31 December). As the two Special Representatives were both Africans, they 167 were also appalled and frustrated by the tense relationship between the AU and the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS) over the Mali crisis a year earlier, and wanted to see a different transition outcome.10 One of them, General Babacar Gaye, was the Military Adviser of the UN Secretary-General in New York during the Mali crisis and had a first-hand experience of the toxicity of the relationship between the AU and ECOWAS and its negative impact on the overall outcome.11 This thesis argues that, appalled by the interactions over Mali, these senior officials would have been compelled by the spirit of ‘African Personality’ and bureaucratic will to reverse Africa’s sense of shame and capitulation in the CAR.12 This is a classic example of bureaucratic agency/flexibility, where senior UN officials voluntarily offered to reconcile two African IOs. 4.5. Operational sphere of influence 4.5.1. A tale of two transitions, one country Unlike Mali, CAR underwent two successive operational transitions within a space of one year that required the significant support of the UN and other partners, not least because they were both harbingers of impending UN-led operation. As mentioned in the previous section, the tense discussions between the AU and ECCAS on the transition from MICOPAX to MISCA led to four months delay (Welz, 2014). But something was different this time around because the bureaucrats, who were predominantly Africans, were single-mindedly united to This researcher’s close association with General Gaye during his time in the CAR as the Team Leader of the MISCA Support Team. 11 This author had this discussion with General Gaye in Abidjan in 2012 when the UN Secretariat was holding back experts from participation in ECOWAS-led planning mission. Upon hearing that the military staff he had despatched to Abidjan support the efforts were only acting as observers, he advised them to engage rather ‘observe’. Their behaviour changed all of a sudden and they worked under the tutelage of the researcher throughout the session. 12 This author had the honour to serve directly under General Gaye in the CAR when he deployed as the MISCA Support Team and what a privilege it was to push the transition forward under one of Africa’s finest generals. 10 168 avoid a Mali do-over. With the full backing of the leaderships of the Department of Peacekeeping Operations (DPKO) and the AU Peace and Security Department, technical experts gathered in Addis Ababa in September 2013 to discuss and develop a roadmap for the possible transition based on the five elements of Security Council resolution 2149 (2014).13 Subsequently, like-minded UN staff were hand-picked for the MST to implement the roadmap in CAR. I argue that leadership support from the IOs should be seen as part of the critical mass for effective bureaucratic agency in Pan-African security partnership. 4.5.2. 2013 - Transition from MICOPAX to MISCA Following the AU’s request to its member states in August 2013 and its strategic partners for funds to support MISCA, several states and partners responded positively, albeit in limited amounts, according to AU’s Colomel Mbow in an interview with the Author. France and the United States pledged direct support to countries providing contingents to MISCA, while the EU pledged to provide significant financial assistance to the AU through its African Peace Facility (Mbow, interview, 2019). The AU meeting allowed the partners to engage constructively with each other at the beginning of the planning process (Deman, interview, 2019). While in Addis Ababa, the UN consulted broadly and explored whether the UN could provide support to MISCA in the area of air mobility and medical services on a costreimbursable basis as well as embed staff at the AU mission headquarters to support the senior leadership. The UN representatives would later convince their superiors in New York to accept the concept of ‘UN soft support,’14 a deliberate attempt to distinguish it from materiel support that tends to be costly, sensitive, difficult to negotiate with the Security Council. The ‘UN soft support’ was designed to specifically address AU’s acute shortage of expertise for mission 13 Researcher was the DPKO representative and participants in these meetings. The UN staff embedded in the AU mission would initially be referred to as ‘UN soft support,’ but on deployment it would formally be called the MISCA Support Team (MST). 14 169 start-ups and initially envisaged to comprise both AU and UN counterparts who would be colocated and work side-by-side to support the mission leadership.15 Thus, the idea of ‘“soft’” support was to present an inexpensive support mechanism16 that would glue bureaucrats of both the UN and the AU together in a strengthened partnership throughout the transition period.17 Due to the extensive collaborations and UN support, the transfer of authority between MICOPAX and MISCA occurred on 19 December 2013 (UNSC, 2013, 15 November). In his letter to the President of the Security Council in January 2015, the UN Secretary-General acknowledged that: the United Nations worked from the outset to support the transition of authority from the ECCAS-led operation, the Mission for the Consolidation of Peace in the Central African Republic to the African-led operation MISCA, which took place on 19 December 2013 (UN Secretary-General, 2015, 2 January). 4.5.3. 2014 - Transfer of authority from MISCA to MINUSCA 4.5.3.1. UN deploys MISCA Support Team Pursuant to Security Council resolution 2127 (2013) (UNSC, 2013, 5 December), the UN provided technical and expert advice (or soft support) to support the planning and deployment of MISCA and strengthen its command and control, administrative infrastructure and training capacity, including through the mobile training team model designed and delivered in a coordinated fashion by the UN and the AU. The United Nations MISCA Support Team 15 This was researcher’s own creation based on my consultations in Addis Ababa. There was a good chance for Security Council to support a UN assistance that only comprised a few warm bodies but whose ideas could deliver priceless dividends. 17 By working closely with each other overtime, they would learn to understand and trust each other, as well as find creative ways to overcome institutional challenges. 16 170 (MST),18 which deployed to the CAR in February 2014, played an important role in operationalizing the transition plan and linking operational planning with donor support planning in Addis Ababa and New York respectively. Guided by the by the transition bible and a joint AU-UN matrix developed in Addis Ababa for MISCA, the MST identified key thematic areas that the joint teams ought to focus on at the operational level to achieve a smooth transition, namely, political/operational (civilian), military, police and mission support. It first secured the concurrence of the leadership of both MINUSCA and MISCA on a joint roadmap and established joint MINUSCA-MISCA Working Groups to correspond to the thematic areas identified in the Addis Ababa matrix. The various work streams reported daily to MST which also reported regularly to the leadership of both MISCA and DPKO through MINUSCA. The MST served as the bridge between MINUSCA and MISCA and eventually established a joint working group on human rights that enabled UN human rights staff to travel to MISCA operational areas to investigate violations of human rights and other alleged crimes against humanity (Baboucar Jagne, interview with Author, September 2019). Amadou Diong, Senior Political Analyst of MST stated “In all my decade-plus experience in UNDP, I never had the opportunity to work closely with African agency that was poised to make a seismic change in UN-AU relations. I couldn’t be prouder of my job.”19 MST also worked jointly with the AU to establish a single Joint Operation Centre (JOC) one month before the transition and in advance to re-hat as many MISCA senior commanders as possible, including the Force Commander, as well as nearly all the MISCA staff officers (Diong, interview with Author, September 2019). Thus, the UN team embedded in MISCA facilitated the operation and eventual transition of the AU force. As noted 18 The UN’s secondment of UN officers to provide additional technical capacity including political, mission support, CITS and military planning was a useful means of providing the AU with the surge capacity it needed. 19 Skype interview with Amadou Diong, September 2019. Amadou Diong went on to become MINUSCA’s first head of office in Pouar, where he opened doors for the mission to engage the armed groups in the area. 171 by the UN Secretary-General (2015, January 5) “The ability of the UN to re-hat much of the MISCA leadership was made possible by the early involvement of the UN in the selection of these positions.”20 Contrary to the situation in Mali, the UN Trust Fund for MISCA came on stream before the transfer of authority (TOA) as the main donors were few and included the UN, which donated communication equipment (radios) from its depot in Brindisi, Italy, to support command and control arrangements in MISCA (Diong, interview with Author, September 2019). The MST facilitated the receipt and transfer of the equipment to MISCA to meet critical operational gaps. 4.5.3.2. Transfer of Authority (TOA) – MISCA to MINUSCA In line with Security Council resolution 2149 (2014), all MISCA military units (Burundi, Cameroon, Congo Brazzaville, Democratic Republic of Congo, Gabon, and Rwanda) were rehatted prior to the transfer of authority (TOA), except for a small unit from Equatorial Guinea, which was not able to reach UN standards. At TOA on 15 September, 65 percent of MINUSCA’s authorized uniformed personnel were on the ground (7,688 military and police personnel). The entire Mission leadership was also in place. Inheriting MISCA and subsuming BINUCA enabled MINUSCA to establish presences in the field relatively quickly (OP 19, 21, 22, 23, 25, 26, and 27) (Diong, interview with Author, September 2019). Subsequently, the Secretary-General informed the Security Council that the transition team contributed greatly to a smoother transition (OP 26) (UNSG, 2015, January 5).21 The uniqueness of the achievement was also not lost on Security Council members who welcomed 20 21 UN Security Council. Letter from the UN Secretary-General. January 5, 2015. UN Security Council. SG letter. January 5, 2015. op.cit. 172 the smooth transition.22 Expressing confidence in the transition model used in the CAR, the Secretary-General further advised the Council that: Where a transfer of authority is envisioned between the two organizations, the early deployment of a joint transition team would also be important for the effective implementation of the transition plan [because]…The swift deployment of AFISMA and MISCA was critical to the international community’s efforts to protect civilians in those countries. It also paved the way for a smooth transfer of authority to MINUSMA and MINUSCA (UNSG, 2015, January 5).23 Indeed, a fitting tribute to African and non-African practitioners from both organisations who sacrificed bureaucratic egos and worked side by side to eventuate what would constitute a truly constructive Pan-African security partnership. This thesis argues that this is African agency at work and arguably aligns with Kwame Nkrumah’s thoughts on the agential role of African Personality (Nkrumah, 1963), impacting one’s environment positively (Poe, 2010). While both the AU and UN have every right to celebrate this success, lessons learned must not be lost in institutional niceties. The institutions provided the platform and once the collaboration picked up momentum, there was overwhelming support from the leadership of both organisations as well. This attests to the potential difference bureaucratic agency, a critical aspect of Pan-African security partnership, can bring to collaboration of IOs if properly harnessed. 22 The UK Permanent Representative to the UN, Sir Mark Lyall Grant, is reported to have observed on 16 December 2014 that; “…we have seen close and professional collaboration between AU and UN teams in planning for the transition from an AU to a UN peacekeeping mission in the Central African Republic…This process worked significantly better than the similar transition in Mali last year, reflecting a gradually improving partnership between the organisations.” 23 UN Security Council. Secretary-General’s letter. January 5, 2015. op.cit 173 For a moment, it appeared the AU and the UN counterparts were working for one organisation as the ‘transition bible’ provided a common reference point and a practical roadmap for practitioners. Nonetheless, there were few things that could have been done differently. For instance, the inability of the UN to deploy the transition team as originally envisaged meant that the MST would have to assume greater responsibility in the transition planning process in the CAR. Also, the CAR case study reveals a humbling side of the process because as feared by the Security Council, some of the MISCA troops that were being transferred to the UN had serious human rights issues. There were allegations of rampant sexual exploitation and abuse, extrajudicial killings, torture, and enforced disappearances perpetrated by the international forces, Sangaris and MISCA (UN-MINUSCA, 2015). 4.6. Conclusion The ‘humiliation’ of Africa during the Mali crisis caused deep reflections among PanAfricanists and sympathisers to change course in Pan-African security partnership under grave circumstances. The crisis in the CAR would be the first beneficiary of this change of hearts to avoid the Mali trap. The recommendations helped the Security Council to adopt resolutions with creative languages that later formed the ‘transition bible’ for the transition from MISCA to MINUSCA. At the global geostrategic level, negotiations around legitimacy and resource exchange produced indeterminate outcomes and challenging prospects of Pan-African security partnership. In fact, the Security Council, hamstrung by imperialist consciousness, unpredictable diplomatic manoeuvring, high politics, and clashes of interests did not avail itself as a credible partner for the AU in its interventionist bravado in CAR. Incessant calls and interventions from the UN Secretary-General, senior officials of the UN, AU, ECCAS, and CAR did little to force decisions in the Council as urgently dictated by events on the ground. 174 By failing to provide support to the Pan-African forces in CAR, the Council opted for ‘selective’ security, which is an abdication of its responsibility under collective security and the Responsibility to Protect (R2P) norm. ECCAS and AU faced huge challenges when seeking to attain early convergence on the demand and supply curves of resource scarcity because it is a difficult marketplace where they did not have commanding leverage to influence decisions. The French privileged from a dual role as a member of the Security Council and a great power on the continent. France played a pivotal role in the Security Council to draft and lobby others to support the resolutions on the CAR and deployed Sangaris to work alongside the PanAfrican forces, MICOPAX and MISCA successively, to stabilise the situation. Meanwhile, as an unwilling interventionist, France privileged its strategic ‘overlay’ and ‘penetration’ policies to be the dominant external voice and force on the CAR crisis. At the same time, France convinced the EU to deploy EUFOR RCA with niche capabilities to secure specific areas in the capital. ECCAS and the AU contested over the ownership and leadership of the Pan-African forces in the CAR, where the principle of subsidiarity created tense relationship, leading to unnecessary delays. Nonetheless, ECCAS managed to keep the leadership positions of MISCA and subsequently MINUSCA. This is a feat ECOWAS had failed to achieve in Mali. Despite sparring for regional status between Presidents Déby and Sassou-Nguesso, ECCAS managed to demonstrate strong political leadership in their own rights. Without a doubt, the political process led by the ECCAS mediator, President Sassou-Nguesso, became the main framework for international collaboration. The AU and the UN seconded deputies to President SassouNguesso to strengthen the International Mediation as well as give it greater muscle and credibility. Bureaucrats driven by African Personality, in particular, senior UN officials, intervened from the outset to ease tensions between AU and ECCAS in Addis Ababa. At the technical 175 level, bureaucrats worked collaboratively to provide agency that facilitated the two transitions despite the tensions around legitimacy, resource exchange, ownership, subsidiarity, and high politics. Importantly, the bureaucratic agency pursued two objectives, providing concrete recommendations through their respective hierarchies to the Security Council and assuming the role of the implementing agency of the Council’s decisions on the ground. This is the only agency in Pan-African security partnership with potential influence at both the strategic/political and operational level, simultaneously. 176 Chapter 5: Diagnosis of Pan-African Security Partnership We are made for inter-dependence…If the world had more Ubuntu, we would not have war – Bishop Desmond Tutu (cited in Muchie, Lukhele-Olorunju, & Akpor, 2013, p. 463) 5.1. Introduction This chapter provides a prognosis of the previous chapters to highlight the key findings of the study. Substantial scholarly work has examined Africa’s regionalisms and regionalisation processes in order to produce knowledge on Africa’s globalisation trajectory. Stemming from these theories has been further scholarly work in security studies, which embodies regional security complexes, regime complexes and a diagnosis of a confluence of factors constituting the security partnership. Through these lenses, we see the complex web of networks, entanglements and associations by state and non-state actors who make Africa a fluid and active theatre of regionalisation. The establishment of the APSA in 2004 to inherit this security complex is an ongoing odyssey for the AU. In most cases, the AU’s responses have been held hostage by circumstances beyond its control, namely inadequate funding and lack of prompt collaborative decision-making. This has been compounded by the AU’s overdependence on external actors for financial and material resources to respond to grave circumstances on the continent, thereby undermining its own ownership mantra and debate. The lack of Africanness in these undertakings is a central theme of this chapter. The chapter, therefore, provides the key findings from probing: 1) How existing theories and models have responded to African security governance; 177 2) The structural, institutional and cultural challenges of security arrangements that APSA inherited and how they have become an odyssey of the AU in owning and managing African security crises; and 3) How the empirical evidence from the Mali and CAR case studies reify inadequate responses to grave circumstances. This chapter thus presents these findings as key tenets of African security culture that require further interrogation. In doing so, this chapter also places particular emphasis on the two case studies as they highlight areas of convergence and difference of the actors via the lens of the Pan-African security partnership. As discussed above in Chapters 3 and 4, this chapter illustrates how the UN Security Council and France emerged as the most powerful external components of the Pan-African security landscape. Beyond the need for the Security Council’s authorisation of Pan-African interventions, the AU’s over-reliance on external assistance, both financial and material, makes it extremely vulnerable to external influence. A crucial element of African security governance is African high politics involving heads of states and heads of IOs. This chapter provides an in-depth understanding of the behaviour and decision-making of African leadership under grave circumstances. Furthermore, the Malian revolt against the imminent deployment of the ECOWAS Standby Force shows how important local populations are and should be, in the Pan-African security discourse and practice. The chapter thus calls for norm-socialisation towards enhanced social capital, and also highlights two key developments at the operational level; 1) the critical role of bureaucrats in influencing and implementing policy; and 2) the perennial lack of funding and resources in Pan-African interventions. Given consistent challenges in the implementation of the principle of subsidiarity, the chapter argues for its demise in African security governance. At the same time, the chapter sheds more light on the mistrust between the African IOs, leaders 178 and member states through a model on social interdependence. All told, these issues present Africa with a security complex that does not lend itself easily to western-centric analyses. 5.2. Deconstructing the Pan-African security partnership conundrum 5.2.1. Lack of adequate theory There is consensus in the literature that viewing Europe as the main reference point of regionalism studies could be misleading (Bach, 2015; Engel, 2016). For instance, Engel (2016) argues that outside Eurocentric models, various forms of regionalism may be occurring in subSaharan Africa, including neoliberal regional governance, sovereignty-boosting regional governance and regional shadow governance. However, a reflection on Africa’s deep historic culture has been particularly absent in contemporary literature. New research reveals unique regional historiographies and idiosyncrasies that shape respective Africa’s regions (Engel et al., 2016; Bach, 2015). Take the New Regional Theory (NRT) as a classic example. NRT acknowledges that the long historical perspective of communities and claim that the origins of ‘regionness’, particularly its cultural dimension, can be traced far back in history (Hettne & Söderbaum, 2000). While the NRT approach is less state-centric, allowing for non-traditional means of analysis, its prognosis on Africa does not go far enough, leaving the non-traditional inquiry to future research (Hettne & Söderbaum, 2000). Buzan and Wæver (2003) developed a Regional Security Complex Theory (RSCT) to explain how security actors socially construct regional complexes, ranging from the behaviour of states and non-state actors from the security community to the external actors. The patterns of ‘amity and enmity’ and ‘penetration and overlay’ frameworks provide useful tools for analysing security complexes. RSCT also argues against using a Eurocentric approach and Westphalian IR to understand security in sub-Saharan Africa. Yet, its historical and cultural 179 periscopes are not sufficiently deep to bring out the richness of the continent connected by blood, kinship, community or other affinities, for example, religion (Buzan & Wæver, 2003). They blame colonialism for significantly altering African cultures and traditions into what they refer as ‘post-traditional.’ For this and other reasons, they conclude that the failure of the postcolonial state is the principal reason for insecurity in Africa (Buzan & Wæver, 2003). Despite the best efforts of the theorists, a significant portion of the underlining factors of African history, political and socio-cultural developments is lost, depriving their analyses of intellectual acuity. As Poe (2004, p. 741) rightly argues “universalism, wrongly asserted, tends to distort reality and give birth to blind analyses.” So, in short, while current theories acknowledge the existence of historical and cultural gaps, they do not go far enough to address the ‘lack of adequate theory’ (Hettne & Söderbaum, 2000). They all appear to defer that to future research. In response to inadequate theory, Aniche (2020) argues that African integration preceded European colonization and European integration. Substantively, Okafor and Aniche (2017) provide three phases of African regionalism that pre-date colonialism, namely: • Phase one - the era of Islamization or Arab colonialism, • Phase two - the era of Diaspora Pan-Africanism or traditional Pan-Africanism, and • Phase three - the era of European colonialism and the era of modern PanAfricanism. While their scholarly work focuses on developmental and economic integration, this thesis quickly adds that there is a significant security portion to African regionalism. Inspired by the work of Okafor and Aniche, this thesis contextualizes African regionalisms on significant historical moments (epoch) that reveal patterns of interactions, entanglements and relationships with implications for security. The point of departure from Aniche is that this study also draws 180 from historical events that pre-date Islamisation, expands the scope beyond Pan-Africanism and entails significant security idiosyncrasies. In doing so, this chapter reaches further back in history to develop patterns of cooperation, integration, complementarity and convergence of agendas that could be reverberating in Africa’s strategic orientation and Pan-African security partnerships. The study, therefore, develops an epochal approach to offer novel and fresh cumulative aspects of the trends of regionalism based on the demographic, cultural, sociopolitical socialisation. The idea of epoch-scapes demonstrates that Africa’s historical events have cumulative impacts on the contemporary security partnership and the strategic orientation of African agency during crises. It is recalled that Pan-African security partnership deals with several variables including kinship and communalism, religious fanaticism (terrorism), mistrust and mutual suspicion, false identity through colonial language and systems, PanAfrican zeal for unity, and the paradox of Pan-Africanism and Pan-Arabism. Of significance, the regionalism theorists agree that neo-liberal, Westphalian constructs with origins in Europe, cannot apply, mutatis mutandis, to Africa. Such a construct will not only miss the cumulative impact of Africa’s rich history on contemporary trends but provide a distorted African story. There have been historical impositions of foreign categories of thought. Higgs argues that “the general Westernisation of education theory and practice in Africa” have perpetuated “an ideology of cultural superiority… which precludes the legitimisation of diverse cultural epistemologies and cosmologies” (Higgs, 2012, p. 1). As Ali Mazrui argues, “We can imagine intellectualism without Pan-Africanism, but we cannot imagine Pan-Africanism without the intellectualization of the African condition” (Mazrui, 2005, p. 56). To intellectualise the African condition means an overhaul of the medium of education and its limiting impact on African thought. Wiredu identifies three superimpositions through the colonisation, namely language, religion and politics (Wiredu, 1997). Arguably, language has been the most impactful because it affects the most fundamental categories of human thought. 181 Indeed, as noted by Boahen (1985), the introduction of foreign languages by the colonisers in Africa was the most significant assault on African culture. For example, when one thinks about a problem in a foreign language, one is forced to think in the foreign language about the problem (Wiredu, 1997). This does not always bring the best out of the person who could otherwise come out with different meanings and interpretations in indigenous language. By receiving education in the medium of foreign languages, African scholars and elites sometimes end up with “avoidable philosophical deadwood” (Wiredu, 1997, p. 2). However, as Wiredu rightly notes “ordinary common sense would deprecate carrying other peoples’ garbage” (Wiredu, 1997, p. 2). The clearest example is the Anglophone-Francophone dichotomy which militates against intra-African cohesion, especially in ECOWAS. This entrenched colonial legacy can only be (de)legitimated through strong Pan-African values and African philosophy. 5.2.2. Complexity of African security governance Security arrangements in Africa are characteristically complex and inherently fluid. African approaches to regionalism and security communities have their roots in epoch-scapes, including colonial legacies, Pan-African movements and ambitious multi-purpose country groups or blocs (Bach, 2015; Crutcher, 1963). This has resulted in multiple, overlapping and often competing regionalisms and regionalisation agendas in Africa. These arrangements are chiefly a reflection of the colonial legacy, and if that is considered artificial, then so too are networks that arise from there (Bach, 2015). The 1970 Lagos Plan of Action (LPA) tried to sanitise these processes with economic and developing focus, resulting in the establishment of eight Regional Economic Communities (RECS) (Asante, 1997; Bach, 2015). However, the coming into force of the APSA added to the complexity. The APSA recognised three of the eight RECs and additional two Regional Mechanisms as its building blocks (AU, 2015). Added 182 to this, the parcelling out of the continent into RECs was not a democratic exercise per se, leading to some member states frequently switching sides and loyalties. Multiple memberships and overlaps generate conflicting national/regional interests, limited resources for member states to fully obligate their commitments, as well as questionable loyalties (Bach, 2015). Thus, APSA inherited a particularly difficult security landscape, not to talk about the emerging security coalitions such as the Multi-National Joint Task Force (MNJTF) and the Group of five countries force in the Sahel (G5 Sahel Force) that were not anticipated (Souaré, 2016). In the last two decades, the AU has put in place an elaborate normative framework, policies and doctrines to make APSA a viable project. Despite these efforts, the organisation is facing internal contestation and (de)legitimation from regional organisations and strong member states (Williams, 2016). In his capacity as the Chairperson of the AU in 2019, Egypt’s President, Abdel Fattah al-Sisi, “diluted the PSC’s strongly anti-military stance” on Sudan’s military junta, the Transitional Military Council (TMC) (Hellquist, 2020, p.11). He undercut the AU by inviting a group of like-mined African leaders, who constitute an exclusive club of Africa’s strongmen with no interest in democracy, (Hellquist, 2020) to Egypt for a meeting which extended the PSC’s deadline for the TMC to hand over power to a civilian administration from 60 to 90 days. On top of that, the ASF, which is arguably the most ambitious self-help security project in Africa (Darkwa, 2017), has yet to prove its worth. Having received significant support from partners in the form of training and equipment, funding and failing to operationalise in Mali, questions have been raised about its efficacy and relevance (Souaré, 2016; Esmenjaud, 2014). The whole ASF project has become an odyssey for the AU, pushing some member states to establish the African Capacity for Immediate Response to Crises (ACIRC) in 2013 (Esmenjaud, 2014). After several diplomatic theatrics, the ACIRC is now being harmonised with the ASF (African Union, 2019). This has left in its trail some damage to the trust between 183 member states. More so, the significant component of partners’ contribution has turned the ASF, and several other AU activities, into a ‘European project with African participation.’ On the global stage, the UN has primacy for international peace and security and, in fact, some obligation to support African-led operations (Dersso, 2016). Meanwhile, the AU’s over-dependence on the UN and partners such as the EU, the P-3, and now China, for support has undermined its quest for African ownership. Until the jargon ‘African solutions to African problems’ is Africanised (initiated, resourced and controlled mainly by Africans) this ‘cap-inhand’ strategy will only provide unreliable and unpredictable outcomes, with unwarranted distortions in Pan-African security partnership. Overall, African security governance presents an ontological reality that both overwhelms the capacity of APSA to fulfil its mandate and confounds Africans. Despite the fuzziness of the situation, security governance provides a conceptual basis for understanding the Africa security landscape in a unique way, not least through the granularities of the mode of cooperation, the structure of compliance, disparate genealogies and trajectories, geopolitical and geo-cultural underpinnings, intra-regional relationships and multiple pull-and-push effects, as well as entanglements and complicated layers are added on by external actors. In particular, the overdependence of the AU on partners for legitimacy, financial and logistics resources undermines African agency. This thesis thus argues that the deployment of a holistic PanAfrican security partnership approach is needed for a better ontological sense of Pan-African strategic choices and responses to grave circumstances. 5.2.3. A selective approach to African security crises and African-led responses Africa’s strategic experience with the UN Security Council illustrates a recurring theme, animated by predictable delays, outright rejections, and half-hearted funding options. It took the Council eight months to respond decisively to AU/ECOWAS requests to deploy an African184 led force in Mali. The negotiations were characterised by internal diplomatic wrangling, imperialist consciousness, non-convergence of the interests of the P-3, and importantly disagreement on possible UN funding for the African-led operations. On the CAR crisis, it took six months for the UN Security Council to make a decision on the AU’s request for legitimacy and resources. As the French Ambassador observed, the Council had to overcome its apathy (Cinq-Mars, 2015; Welz, 2014). Secretary-General of ECCAS, Allam-Mi, had made the same request about seven months prior. In terms of best practice, a familiar pattern was emerging when the Council repeatedly asked AU/ECOWAS to furnish it with a strategic concept of the operation (Souaré, 2016). A strategic ‘delay tactic’ was in the offing, which the AU/ECOWAS tolerated for eight months. The CAR situation was slightly different as the ECCAS force, MICOPAX, was already on the ground and did not need the authorisation to deploy (Fafore, 2016). All ECCAS needed was a reinforcement of the force’s capacity to match the fastevolving security situation. Nonetheless, there was a delay in the Security Council’s response (Welz, 2014), which led to what scholars say was ‘too little, too late’ (Cinq-Mars, 2015). Figure 5.1 below, illustrates the length of time that it took the UN Security Council to finally respond to these African-led responses to crises (Mali and CAR in green) where lives had been lost and civilians needlessly exposed to untold humanitarian suffering and human rights abuses. The UN Security Council’s behaviour runs counter to its avowed commitment to the Responsibility to Protect (R2P) norm. In part, the norm provides that “where a state fails to protect its citizens, the international community has the responsibility to respond collectively in a timely and decisive manner to provide such protection” (UN General Assembly / Secretary-General, 2009, 18 September; UN General Assembly, 2009, 12 January). 185 FIGURE 5. 1 TIMELINES OF UN SECURITY COUNCIL’S RESPONSES TO AFRICAN CRISES Security Council’s response to African crises 9 8 8 7 6 MONTHS 6 5 4 3 2 1 0.75 0 Libya (2011) Mali (2012) CAR (2013) MILITARY INTERVENTIONS IN AFRICA Source: Author’s Research However, even when the Council chose to act, the decision was half-hearted as it came without the much-needed funding and logistics support. For example, in the case of Mali and the CAR, the Council adopted a familiar strategy by deferring to the use of Trust Funds and bilateral support (Souaré, 2016; Welz, 2016). Scholarly evidence and the UN’s experience show Trust Funds do not work under these circumstances (Souaré, 2016; UNGA/SG, 2009, 18 September), and in the case of Mali it came too late for AFISMA. In fact, because of this unpredictability, the Secretary-General suggested that “If the funds in the trust fund are not adequate to meet the requirements of a peacekeeping operation, the Security Council could consider authorising a supplementary United Nations support package” (UNGA/SC, 2009, 18 September, p. 9). The Council knows too well from the 2000 ‘Brahimi Report’ that mandating an operation without the matching resources is a recipe for failure (UNGA/SC, 2000, 21 August). Thus, both Security Council resolutions 2085 (2012) and 2149 (2014) came short of 186 the needed resources for Mali and CAR, respectively (Security Council Reports, 2012, 2014). Therefore, the Security Council’s action may be considered disingenuous, deliberate and insincere, as well as selective. Indeed, one cannot talk about the Security Council’s actions without alluding to the influential role of the P-3. For both Mali and CAR, the major players were France and the US, the former taking charge of the Security Council’s overall strategic direction, including drafting the resolution, and the latter focusing more on related funding issues. Not surprisingly, the lack of convergence among the P-3 in both cases meant the requests of AU/REC would not be honoured for months. France, in particular, used its privileged positions in the Council and its great power status in Africa, courtesy of la françafrique, to enhance its national interests in Africa (Welz, 2016). Invariably, the P-3 continue to view the African problems with an ‘imperialist consciousness,’ which arguably obstructs them from giving equal weight and attention to African crises compared to those in other regions. Indeed, self-interest exists and will continue to exist, but it does not need to induce fatalism (Hehir, 2015). As Figure 5.1 above illustrates, the Security Council’s response times to African crises varied, but the Council’s slow responses to the Mali and CAR crises are not isolated cases in Africa. The 1994 Rwanda genocide (when close to a million Tutsis and moderate Hutus perished at the hands of Hutus and extremists in a hundred days as the international community stood by), the Darfur crisis (2003-07) (it is estimated that by end of 2006 there were 300,000 violence-related deaths) (Williams, 2016) and Somalia from 2007-09, did not elicit decisive and timely intervention from the Council (Muchie et al., 2013, p. 143; Williams & Boutellis, 2014). Putting it in context, the swift response of the Council to the Libya crisis in 2011 (as illustrated in Figure 5.1 above in the blue column) raises questions about the Council’s selective 187 approach to African crises. The AU opposed the military intervention in Libya, so the pressure to deploy the NATO forces came from non-African member states and organisations. This is highly evinced by the 82 letters from the Secretary-General, the P-5 (P-3, Russia and China), members of the Arab League, individual members of EU and other stakeholders (Saad, 2018; UNGA, 2011, 31 July – 1 August). The Council began meeting on Libya in mid-February and astonishingly adopted resolution 1973 (2011) on 17 March authorising “Member States … acting nationally or through regional organisations or arrangements…to take all necessary measures…to protect civilians and civilian populated areas under threat of attack in the Libyan Arab Jamahiriya” (emphasis added) (UNSC, 2011, 17 March). As illustrated in Figure 5.1 above in just three weeks (the blue column), the Council authorised NATO to intervene in Libya compared to the eight and six months for Mali and CAR, respectively (in the green columns). This anomaly explains the Council’s repeated apathy over sub-Saharan crises vis-à-vis the Libyan case. For consistently opting to service African-led crises with selectivity, the Council has become culpable of pursing a classic policy of selective security in Africa (Robert & Zaum, 2013). In essence, selective security promotes systemic crisis profiling regardless of the urgency. During profiling past characteristics of African crisis dominate the Council’s consideration and obscure both the urgency and reality. Clearly, legitimacy and resource exchange that are exogenously induced cannot guarantee effective and timely Pan-African response to crises. Therefore, this thesis argues that to the extent that the UN Security Council fails to bring the full weight of collective security to bear on specific crises, wars or conflicts, endowed to it by the UN Charter, selective security is at play (Robert & Zaum, 2013). However, the AU and its member states are not innocent either. By reducing its commitment to save African lives to a legitimation process and resource transaction with external actors (Brosig, 2015), the AU has effectively rendered the power behind the 188 Constitutive Act of the African Union (CAAU) meaningless. While the Security Council’s authorisation brought legitimacy to the deployment of the Pan-African forces, it denied the regional forces the opportunity to deploy timeously, a recognised utility of regionalism (Söderbaum & Tavares, 2009). One of the major strains in the relationship between the AU and the UN is about the UN assessed funding for AU-led operations (Meyer, 2014; Welz, 2014). In 1994, Ayittey coined the phrase ‘African solutions to African problems’ to take a swipe at the international community’s response to the crisis in Somalia (Ayittey, 1994; Ani, 2017). Ayittey’s concerns then, as they are today, were not to allow external actors to dislodge African ownership. Nonetheless, the AU’s financial situation is perilous (Kagame, 2017). In 2017, AU member states were expected to contribute 26 per cent of the estimated US$439 million budget of the AU, leaving 74 per cent to external donors. When it comes to the AU’s programmes, the donors fund 97 per cent. By the end of 2016, less than 50 per cent (25) of AU’s 54 members had paid their assessment for that year, 14 members paid about half, and 15 paid nothing at all (Kagame, 2017). Although some progress has been made lately with the activation of the Peace Fund (African Union, 2018). The defunct African Union Peace Fund (PF) has been operationalised with significant results; the AU has already received over $100m and counting. The full endowment is expected to reach $400m in 2021, nonetheless, the UN Security Council remains concerned about the AU’s ability to financially sustain its operations (Williams, 2016). This partly explains the Council’s consistency and tepid response to crises in Africa. The AU and the RECs/RMs should embrace the uncomfortable truth that its partnership with the UN will not bring predictability because as Cravinho (2009, p. 193) notes “there is nothing pre-ordained in this process.” Arguably, that is in part the reason why the Security Council has primary, but not exclusive, responsibility for international peace and security. The 189 debate about the legitimation of African-led operations and funding support from the Council does not cry out for explanation any longer. For as Bellamy (2008, p. 365) rightly argues; Although questions about legality, legitimacy and political will are important, the ultimate test in the direst of situations is whether international engagement succeeds in protecting vulnerable populations. The UN Charter gives the Security Council the primacy for international peace and security. However, given that the UN cannot do it alone, Chapter VIII of the Charter legitimates regional actors to play a complementary role as first responders. In theory, that means regional actors act on behalf of the UN and can benefit from UN’s political, financial and logistics support. Approval for such interventions by the Council are deemed necessary but not considered “a condition sine qua non and can also be granted after the fact” (Dembinski & Schott, 2014, p. 373). In fact, Chapter VIII states in part, “Nothing in the present Charter precludes the existence of regional arrangements or agencies for dealing with such matters relating to the maintenance of international peace and security…”. Yet the AU’s preference has been to obtain prior approval, rendering prompt Pan-African coercive intervention hostage to the Council. Historically, legality, legitimacy and political will are all by-products of strong Pan-African ownership as witnessed in the decolonisation efforts of the 1960s (Bach, 2015). Ultimately, it is only fair to argue that jostling over legitimacy and UN assessed funding for AU peace support operations is both a distraction and counterproductive to the global R2P norm. In doing so, this section has shown that insofar as Pan-African response to grave circumstances is concerned, the Security Council’s selective security and dilatory response to crises in Africa disqualifies it as a reliable partner for prompt Pan-African humanitarian interventions. 190 5.2.4. France – Africa’s great power Great power politics in Africa is largely inimical to Pan-African security partnership. France’s post-colonial legacy in Francophone Africa can be understood through Buzan and Wæver’s (2003) penetration and overlay strategy. In the Mali and CAR case studies, France’s intervention is a common denominator because its motivation (la françafrique) converged with relevant opportunities (inability of Africans to deploy timeously). La françafrique may be explained as an imposed regime (suggesting an asymmetrical interdependence, which is fostered deliberately by a dominant power, through some combination of coercion, co-optation and the manipulation of incentives) created by France after independence to retain control over independent African countries through extensive interplay with the metropole about trade, defence, monetary system (CFA), education and culture (Bovcon, 2013). While France’s deployment of Operation Serval was welcomed by Mali and lauded by many, it became a sore point and source of contention and humiliation for Pan-African efforts (Esmenjaud, 2014). This was a well-planned contingency because France has always perceived that a strong ECOWAS under Nigerian leadership would weaken its grip on the Francophone countries (Ajaye, 2008). As Adebajo (2018) argues France leveraged the paradoxical confluence and clash of both countries’ foreign policies more effectively to outmanoeuvre Nigeria in Mali. Ultimately, Nigeria, the regional hegemon, withdrew its troops from the operational theatre – a geostrategic victory for France. In CAR, France seemed to be an unwilling intervener (Welz, 2014). However, it could not resist the opportunity to deploy Operation Sangaris because CAR is still patronised by the metropole, albeit not to the same degree as countries in the Sahel. Given that France has carried out at least thirty military interventions in Africa since the 1960s (Chafer & Cumming, 2020; Hansen, 2008), the pattern that emerges from these two interventions confirms that France will not hesitate to use force in Africa anytime, crowning itself Africa’s great power. One can safely argue that France’s interests are so entrenched that 191 whether it is willing or not to intervene makes no difference. It has done it so often as to have created an expectation for it at home (France) and abroad (former colonies). Indeed, France has become too African to be distinguished as an external actor except for its consequential impacts. However, as illustrated in the case studies, unmanaged great power influence is detrimental to effective Pan-African responses to crises because it creates a wedge in intraAfrican relations. Yet, la françafrique will not go anywhere unless the AU mounts a fierce and counter Pan-African strategy. Strategically, Africa would need to shift its approach to France’s geopolitics in Africa. Currently, Africa is said to ‘underbalance’ its strategy vis-à-vis the increasing influence of the big powers on the continent. A nation or community underbalances when “it fails to adequately balance against accumulation of power” (Glenn, 2009, p. 525). The AU does not seem to realise that there is a fierce geostrategic competition out there to which it is an unwilling participant. To survive, the AU must learn from the big players “in order to also accumulate power (as well as aggregate capabilities with other states)” (Glenn, 2009, p. p. 532). From the two case studies presented above, there is clear evidence that France wields a ‘triple’ strategic influence on Africa; one through its enduring La Françafrique pact with 14 African countries, two, its privileged P-3 position and as a pen-holder in the Security Council (Chafer, 2014; Welz, 2014), and three, its lead role in the EU. It is important here to remind the AU that only two things need to be satisfied for the Balance-of-Power politics to prevail; “that the order be anarchic and that it be populated by units wishing to survive” (Glenn, 2009, p. 532). Whether the AU realises it or not, the battle lines are drawn and a clear competition between France and Africa over Africa is underway. France needs Africa and African resources to grow its global influence and economy, while global power dynamics remain largely anarchic, if not chaotic. From the evidence, this section shows that if the AU fails to balance France’s overbearing influence on the continent, France will continue to be a wedge in African security governance. 192 5.2.5. African High Politics African high politics undermine collective responses because enmity between political figures, who often focus on pursuing their own parochial political image and status bargaining, weaken solidarity and Pan-African security partnership. ECOWAS leaders were quick to deploy high profile personalities to resolve the crisis through a series of mechanisms. However, being in a Francophone domain meant that France would use its long arm to influence President Blaise Compaoré-led political process in Mali, thereby undermining the ECOWAS’ cohesion and solidarity. The deputy to Compaoré, President Goodluck Jonathan of Nigeria, was sidelined on several occasions, highlighting the level of mistrust and widening the AnglophoneFrancophone divide (Souaré, 2016; Lai, interview 2019). Compounding this, the multiple envoys deployed by the ECOWAS, AU and UN duplicated international efforts, which resulted in, sometimes, different and contradictory positions. For example, the UN supported ECOWAS’ lead on the crisis but not the AU/ECOWAS requests to deploy AFISMA (UNSC, 2012, 12 June; 2012, 11 December). Comparatively, on the CAR crisis, there appeared to be less French intrusion in the political process. The main protagonists were Presidents Idris Déby (Chad) and Sassou-Nguesso (Congo), who were duelling for hegemonic significance. The high politics, coupled with tensions between the AU and ECCAS regarding the transitions, caused unnecessary delays in decision-making (Fafore, 2016; Welz, 2016). It should also be noted that France deliberately suppressed the emergence of a leader in Central Africa so that its own power could not be challenged. Ever since decolonisation, France has never shied away from dominating its own backyard / pre-carré (Meyer, 2011). In both Mali and CAR, the competition among the heads of state undermined the principles of comparative advantage, division of labour, complementarity, as well as Pan-African security partnership. On a positive note, President Sassou-Nguesso’s efforts in CAR became the framework for international engagement, enhancing his leadership credentials in the sub-region (UNSC, 193 2014, 10 April). The AU and UN representatives served as deputies to Sassou-Nguesso in the so-called International Mediation. This thesis submits that President Sassou-Nguesso’s strong leadership could be traced to both the competition for hegemony and a Pan-African obligation. Thus, his two African deputies whole-heartedly supported his lead on achieving a Pan-African cause, thereby amplifying their ‘African Personality’ (Pan-African consciousness). Inter-institutional rivalry also exacerbated high politics between the AU and ECOWAS and ECCAS respectively. Frustrations of AU Chairperson Dlamini-Zuma over the AU’s inability to ‘get its teeth into the Mali crisis’ and wrestle over leadership and ownership are clear manifestations of the negative cathexis of high-politics. Similarly, on CAR, the AUECCASS debacle over leadership of the management of the crisis and ECCAS’ concurrence with ECOWAS that subsidiarity does not mean subordination are highlights of interinstitutional high politics. Unsurprisingly, the pervasive leadership deficit has alarmed respected statespeople and scholars alike (Williams, 2016; Dersso, 2016; Makinda et al., 2015). In early 2019, General Abdulsalami Abubakar, former Nigerian Head of State, reflected on African leadership in the following manner: “With due respect, we are suffering from the dearth of leadership in Africa … unfortunately Pan-Africanism is dying slowly, and there are no champions” (interview with Mina Abdulsalami, Nigeria, 5 March 2019). Hailemariam Desalegn, former prime minister of Ethiopia, could not agree more and stated during an interview with the author; “African leadership is a failure now because old leaders are trying to change constitutions, even reducing their age…change everything without the consent of the people” (interview with Hailemarian Desalegn, Addis Ababa, 27 March 2019). A cursory look at the biennial summits of the Heads of States indicates that the deficit is to the top, worryingly. As of 2017, there was not an easy way to find out the implementation status of more than 1,500 resolutions adopted by the Assembly (Kagame, 2017). Who is in charge of agenda-setting, decision-making, follow-up 194 and accountability? The idea that there is no concrete plan to follow up on decisions of the leaders is not just alarming but ludicrous. Some suggest Africa is suffering from “kwashiorkor” leadership (interview with Tigist Engadaw, Addis Ababa, March 2019). Kwashiokor is the medical condition evident in children that results from severe malnourishment or lack of protein. This aptly sums up the leadership situation in Africa as kwashiorkor patients experience: ….an arrest of growth … decrease in body weight … The severely ill child is apathetic and miserable, shows no interest in his surroundings and resents any disturbance … In the terminal stages, the child may be almost comatose (Naidu, 1962). The lack of congruence on the crisis in Sudan in mid-2019 was a classic example of the leadership deficit in Africa that Saudi Arabia, United Arab Emirates and their proxy, Egypt, exploited to embolden the Transitional Military Council (TMC). Their overt support for the TMC, contrary to the AU position, was confronting but there was no leadership to challenge them (Amao, 2019; Al Jazeera, 2019). It is evident that high politics, a critical factor of PanAfrican security partnership, can shift strategic behaviours and stall timely Pan-African response to grave circumstances. 195 5.2.6. Voice of the people When the Malian population objected to the imminent deployment of ECOWAS in 2012, it became clear that the sub-region had not anticipated anything as complex (Lai, interview, 2019). The Mali coalition, Coordination of Patriotic Organisations in Mali (COPAM) and allies of the Sanogo coup organised protests against the ECOWAS’ deployment with some chanting ‘Down with ECOWAS’ in the capital, Bamako (Tinti, 2012). In fact, the Malian leadership explained that the revolt was an expression of national pride, prestige and pursuit of national interests. On the other hand, some Malians described the coalition as ‘small but vocal minority’, but nevertheless quite significant as international opinion was still divided regarding military intervention (Tinti, 2012). Importantly, this highlighted a gap between the Pan-African elites and their national citizens. Public reactions to political decisions reveal “areas of congruence or cleavage between the understanding of values and norms” by the populace and the position of the leaders (Johnson, 2006, p. 22). According to Dembinski and Schott (2014, p. 365), regional responses to crises must prioritise “voice opportunities of CSOs, international bureaucracies and state executives as well as their pruning and framing strategies.” The policies of the AU, and for that matter, the RECs/RMs, remain largely elitistdriven. The Malian protest reinforced the existence of a trust deficit, which runs deep and is common in intra-African relations (Welz, 2016; Williams & Boutellis, 2014). As Johnson (2006, p. 22) argues, disaffection may come in the form of protest, local grumbling, or biting humour against leaders. The consequence is reduced ‘social capital’ - “the aggregate of the actual or potential resources which are linked to possession of a durable network of more or less institutionalized relationships of mutual acquaintance and recognition—or in other words, to membership in a group” (Bourdieu, in Putman and Goss, 2002) at all levels of governance in APSA. Contrary to the aspirations of Agenda 2063: The Africa We Want, people-centred approaches are deficient and subsequently reflect in limited social interactions and norm196 socialisations. Norms are what a security community accept and expect as modes of behaviour from its members (Johnson, 2006). At the macro level, the AU as an incubator of ideas about peace and security has developed normative frameworks from old non-intervention paradigms, created new institutions and developed substantial operational policies to take forward its nascent conflict resolution and management mechanisms (Makinda et al., 2015; Williams, 2016). Scholarly works show that the relationship between the AU, the RECs/RMs and the African people has limited social capital (Bach, 2015; Engel et al., 2016). It is, therefore, reasonable to submit that weak social capital is responsible for low norm-socialisation and norm-localisation processes, which in turn exacerbates mistrust in Pan-African security partnership. As Momodu stated during an interview, “we are not even invited to the PSC meetings as representative of the RECs” (interview with Momodu, Abuja, 7 March 2019). While, norm-making brings together multiple actors, including diplomats, experts, high and special envoys, bureaucrats, mediators, peacekeepers, human rights observers, electoral observers, external actors, and lately ‘healthkeepers’, Africa’s norm-socialisation and norm-localisation are unevenly applied, partly because the norm-making itself is not monogenic – being birthed from one shell.’ Accordingly, Murithi (2006, p. 29) argues that the Pan-African project “is only being implemented at the level of political and business elites”. The resulting limited normsocialisation has weakened the social capital of the AU across the board. However, the development of the instruments and norms at the continental level is just one side of the story. The norms also have to be socialised, localised and owned by RECs/RMs, member states, and the African people (norm consumers). In practice, the RECs/RMs complain that they access AU directives / communiqués at the AU website just like everybody else (Momodu, interview, 2019), reflecting the poor communication that exists between the centre and the periphery. In doing so, this section shows that the deficit in norm socialisation contributes to weak Pan- 197 African security partnership for African security governance. The bureaucratic walls need to come down to enable an African (formal and informal) way of social interactions between the organisations and the African people. 5.2.7. Bureaucratic Agency Bureaucrats can be a force for good even amid tense relations between their parent organisations at the strategic and political levels. In the Mali case study, the relentless efforts of the bureaucrats from ECOWAS, AU and the UN were consumed by the toxicity of relations between the organisations, and the complex nature of the collaborations. We saw how the AU and ECOWAS representatives were stuck over the name of the Pan-African mission for days until AFISMA was coined. Arguably, absent the high-level politics, such a trivial issue could have been resolved collaboratively without external intervention. The diplomatic gymnastics from the Security Council also dampened the enthusiasm of planners (bureaucrats) whose strategic concepts were reviewed repeatedly with unfavourable results. This explains why bureaucratic interventions were muted in Mali (Souaré, 2016; Lai, interview 2019). On the contrary, lessons from Mali energised the bureaucratic game in CAR and placed bureaucrats in positions of influence from the onset (Welz, 2016; Fafore, 2016). Senior African UN officials on their own volition mediated between the AU and ECCAS to prevent another continental humiliation (UNSG, 2014, 6 March). The UN’s early engagements with the AU, led by this researcher, paved the way for a common understanding between the two organisations. The UN consultations with the AU in Addis Ababa influenced subsequent Security Council resolutions, paving the way for embedding a UN Support Team within MISCA Headquarters to help strengthen its command and control structures and facilitate its transition to a UN operation (UNSC, 2013, 5 December). Informed by this development, the Security Council’s resolution 2149 (2014) was not just evolutionary, but also 198 revolutionary. The ‘transition bible’ made provision for coordination and coherence at the bureaucratic level at different stages of MISCA through its transition to MINUSCA. There is a dialectical relationship between strategic culture and operational behaviour (Johnston, 1995). Lessons from both crises illustrate that bureaucratic creativities and initiatives are muted amid toxic inter-organisational relationships. Conversely, bureaucrats perform better where there is broad political support for collaboration from their parent organisations. Importantly, it is evident that when those collaborations are Africanised, that is, engagements are led and shaped by Africans from all organisations, they are likely to generate promotive interactions, contributing to effective Pan-African security partnership. 5.2.8. Demise of subsidiarity Subsidiarity can be a retrogressive principle in the wake of grave circumstances. The lack of congruence in legal regimes, leadership, and ownership of the management of the Mali crisis pitched the AU against ECOWAS very early in the crisis (Welz, 2014). The AU’s attempt to usurp authority over the crisis met resistance from ECOWAS, characterised by a subordination-arrogance dyad. The resulting tensions between the two organisations stifled collaboration and later resulted in serious competition at the global stage (Welz, 2016). This was evident in the parallel reporting of the two top leaders of AFISMA to AU and ECOWAS, respectively (Souaré, 2016). In the case of the CAR, the patterns of engagement were slightly better but not without acrimony. ECCAS learned from the experience of ECOWAS to keep control of the political process and the leadership positions of both MICOPAX and MISCA (Meyer, 2014). In contrast, ECOWAS lost key leadership positions in AFISMA and the subsequent MINUSMA, leading to the withdrawal of the entire Nigerian contingent from Mali (Souaré, 2016). The initial tensions caused by what ECCAS perceived as the AU’s bullying tactics led 199 to unnecessary delays in the transition from MICOPAX to MISCA. Again, the culprit was AU’s insistence on the subsidiarity principle, which in most cases, manifests itself as a usurpation of power or complete takeover from the sub-region. The principle of subsidiarity or its misinterpretation created a wedge in Pan-African intervention efforts in both cases, denying AU-RECs the opportunity to implement APSA collaboratively and effectively. Even as these relationships call for urgent repairs (Murithi, 2007; Williams, 2016), scholars attribute the tensions to lack of clarity in the principle of subsidiarity, institutional incoherence and misalignment (Boutellis & Williams; Engel et al., 2016; Makinda et al., 2015; Tieku, 2007). However, Witt and Khadiagala (2018) argue that the lack of clarity may no longer be a valid argument because even if additional memoranda were adopted for clarification, there would not be any change in the status quo. This thesis thus argues that the debate is mostly about leadership and ownership over the management of a crisis as well as coerced implementation of subsidiarity. As such, as long as the Heads of State make deployment decisions at the RECs/RMs level and offer the troops and the resources, they would want to retain ownership and leadership of the operations. If ECCAS, arguably one of the weakest RECs, could fiercely resist the AU and convince the UN to retain leadership of the successive missions in CAR, it makes no sense for APSA to continue on the hierarchical ‘subsidiarity’ trajectory. There is also scholarly work to show that the subsidiarity principle may not be the ‘silver bullet’ for APSA. Subsidiarity has not fared any better in other regional security communities. Archarya’s (2011) seminal work for the failure of a collective defence norm to diffuse to South-East Asia during the Cold War is liberating. He argues that South-East Asia’s resistance to the norm of subsidiarity was “vital to preserving their autonomy… sovereignty, territorial integrity, independence and self-determination” (Archarya cited in Bloomfield, 2016, p. 317). Similarly, the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS), 200 Southern African Development Corporation (SADC), and to a small extent, InterGovernmental Authority on Development (IGAD) have all expressed difficulties applying the principle in earnest due to different interpretations (Williams & Boutellis, 2014; and from inteview data conducted in Addis Ababa, Abuja and Libreville, March 2019). SADC’s initial failure to inform the AU before deploying to Lesotho was clearly a trust issue (Darkwa, 2017). It has been argued recently that the principles of subsidiarity and sovereignty pose the greatest challenge to AU’s responses to crises on the continent (Woldemichael, 2021). The problem is persistent failures of this relationship creates negative expectations of future partnership endeavours (Galoub, Gilbert & Wilson, 2009). Psychologists argue the cost of negative expectations is higher than the benefit, even though it can minimize the shock of a negative event (Galoub, Gilbert & Wilson, 2009). Eventually, this may generate low expectations and more failures, which are antithesis to Pan-African security partnership. In doing so, this section shows that subsidiarity under current conditions generate negative political emotions and not a suitable Pan-African security partnership variable for African security governance. 5.3. Conclusion This chapter has demonstrated that despite the incredible scholarly work from fundamental theories on regionalism, regional security communities, regime complexity and general security studies, there is still ‘lack of adequate theory’ on Africa. Their general lack of historical and cultural depth is to blame for the inadequacy. Africa’s experiments with regionalism and regionalisation have resulted in a complex web of networks and entanglements. The establishment of APSA to inherit and operate within these paradigms has been an uphill task for the AU. This challenge is exacerbated by external interventions, some of which are detrimental to regional cohesion. Support from the UN, the custodian of global peace and security, for African-led responses has been anything but predictable and adequate. 201 From the two case studies, the study establishes clear evidence that Pan-African interventions are doomed to flounder when decisions to authorise, finance and support them are left exclusively in the hands of the UN Security Council and other partners. Given the convergence of motivation (la françafrique) and opportunities (presented by Africa’s inability to mobilise and deploy a Pan-African force timeously), France would remain a ‘great’ power in Africa and a wedge in Pan-African security relations. African high politics portend great risk for unhealthy competition among the political and institutional leaders. The intra-African relations from the AU leadership, through the RECs/RMs down to member states, is characterised by deep mistrust which eventuates as the tensions in Pan-African security partnership. These situations cry out for strong Africanness and Pan-African counter strategies. This is exacerbated by AU’s insistence on the application of the principle of subsidiarity according to its top-down interpretation. However, because subsidiarity means a higher order should not interfere if the task is within the competence of the lower order, a subsidiaritysubordination dyad exists between the AU and the RECs/RMs. Also, because of the mistrust in intra-African relations, intensive norm-socialisation and norm-localisation can improve the social capital of the security institutions and member states. Lastly, bureaucratic agency grounded in Pan-African consciousness facilitates AU-UN partnership by influencing decisions of the UN Security Council and the implementing agency in the field. 202 Chapter 6: Towards a Nnoboa Conceptual Framework for Pan-African Strategic Culture Wiase yi mu yedi no nnoboa (Life is an enterprise of mutual aid) – Akan Proverb 6.1. Introduction Calls to place African philosophy at the centre of African security governance in IR and Security Studies are few and far between. Yet so compelling is the case against current models, structures and theories that the matter cries out for renewed attention. Analysis in the preceding chapters demonstrated that African security governance is at a crossroads. The critical point is the lack of Africanness in the theorising, institution-building, relationship management and security practice in Africa. Collectively, these dynamics shape Africa’s security culture, from which the continent’s strategic culture may be derived. A strategic culture provides a lens for understanding the emotional and attitudinal environment within the security community (Gray, 1999). As strategic culture is based on context, we need to ask where the African context in contemporary theory is? Given the lack of Africanness and the dysfunctional nature of current models, this concluding chapter explores to what extent, and how, the Akan (African) concept of Nnoboa could provide an alternative foundation for African strategic culture, which in turn could shape security practice towards more effective responses to grave circumstancing facing the peoples of the continent. The chapter starts with an anecdote on strategic culture as it relates to Africa. It introduces Nnoboa as a heuristic concept for this wider context, but one that is time-tested as an African community organising principle rooted in Pan-Africanism. Of note, Nnoboa shares common traits with several self-help and mutual aid concepts across the continent. In doing so, 203 the chapter discusses universal principles of Nnoboa, and as a novel application in this context, it presents Nnoboa as a new level of analysis. The next section, therefore, introduces a typology of Nnoboa that would become the main conceptual framework for subsequent analysis. The three spheres identified are analysed and conceptualised within the contexts of African folklore and Pan-African institutions for peace and security. Notably, the typology provides a plausible pathway for collaboration through the assessment of threats and capabilities, division of labour and comparative advantage at different levels of governance. The last section makes a compelling case for African strategic culture, using the Nnoboa conceptual framework to analyse selected key variables from strategic theory; identity, values, norms and a perceptive lens. The study demonstrates that the issues derived from the Pan-African security partnership as seen in the above two case studies, intersect with these variables to provide unique insights into how African security actors make strategic preferential choices and behaviours, and ultimately decisions. For each variable, the study explores how, and to what extent, the Nnoboa framework would inspire its operationalisation. Using strategic theory models and Nnoboa’s power of collectivism as the basis for analysis, the chapter provides not only a theoretical contribution to African strategic culture but also a deeper understanding of how actors are rationally bounded in their decision making. 6.2. In search of an African strategic culture Despite Africa’s orientation to violence and its strategic predisposition to use force (Johnston, 1995), inadequate theory on African strategic culture has been highlighted in the literature (Williams, 2007; Frank, 2017). As Frank (2017, p. 44) argues “there is a notable lack of scholarship on strategic culture in Africa”. Given the disparate nature of security policies and practices in Africa by member states and sub-regions, one can easily argue that there is no African strategic culture per se. 204 For this reason, those who have done scholarly work on African strategic culture have geographically delimited the scope of their research. The work of Vrey (2009) provides insights into the Southern Africa Development Community (SADC) region. Interrogating the propensity for SADC to intervene militarily in Lesotho and Democratic Republic of Congo (DRC) from the late 1990s, contrary to its pacifist posture, Vrey (2009, p. 1) concludes that these events may be “indicative of a militarised SADC strategic culture as opposed to the declared pacifist preferences to resolve conflicts.” More recently, Frank (2017) did a comparative study of Uganda and Tanzania as archetypical of sub-Saharan African strategic culture. Stressing the criticality of history to strategic culture, Frank uses the concept of path dependence to trace elements contributing to the decision-making of these two countries over time with regards to the African Union Mission in Somalia (AMISOM). Notably, his research demonstrated how divergent strategic cultures led to Uganda’s decision to deploy to Somalia, on the one hand, and Tanzania’s option not to deploy, on the other. More broadly, Williams (2007) describes the AU’s security culture as interlocking beliefs and cultures that are evident in its behavioural norms, notably the humanitarian intervention regime through Article 4 (h) of the Constitutive Act and the 2007 African Charter on Democracy, Elections and Governance or the Charter on unconstitutional change of government. These two developments have been hailed as significant steps forward, although their implementation remains somewhat indeterminate. According to Williams (2007, p. 258) norms, which “help shape actors’ identities and preferences by setting standards of legitimate conduct,” may help us to analyse security culture. The AU’s decisions that are captured in communiqués, for example, can therefore be viewed as evidence in the development of an African strategic culture. Different experiences in the regions have resulted in varied strategic and security sub-cultures across Africa, making it challenging to develop a coherent continental approach. Indeed, a holistic picture of African security culture involving multi-stakeholders 205 would require a lot more time, rigour and analysis (Williams, 2007). This thesis is an attempt to contribute to such theorising. The 1994 Rwanda genocide served as a wakeup call for Africa to draw on the continent’s inner strength and resources to build one of the most robust collective intervention frameworks in the world. A greater role of Africa in the resolution of crises in the continent is consistent with the mantra ‘African solutions to African problems’ (Ayittey, 1994). Also, by virtue of Article 4 of CAAU, the AU exercises the right to intervene in a member state at the request of the said member state. It can also do so independently when war crimes, crimes against humanity or genocide are deemed to be taking place. These two principles shape AU’s interventionist ethos and form the basis for the build-up of diplomatic and military capability to carry out the new collectivist mandate. Thus, Africa quickly adapted to the new international environment because it could no longer rely upon the UN Security Council nor the great powers. This sums up the emergence and adaptation of AU’s monopoly to use violence. This is proof that political bargains are compatible with rational choices. To determine the presence and level of maturity of strategic culture in a nation or security community, one has to first consider the relevant inputs (sources), then assess them against the attributes or value-laden variables, which comprise the security outputs (Frank, 2017; Johnson, 2006). In human security terms, the inputs could be anything but for conceptual rigour they have to be honed to the key ones that really have impact, including military history and experience, norms, resources, political systems, national security organization and geography, with a focus on ethnic geography. To make sense of this principle in the African environment, this study deploys the analogy of a tree to illustrate how strategic culture may be determined. In the thesis introduction we recall the logical flow of strategic culture, from inputs to assumptions of rationality (Johnston,1995; Johnson, 2006). The tree should provide a simplified, systematic and heuristic strategic construct that one can easily identify with. Partly 206 because strategic culture is a complex and, sometimes, unconscious process, it is not easily discernible (Frank, 207). Thus, using the analogy of a tree is a conscious attempt to localise complex concepts with familiar symbols and patterns of life, which is the goal of this chapter. From the top of the Tree of Strategic Culture as illustrated in Figure 6.1, we observe that the inputs to strategic culture are many and varied, including ideology, religion, ahistorical variables, military power, violent extremism and economic status and many more. Representing the branches and the leaves, these inputs generate value preferences or variables. While there are several variables, this study chose Johnson’s (2006) four security variables, namely, identity, values, norms and perceptive lens, to form the trunk of the tree. Just like the process of photosynthesis, the leaves bring oxygen to the tree, which produces the outputs for the trunk, in this case, the four security variables. The process continues to the roots (rationalities), where the strength of the tree is located. For this illustration, the roots comprise of limited or bounded rationality, process rationality and adaptive rationality, constituting the locus for decision-making and what determines a community’s strategic culture (staying power). In the African context, there may be several factors driving decisions to use force, but this study narrows them to two key issues; availability of the forces and their sustainability (Williams, 2016). This is partly because decisions to intervene in Africa always comes down to who has the authority and funds for the force (Williams, 2016). Here, the study argues that political will is meaningless without the incalculable material component, the lack of which is detrimental to Pan-African effectiveness. If this matter is not settled, the ASF remains an elusive project. This just shows how important this twin requirement is to decision-making. However, as these decisions are made against the backdrop of constraints, a variable principle is needed to help predict choices. 207 FIGURE 6. 1 TREE OF STRATEGIC CULTURE Source: Author’s design Given that adaptive rationality allows the individual or security community to adapt to the environment of choice including historical choices, analogies, metaphors, its tenets are compatible with Africa’s intervention framework. Clearly, there is a striking similarity of characteristics (history choices, metaphors, proverbs) of collective preference to adaptive rationality. That being the case, it is reasonable to replace adaptive rationality with Pan-African 208 rationality, which has been adapting to the ever-changing global environment since the Rwandan genocide in 1994. For this study, we will introduce the Akan version of Nnoboa to reflect better the geocultural relevance of collective preference orientation (for conceptual clarity, the next section is dedicated to Nnoboa). This is illustrative of what can be achieved and also enables the study to make heuristic predictions. The idea is that when Nnoboa is operationalised in a security community, the value preferences or variables will filter through it to generate Pan-African (Nnoboa) consciousness and rationality. This preferred option does not in any way preclude Nnoboa rationality from coming under the remit of limited or process rationalities or a combination of them. It is a gradual process and may be influenced by an aggregation of several decisions and actions (Frank, 2017). In fact, adaptive is preferred because it is more progressive. Subsequently, collective preference orientation, Nnoboa rationality, should constitute one of the roots of the Tree of Strategic culture. By definition, a Nnoboa rationality occurs when the strategic orientation of a security community is chiefly driven by collective preferences to deploy and sustain a force for the stability of the community. This would be a more useful analytical tool for African security studies as we shall shortly demonstrate because as argued by Johnson (2006), value preferences determine the extent to which actors make rational decisions. The key pursuit of this chapter is how, and to what extent, Nnoboa can positively influence collective preference rationality in Africa, noting the challenges of “lacking clarity and purity which strategic theory so often seeks” (Stranchan, 2019, p. 188). 6.3. Nnoboa – an African philosophy for strategic culture? The Akan people of Ghana have used the concept of Nnoboa to mobilise local communities for farming activities for centuries (Appiagyei-Atua, 2000). The Akan philosophy 209 represents one of the most coherent sets of beliefs that have been relatively well researched (Appiagyei-Atua, 2000). Nnoboa is a self-help/mutual-aid concept, several of which exist in Africa. According to Borkman (2006) ‘self-help’ exists when one assumes responsibility for resolving one’s issues by drawing on inner resources. On the other hand, “mutual aid refers to peers who share the common issue coming together voluntarily to interact and solve a problem within a context of reciprocal aid” (Borkman, 2006, p. 10). Examples of traditional self-help practices in Africa include the esusu of Nigeria, temo ikelemba of the Congos, Ubuntu of Southern Africa, the stockfel of South Africa and the ekub, idir, gossa, and mahaber of Ethiopia (Gerdes, 1975). Arguably, Akan political thought is one of the most popular among scholars. Attempts by philosophers such as Appiah to unearth this hidden treasure is vividly captured in the classic book Bu Me Be (Appiah, Appiah & Agyeman-Duah, 2007), which represent the emotions, feelings, folklore, philosophy, songs, customs, virtues, traditions, history, and, to a large extent, the way of life of the community. In a review of Bu Me BƐ, Owusu-Ansah observes that the book: demonstrate(s) in a very positive way that traditional oral-based societies are capable of conceptualising and developing values and ethics that are constructed from keen observations and experiences. [It] preserves valuable knowledge of the past … from which the future must be guided (Owusu-Ansah, 2012). This study is inspired by Murithi’s (2009) call for an increased use of indigenous approaches to building peace and social solidarity in Africa through education and training programmes. Murithi (2006; 2009) used Ubuntu to conduct studies on peacebuilding and social stability and reconciliation. In Southern Africa, the concept of Ubuntu has come to characterise 210 African self-help, resilience, interdependence, respect, caring, and humanity towards one another (Msila, 2008; Van Norren, 2014). Citing the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) of South Africa as an example, Murithi explains how its chair, Bishop Desmond Tutu, relied extensively on his Christian and cultural (Ubuntu) values to guide the whole process. Tutu effectively used aspects of Ubuntu concept regularly to counsel victims and perpetrators through the painful process of truth-telling and reconciliation (Murithi, 2006, 2009). Despite the ubiquity of the spirit of self-help and mutual-aid in Africa, scholars have failed to give local concepts equal analytical opportunities. For example, several principles can be drawn from a variety of Nnoboa practices, although for this study, we will only focus on communalism (collectivism), Pan-African character, and resilience. Nnoboa is a farming practice where village communities undertake communal farming activities for everyone’s farm on a rotational basis during the farming season. Communal living engenders solidarity, as one cannot survive without others. African communal living can be traced to ‘social’ kinship under stateless societies as explained through epoch-scapes in Chapter 1. Under Nnoboa, the tradition of self-help and mutual-aid was designed to fight hunger and famine by ensuring food security in the community. In the same vein, they also provide economic and humanitarian support to each other. Walter Rodney (1973) acknowledges that before the 15th century, the predominant principle of social relations in Africa was that of family and kinship associated with communalism. Nnoboa “symbolises the strength of a people where community members come together to help each other with their farm work and move on to help another when done with the first” (Dartey-Baah, Amponsah-Tawiah, & Agbeibor, 2015, p. 6). As Mbigi (2005, p. 75) notes “community is the cornerstone in African thought and life.” Simply put, the collective whole is always greater than the sum of the individual parts. A second and equally important principle of Nnoboa is its Pan-African dimension. African philosophy encompasses the continent’s anti-colonial discourses and political 211 ideologies (Mazrui, 2014). However, there is a conceptual problem when differentiating PanAfricanism from African philosophy. The two are often intertwined, sometimes blurring conceptual clarity. For this study, African philosophy and Pan-Africanism are mutually reinforcing. The aspect of Pan-Africanism that is of interest in this chapter is ‘African Personality’. If African philosophy were a vehicle, African Personality would serve as its fuel. As Poe (2004, p. 19) argues “the radiance of the African personality is measured in agency: the projection of will on the environment.” To the extent that farming communities rely on each other to self-sustain, retain their dignity and not be beholden to others through overdependence, Nnoboa is deeply Afrocentric. That is because Africans see themselves as agents of change rather than spectators to a historical revolution and change (Legum, 1962). The third principle of Nnoboa is resilience. Several Ghanaian socio-economic structures have adapted Nnoboa, including telecommunication, non-formal banking system cooperatives, microfinance in cocoa farming and national development programmes (Agyeman, 2003; Dartey-Baah et al., 2015; Salifu, Francesconi, & Kolavalli, 2010). Self-help arrangements have been adapted at varied scales and across different strata of African society (Gerdes, 1975). The inherent flexibility and adaptability of Nnoboa are the key constituents for its scalability to higher spheres. Nnoboa has become a living concept because of its continuing relevance and universality. In modern-day Ghana, communities extend this self-help spirit to join hands in constructing schools, hospitals, churches, latrines, cemeteries and anything that would help improve their lives (Badu & Parker, 1992). The resilience of the concept is in the synergy from the combined effort, collectivism, which is greater than the sum of the individual efforts. 212 6.4. Typology of Nnoboa: a new conceptual framework It has long been established that reducing the complex African security situation to levels of analysis based on Westphalian concepts distorts the African story (Buzan & Wæver, 2003). In Chapter 1, this study drew on Williams’ (2016) idea of warscapes to explain that epochal waves of historical events were not reducible to particular levels of analysis. Epochal waves also influence successive waves or bleed upwards to the next wave, creating an African security landscape that is commutatively transformed by waves of regionalisms. Since Nnoboa cannot be confined to particular levels, this chapter adopts the idea of spheres for the different levels of interventions. Spheres of analysis circumvents the individual and bureaucratic levels that Williams (2016) explains are not needed in warscapes because the focus of analysis – the community – consists, among others, individuals and bureaucrats. Traditional methods for conflict resolution and management focus on either the realist paradigm (state-centric) or structural (economic and politico-institutional reconstruction) respectively (Utterwulghe, 1999). While these remain central to security discourse, their units of analysis are restrictive, failing to illuminate the individual, community, psycho-cultural considerations (Utterwulghe, 1999). With a predominantly conservative political tradition in many of its societies (Mazrui, 2014), Africa needs a typology or conceptual framework that is not only plausible but also resonates with the African people. African folklore, myths, proverbs, symbols, motifs, songs, rituals, and traditions can be used “to bring out the specific categories of African thought” (Gyekye, 1987, p. 33). Poe also traces the psychological location of the African to “symbols, motifs, ritual and signs” (Poe, 2004, p. 739) – a clear mental image. Because Nnoboa is all about the community, let us imagine for a moment that the African continent is one big community, without frontiers. Here, the African philosophy and folklore will allow us to dream imaginatively. African concepts of birds inspire this study as they are generally culture-neutral, 213 and their features such as morphology, plumage, vocalisations, habitats and behavioural traits as well as certain belief systems can be used as totems (Deikumah, Konadu, & Kwafo, 2015). The birds are particularly useful because they are not restrained by political boundaries. Their way of life illustrate a preference for a community approach instead of state-centric focus in security governance. The three birds selected for this study are the rooster’s crow (Kokrokoo Akan), guinea fowl (Zabuwa - Hausa)1 and eagle (Tai - Swahili)2 per their relative strengths and capabilities or comparative advantages, and each represents a sphere of security governance s summarised in Table 6.1 below. 6.4.1. Kokrokoo (rooster’s crow) sphere The first sphere of analysis draws on the vocalisation of the rooster in Akan, Kokrokoo. The rooster is the local and domestic resident of all birds, and its Kokrokoo makes it an iconic bird, particularly with rural residents and communities where it serves as the first alarm for the new day. The Ewe3 people of Ghana use the symbol of the crowing rooster to represent good leadership because “a good leader is a person who wakes up his followers to their responsibilities and privileges” (Dzobo, 2010, p. 91). Ironically, this is exactly what the concept seeks to achieve; wake Africans up to their security responsibilities, from the ground up. In the immediate vicinity of threat or crisis, Kokrokoo sounds the alarm and leads the efforts in defining the threats and capabilities of responders. Of note, while the Nnoboa concept locates the Kokrokoo sphere in the local, it is not constrained by state-centricity. It may straddle 1 Hausa is the largest ethnic group in Sub-Saharan Africa, diverse but culturally homogeneous people based primarily in the Sahelian and the savanna areas of southern Niger and northern Nigeria respectively. They can be found in Benin, Cameroon, Ivory Coast, Chad, Sudan, Central African Republic, Republic of the Congo, Togo, Ghana, Eritrea, Equatorial Guinea, Gabon, Senegal and the Gambia (Nairaland Forum, 2020). 2 Swahili, also known by its native name Kiswahili, is a Bantu language. It is a lingua franca of the African Great Lakes region and other parts of East and Southern Africa, including Tanzania, Uganda, Rwanda, Burundi, Kenya some parts of Malawi, Somalia, Zambia, Mozambique and the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) (Wordhippo, 2020). 3 The Ewe people are a West African ethnic group. They live in Ghana, Togo and Benin. They speak the Ewe language which belongs to the Niger-Congo Gbe family of languages. 214 across states and regions. As in devolved management, the central tenet of Nnoboa is that authority is vested in the local and decisions do not have to be continuously referred up to higher authority, unless deemed necessary (Burns et al., 1994). Burns et al. (1994) argue that local authorities tend to make better decisions because they are closer to the recipients of 215 TABLE 6. 1 NNOBOA SPHERES OF SECURITY GOVERNANCE Source: Author’s Design 216 services and more able to assess the impact of their decisions against the risks, as well as the cost-benefit analysis. If a local community accepts to foster security governance, it generates its own resources based on local capabilities and polity. To sustain this in the African context, four principles should be considered. First, as mentioned above, delegated authority ensures local or community ownership. Second, connectivity with the people and norm socialization improves social capital. Third, resource mobilization is enhanced, less sophisticated and improvised as appropriate. Lastly, there is a greater chance of keeping security governance apolitical. However, empowering community-level engagement and leadership portends its own risks and conflicts between the centre and the periphery. Nonetheless, the paradigmatic shift for the community, comprising constituencies such as traditional leaders, civil society organisations, women and youth groups, religious leaders, and cross-border networks, is that they become recognized and active participants in conflict resolution. This approach aligns with new ways to explore “societal effects and perceptions of African interventions” and “an empirical picture of the multiple forms and sources of agency involved in these endeavours” (Witt and Khadiagala, 2018, p. 138). This thesis argues that this is important in developing a more collectivist African strategic culture. This approach may be attractive in Africa not least because a significant number of the countries still lack the capacity to exercise empirical sovereignty (Buzan & Wæver, 2003), the capacity to govern people and territory. 6.4.2. Zabuwa (guinea fowl) sphere Christopher Perrins (2003) mentions that guinea fowls are generally gregarious, movein parties ranging from less than ten to 30, rarely venture far from their key resource, which may be a water hole, a roosting tree, or an important foraging patch. They originate from the African savannah. Cognizant of its limitations to soar high and cover vast areas like eagles and 217 falcons, the guinea fowl is reluctant to forage in or even cross vast stretches of open ground, which may be one of its greatest strengths. Their wild nature leads to lower maintenance. This limitation forces it to cherish and jealously guard the domestic environment. They are very independent, but live in family groups (Clarke & Hall, n.d). This is reflective of the sense of community the RECs/RMs seek to build, but this may constitute a coalition of states outside the realm of current RECs/RMs or intra-REC/RM coordination. Similar to the process in the Kokrokoo sphere, the coalition of states or the RECs/RMs are the first responders to crises in Zabuwa sphere, which may include crises referred from below, Kokrokoo. That means the AU can deploy in support mode from the outset, but it does not automatically warrant its take-over. The logic is that when a house is on fire, it would be wrong to ask the homeowner not to take the lead to put out the fire particularly where help from the fire brigade (international community) can never be guaranteed. 6.4.3. Tai (eagle) sphere The Swahili name for the king of all birds of prey, the eagle, is Tai. As one of the largest of raptors, Tai sphere is reserved for the continental level at the AU. Tai has famously been used to symbolise strength, vision, power and authority by many countries and empires such as an ensign in Roman and French imperial armies and an emblem of the United States. However, even as Tai is generally regarded as the king of birds, it is cautioned not to abuse this authority. We learn from Adages of the Dutch Christian humanist Erasmus (c. 1469–1536) that “the eagle does not catch flies” / aquila non captat muscas (Oxford University Press, 2006). The lesson is that while Tai is strong and powerful, it does not concern itself with trivial matters. Instead, it should use its far-sightedness and strategic advantage to focus on developing and advancing common African positions on issues such as Africa’s place in the global economy, engagement with the UN, EU and big powers, strengthening and socialising norms. 218 Additionally, Tai is characteristically strong and tenacious. It is important to underscore that there is also no need for a fourth or global sphere in the Nnoboa typology as international and external engagement would be handled in Tai sphere as appropriate. 6.4.4. Strategic and theoretical significance The deployment of birds should be seen as epistemic disobedience to the predominantly state-centric approaches to African security studies. Operating in environments where nonstate, private and informal actors are increasingly active, Nnoboa acknowledges the “constellations of multiple actors and the spatial scales and imaginations beyond state-centred perspectives” (Engel et al., 2016). Accordingly, as most African conflicts and crises defy state boundaries (Williams, 2016; Makinda et al., 2015), so too do these birds in their ecological morphology, habits and adaptations. The idea of spheres shows that these type of engagements and entanglements cannot be limited to a particular geographic location on the continent, effectively reducing Africa to one big area of operation. Meanwhile, some observable indicators are needed to be able to empirically trace Nnoboa through its socialisation process. Nnoboa’s collective spirit and group empowerment reinforce its participatory and emancipatory character. For this reason, this study draws on Community Emancipation Theory (CEP) to enhance the Nnoboa typology or conceptual framework. The Akan philosophical school of thought inspired the development of the theory of community emancipation, “based on the Sankofa concept of taking the best of the past to build a better future” (Appiagyei-Atua, 2000). It posits that community development evolves through three broad types of political systems, namely the stateless, the autonomous and the centralised, in that order. To attain the common good of the community, “its constituent members define their needs, assess their capacities and assign duties among themselves,” 219 which is made possible because members choose to place “duties on themselves to accommodate each other’s interests and needs” (Appiagyei-Atua, 2000, p. 175). Through the lens of this theory, a division of labour-comparative advantage-burden sharing triad is located in the Nnoboa philosophy (Appiagyei-Atua, 2000). Nnoboa brings both effectiveness and legitimacy to communal practices by arguing that the solution for a community security governance lies within its ability to define the threats, the capacities required, and tasks to meet the needs. This works well at the community level, but the question remains whether it will remain resilient at successive levels, national, regional and continental. The Nnoboa typology is designed to augment the functionality of CET from ground-up. When combined with the typology, the enhanced theory provides scalability and consistency in methodology at various spheres of governance. This signifies the theory’s utility for analyzing Nnoboa rationality in security communities. As described above, the Nnoboa typology provides a clear delineation of roles from Kokrokoo through Zabuwa to Tai (it may also be applicable to member state-REC-AU relationship). After threat assessment, it becomes evident very quickly whether the capabilities exist in Kokrokoo sphere to address the crisis. In that sense, the community/state level may work together, in close coordination with the next higher order, as a collective first responder to help assess the threats and the capabilities. Reciprocity, accountability, and mutual aid demand that the higher level of competence should be supportive of Kokrokoo from the onset, including possible division of labour. Where a state is responsible for human rights violations against its people, this initial responsibility falls on Zabuwa. Similar procedures should be followed from Zabuwa upwards, although there may be a few exceptions. When communities are completely over-run by insurgents or have become dysfunctional, they should also automatically defer to a higher order. Instances such as trans-border conflicts, inter-REC crisis, and crisis in a North African country, where the League of Arab States competes with the AU 220 for agency (Saad, 2018) should not linger in lower spheres. In all these cases, the full powers of Tai may be deployed. Strategically, most global engagements should take place in Tai sphere where the AU leads, although some external activities would continue at the lower spheres, not least because some partners prefer to work directly with the RECs/RMs and member states. However, in doing so, the AU must solicit help from the RECs/RMs, member states and African people if the threats in Tai sphere outstrip capacities at the AU. Figure 6.2 below illustrates how typical Nnoboa sphere interactions should occur from the beginning of the crisis through management to the resolution phase, with clear delineation of roles. Narrowing the Nnoboa transaction to enhanced CET’s ‘define threats-assess capabilities-division labour’ formula does not only make the process falsifiable but also inductively rigorous. As Echevarria (cited in Frank, 2017, p. 270) argues, “if a concept cannot be defined inductively, it cannot be studied scientifically.” By creating specific pathways for the AU’s intervention or involvement in Kokrokoo and Zabuwa spheres, the demand for clarity in the division of labour in the relationship of the AU-REC-member state becomes redundant. Privileging Nnoboa’s resilience and scalability, the process is applicable at successive spheres of governance. Essentially, when CET is enhanced through Nnoboa typology it strengthens Africa’s collectivist strategic preference for decision-making from the outset, and importantly, theorises a better way to understand African strategic culture. While this typology is designed to capture cross-border communities, non-state actors and traditional authorities, is also at the same time applicable to the state-centric arrangements, namely member state-REC-AU bureaucracies. 221 FIGURE 6. 2 A TYPICAL NNOBOA SPHERE TRANSACTION DURING A CRISIS Source: Author’s design 222 6.5. Towards a Pan-African Strategic Culture In this section, the study interrogates the Nnoboa conceptual framework through the four variables that form the trunk of the Tree of Strategic Culture (as seen above in Figure 6.1); identity, values, norms and perceptive lens. This narrow focus allows rigorous inductive and scientific analysis (Frank, 2017). This illuminates our understanding of the strategic behaviour and value preferences of African stakeholders (Johnston, 1995). When laced with appropriate Adinkra symbols, the variables take on nnoboarised meaning, that is, collectivist behavioural preferences that constitute Africa’s strategic culture (Johnston, 1995). 6.5.1. African identity Strategic culture helps to generate and shape the collective identity of a security community by influencing preferences that inform strategic choices (Glenn, 2009). Identity comprises emotion-laden issues that sometimes suggest that rationalist models be discarded or modified (Kahler,1998). In Africa, Pan-Africanism is the most critical concept that encapsulates the very idea of post-colonial Africa, African character, identity, aspirations and dreams. Of significance, it embodies the philosophical, political, cultural and cognitive characteristics of Africa and its elites. The core objective of Pan-Africanism has always been to reverse the impact of colonialism, enslavement, and humiliation by alien peoples through imperialist and colonial agendas on the continent (Crutcher, 1963). Of significance, “it carries an interpretation of African history, prescriptions as to what is to be done now, and predictions concerning Africa’s destiny” (Crutcher, 1963, p. 2). However, Africa’s self-identity remains obfuscated by the legacies of colonialism. For example, some African leaders use the centralised colonial structures of governance to have a firm grip on power and prolong their regimes hence, the conflicts. Such leaders would naturally be an obstacle to the implementation 223 of the Nnoboa spheres of security governance; as well as deep internal strife, conflicts, poverty and ethnicity. While there are many identity challenges in Africa, two broad strategic issues stand out. First is the confluence of Pan-Africanism and Pan-Arabism. Africa is naturally, religiously and ethnically divided between the Arabs in the North and the people in sub-Sahara Africa. As this study highlighted in Chapters 1 and 2, the self-identity of most North African countries is in the preservation of their Arab identity. For some Arabs, there is also the difficulty of embracing the idea of Pan-Africanism that is rooted in slave history, something they cannot identify with. Over the years, the convergence of the two ideologies has only been achieved through hegemonic leadership in North Africa. For example, Abdel Nasser of Egypt brought the two distinct regions together in the 1950s, while Muammar Gaddafi of Libya and Abdelaziz Bouteflika of Algeria spearheaded efforts in the late 1990s (Saad, 2018). Presently, internal hostilities among the Afro-Arab leaders are blamed for non-operationalisation of the North Africa Regional Capability (NARC) as part of the continental African Standby Force (ASF) (Saad, 2018). Saad suggests that socialisation of Pan-Africanism in North Africa will not happen until there are “nationwide dialogues reassessing the state of Pan-Arabism and deliberating how Pan-Africanism can be accommodated within this context” (Saad, 2018, p. 25). Put simply, Pan-Africanism has no universal appeal in North Africa. Taking this forward, a joint Tai-Kokrokoo sphere project could develop Africa-centred programmes that specifically target and lure populations in the North African countries. By selectively targeting individual states, these should aim at building solidarity around common themes and making the Arabs ‘feel African enough’ to partake in continental endeavours. This undertaking will not be an easy one in the absence of charismatic leadership in North Africa (Saad, 2018). Nonetheless, intensification and socialisation of Pan-African programmes could energise the Arab population, who have hitherto remained aloof to Pan-African issues. This 224 has become even more urgent for the AU as the Arab spring helped to solidify Arab-Muslim identity (Saad, 2018). For example, Tunisia’s 2014 constitution failed to reference Africa explicitly, save as “part of the Arab Maghreb and works towards achieving its unity” (Saad, 2018, p. 25). Furthermore, while Morocco’s recent rapprochement with the AU in 2017 is a step in the right direction, these events together exemplify the paradox of Pan-African and PanArab unity and identity. The question is, can Nnoboa’s approach in this region help to filter Pan-Africanism and Pan-Arabism through the trunk (identity variable) to contribute to Nnoboa rationality? In this regard, NARC remains the best hope to achieve Pan-African collective security in North Africa. The second strategic issue concerns the deep scars left behind by the colonialists in Africa, which is more evident in how Africans continue to identify themselves. In addition to ethnic and national differences, Africans prefer to call themselves Francophones, Anglophones, Lusophones, or Arabs. This is very evident in West African politics, where the Anglophone-Francophone dichotomy is an existential threat to regional cohesion. Arguably, the controversial revolt by Malians against the imminent deployment of ECOWAS in Mali in 2012 depicts an identity crisis. Mali, a founding member of both ECOWAS and the AU, rejected a Pan-African intervention agenda on its soil, sending wrong signals about its own place in continental solidarity, unity, and of course, identity. What triggered this decision is still being debated, but clearly, it did nothing to contribute to the collective preference strategic orientation of the region. Also, how do we explain Côte d’Ivoire’s preference to vote with France to support the NATO intervention in Libya contrary to the African position in 2011? (Welz, 2016). Such a betrayal strikes at the heart of African identity and questions whether such a thing exists on the continent. Clearly, it is not at all unusual for dominant subcultures to impose their cultures on others, manipulate and convince them to accept this alien culture as their own (Johnston, 1995). 225 If African education reproduces knowledge based on foreign ideas, there is little chance for independent African thought (Muchie et al., 2013). The threat is self-evident and risks collective amnesia where Africans do not remember their history, culture and a sense of self. The AU should initiate bold steps towards mitigating the risk of “involuntary mental deAfricanisation” (Wiredu, 1997, p. 2). Article 25 of the CAAU provides that “The working languages of the Union and all its institutions shall be, if possible, African languages, Arabic, English, French and Portuguese” (African Union, 2000, p. 16). In fact, some scholars argue that some African students studying in England became more British than British, and those studying French became more French than the French (Gyekye, 1987; Wiredu, 1997; Muchie et al., 2013). To date, no African language has been operationalised, although Kiswahili has been added to the list. To this end, the AU should invoke Tai’s prowess of vision and leadership to operationalise Kiswahili (given that there are five AU official languages, Arabic, English, French, Portuguese, Spanish and Kiswahili, and yet the African language is rarely used in print or speeches) as a fundamental tool for rebuilding African culture, the solidarity of kinship, tradition, nationalism and economic development. Adopting a common African language would not only help Africans to communicate with one another but also change the way they think through re-education. Gyekye (1997, p. 212) stressed the criticality of language more forcefully, arguing that it enables Africans to “elucidate, analyse, and interpret the philosophy of African peoples and to sharpen its contours on the global philosophical map.” In doing so, Nnoboa becomes a better tool for operationalising African strategic culture in a practical way. The work of Semali (cited in Muchie et al., 2013) identifies four pillars for African centred education. These include to 1) position Indigenous African Knowledge (IAK) as a collective epistemological understanding and rationalisation of community, 2) not only consider, but fully validate and integrate, what ‘local people’ know and do, and what ‘local communities’ have been doing for generations, 3) use community knowledge produced from 226 local history to form literacy skills critical to survival in an African context, and 4) include the knowledge of ‘local people’ about their environment throughout the planning and implementation process of education. The first among them is “To position Indigenous African Knowledge (IAK) as a collective epistemological understanding and rationalisation of community” (Muchie et al., 2013, p. 21). This is the right place for the AU to start to reverse the ‘dangers of mis-education’ on the continent. Based on this guidepost, the AU could define the strategic goal for re-education in Africa, including a roadmap, in consultation with member states, assess what capabilities are required by each member state to implement the language programme. Drawing on the formula of the adapted Community Emancipation Theory, Nnoboa provides agency for socialising IAK right from Kokrokoo through Zabuwa sphere. Certainly, re-education would require significant effort, commitment and motivation across the continent. According to the World Bank, the average literacy rate in Sub-Saharan Africa in 2019 is 65 per cent (World Bank, n.d). This is where a powerful mental image such as the Adinkra symbol Nea onnim, (he who does not know can learn), could make the most impact (see Figure 6.3). FIGURE 6. 3 NEA ONNIM - HE WHO DOES NOT KNOW CAN LEARN Source: Adrinka Symbols and Meanings (2016-2020) Ironically, this symbol is currently being used by the University of Pittsburg’s African Study Program to promote the study and research of Africa, especially the continent’s cultures 227 and societies (University of Pitssburgh, n.d.). It is time to bring it home to promote indigenous knowledge. Serious implementation of IAK would help to solidify a mental image across the continent. In doing so, African leaders and their people can demonstrate a shift in strategic orientation towards Nnoboa rationality conditioned by historically and culturally entrenched imperatives. There is no illusion that this initiative would face political, philosophical, cultural, and financial challenges, even though the need for indigenous knowledge in African literature is never in doubt. There is also no pretense in this study that the adoption of a common language in Africa would automatically translate to the convergence of views and coherence in African security governance. For example, all the North African countries speak Arabic, but they are behind in operationalising the ASF, and the NARC (AU, 2015). Even though the return to vernacular would not miraculously change African philosophical thoughts, doing nothing is also a resignation to continue “carrying other peoples’ garbage” (Wiredu, 1997, p. 2). It is also a delay in a phenomenon whose time has come. Even so, a common language would energise a sense of communality, a security community, and a critical mass of African Personality that is needed for effective Pan-African security partnership. For as Nelson Mandela once noted, “If you talk to a man in a language he understands, that goes to his head. If you talk to him in his own language, that goes to his heart” (Lal, 2014). African identity is also represented in symbols which serve as vehicles through shared decisions and preferences are manifested empirically (Johnston, 1995). The Africa We Want: Agenda 2063, the landmark AU document, is a powerful symbol that not only shows the dawn of a new Africa with an unmistakable identity but also a strategic axiom depicting a people with hope, purpose and a clear agenda for the future (AU, 2015b). At the operational level, the AU’s green and yellow insignia and badges for the green berets and armbands worn by Africa military and police forces have also become powerful symbols for collective identity. Given 228 African resilience throughout the centuries to various forms of slavery and mistreatment from outside forces, the Adinkra symbol wawa aba (seed of the wawa tree) – representing hardiness, toughness and perseverance – acts as the right mental aid and heuristics image of the African identity (see Figure 6.4). FIGURE 6. 4 WAWA ABA - SEED OF THE WAWA TREE Source: Adrinka Symbols and Meanings (2016-2020) It is evident here that Nnoboa framework has the potential to positively influence African strategic culture through language, re-education of the African mind, and mental solidarity. By so doing, this study has demonstrated that turning to Nnoboa concept for solutions to the paradox in African identity is not just heuristic but also helps to emancipate Africans from mental slavery. 6.5.2. African Values This section begins with a disclaimer that there are no universal African values due to the heterogeneous nature of the African culture(s). That notwithstanding, from colonisation to the post-colonial period, African leaders have propounded ideas, beliefs, attitudes and behaviours that have reified certain dominant ideas which can now be regarded as African 229 values. In the area of peace and security, one such dominant philosophy is rooted in PanAfrican theme ‘Africa for Africans,’ ‘African solutions to African problems,’ Kwame Nkrumah’s African Personality, Leopold Senghor’s Negritude, Thabo Mbeki’s ‘African Renaissance’ and Paul Kagame’s call to “mobilise the right mindsets” (Mwai, 2018; and see Legum, 1962; Nkrumah, 1963; Ayittey, 1994; Mazrui, 2014). All these ideas seek to achieve one thing, the dignity of the African. Dignity is essentially the state of being respected, honoured or esteemed. It calls for Africans to view themselves as agents of change and not spectators in their historical evolution. The concepts of solidarity (oneness) and African personality resonate well as they speak to “…freedom and dignity. Dignity… [that] …majestic and magical word… is the mainspring of all…actions” (Legum, 1962, p. 15). Dignity is a cardinal value and virtue in Africa that is rooted in the conservative tradition of African politics (Mazrui, 2014). Indeed, dignity is a value that no African can compromise on, meaning it is universal and informs African security policy, including strategic preferences by member states, RECs/RMs and the AU. As this research has shown, African humanitarian intervention cannot depend on lifelines and handouts from the UN Security Council for effective operationalisation. There were extensive delays, 8 and 7 months, respectively, in the Council’s authorisation of a PanAfrican force for the Mali and CAR crises. The Council’s persistent selective approach to African crises withholds support from the Pan-African institutions to act as first responders and guarantors of their own peace and security. There is both anger and frustration with the way the UN Security Council often downgrades African positions on critical security issues. On the other hand, though, it is not dignifying for Africa to disproportionately depend on the UN and other partners to be able to carry out its most basic and sacred duty for Africa. It is ironic for Africans to fight so hard to liberate and decolonise the continent only to turn round to the same imperial/colonial powers to come and save Africa from Africans. It is also ironic that the 230 international community which failed Africa during the 1994 Rwanda genocide would now be given the opportunity to have the last say as to whether Africa intervenes to save its member state or not. Clearly, none of this is dignifying. However, this paradox can only be addressed through collective responsibility and African agency. It is for this reason that the examples of ECCAS’ rapid deployment to CAR in 2013 and ECOWAS’ deployment to the Gambia in 2016 are worth emulating (Odobo, Andekin, & Udegbunam, 2017). SADC also deployed to Lesotho in 2015 following the coup to stabilise the country without even waiting to inform the AU (Darkwa, 2017). All these deployments followed decisions by respective policy organs at the level of Heads of State, without recourse to international support as a precondition. These strategic orientations can be explained through their commitment to prevailing Nnoboa rationality and the dignity of having African troops representing Africa on the ground (material and symbols). Clearly, the RECs/RMs are the locus for action when it comes to African self-help/mutual-aid in collective security. In line with the Akan saying ‘Life is an enterprise of mutual aid’ / Wiase yi mu yedi no nnoboa, these RECs came together collectively to help a neighbour in need, and the fact that they did so without passing the cap around makes it a dignifying venture. Tragically, the AU-RECs/RMs relationships are also marred with tensions as the former forces the implementation of the principle of subsidiarity without taking into account the dignity of the heads of state who make the decisions in the regions. In both Mali and CAR, the AU position on subsidiarity conflicted with those of ECOWAS and ECCAS, respectively. The resulting animosity, tension and delays in transitions contributed to Africa’s inability to respond timeously and responsibly to these grave circumstances. To preserve their dignity, the regions pushed back, which sometimes resulted in toxic relations such as the AU-ECOWAS subordination-arrogance dyad or the AU-ECCAS tensions over the transition from MICOPAX to MISCA (Souaré, 2016; Welz, 2016). This thesis argues here that because these interactions 231 involve human subjects “what is left unsaid is equally important and non-discursive gestures may be as important as written evidence” (Glenn, 2009, p. 543) because they could have a lingering effect. Sitting through meetings, the researcher observed body languages of bureaucrats and ‘offline’ comments which constituted negative cathexis in the partnerships between the IOs. In dealing with the RECs/RMs, therefore, the Tai-Zabuwa partnership must be guided by preferences rooted in dignity of the actors – mutual respect and understanding of the context. For the dignity of the African, the Adinkra symbol menso wo kƐntƐn, portrays a closer meaning (See Figure 6.5). It literally means ‘I am not carrying your basket’. FIGURE 6. 5 MENSO WO KƐNTƐN – I AM NOT CARRYING YOUR BASKET Source: Adrinka Symbols and Meanings (2016-2020) This self-explanatory name suggests true self-reliance and self-determination. In plain language, it translates as ‘I am not your slave.’ By introducing this mental image to support ‘dignity,’ the study demonstrates that African values can be harnessed to positively change the continent’s strategic orientation towards Nnoboa rationality, where mutual respect and dignity of actors are cardinal. 232 6.5.3. Norms Norms in a security community guide accepted and expected behaviour in a particular security community (Johnson, 2006). This informs the passing of ‘a distinctive mode of thinking’ from one generation to the other (Frank, 2017), allowing for contextual changes in the security environment. Setting standards for the legitimate behaviour of members of the community, norms condition their identities and preferences (Williams, 2007). Africa’s response to grave circumstances is legitimated through different norms at the global, continental, and regional levels. Globally, the AU legitimates its role as the primary responder to peace and security issues in Africa through the recognition of the primacy of the UN Security Council for international peace and security, and the Chapter VIII framework for regional action in the management of peace and security (Ifediora & Aning, 2017). Article 17 of the PSC Protocol provides that the PSC “shall cooperate and work closely with the United Nations Security Council, which has the primary responsibility for the maintenance of international peace and security” (African Union, 2002, p. 25). The AU also abides by the Responsibility to Protect (R2P) norm, which had already been implied in the letter and spirit of the 2000 Constitutive Act of the African Union (CAAU). At the continental level, the CAAU is the main normative framework and it has a significant interventionist orientation. Article 4 h provides that the AU can intervene in a member state in the event of genocide, a crime against humanity and a war crime. Ironically, the RECs/RMs have their own normative frameworks for humanitarian intervention that are independent of the AU’s, especially ECOWAS and SADC. This duality has created multiple security cultures in Africa, leading to overlaps and competitive collaboration, at best. Concerning the implications for continental strategic culture, multiple security or strategic cultures can coexist in a security community based on their unique contexts (Williams 233 & Haacke, 2008). Considerable variations exist from one region to the other as to what variables to include and what not to include in strategic calculus (Williams and Haacke, 2008). But Johnson (2006) argues that strategic culture is not in any way diminished because of incoherence. What needs to be done is to respect the norms at each level of governance, and to the extent possible seek to accommodate each other. While strategic culture may evolve, the very essence of pursuing a political goal remains. However, norms are just norms until they are operationalised by those who are committed to them. As mentioned earlier, the UN Security Council has been consistent in its selective approaches to African crises, offsetting Africa’s intervention plans, such as AFISMA in Mali (Fafore, 2016). Judging by the current trend and the case studies, the strategic preferences that determine decision making on humanitarian intervention in Africa at both the UN and AU will not converge any time soon. Against this backdrop, this study contends that it is of no use to condition African humanitarian intervention on the approval of the Security Council when lives are at stake. Unwittingly, the UN may have forgotten that the AU also has a vote when it comes to African crises and may carry out interventions without the Council’s approval, a la ECOWAS in the 1990s Liberia/Sierra Leone and the 2016 Gambian interventions (AppiahMensah, 2000; Fafore, 2016). In both Liberia and Sierra Leone, the ECOWAS Monitoring Group (ECOMOG) deployed swiftly without prior Security Council authorisation and later served as bridging mechanisms for follow-on United Nations peacekeeping operations (Appiah-Mensah, 2001; Odobo et al., 2017). There is no lack of norms in Africa on peace and security (Williams, 2016). What is missing is a commitment to implement them, which is attributable to factors such as ‘crisis of implementation,’ over-dependence on partner funding, limited structural and institutional alignment (Kagame, 2017), and a general lack of Africanness. Indeed, it is not enough for AU and the RECs/RMs to propagate good norms, if they cannot socialise them among their 234 members. Within the framework of the ongoing AU-RECs/RMs consultations (African Union, 2020), a Nnoboa normative framework of coherence could be developed, mitigating areas of divergence and building on their commonalities. In 2013, African leaders made a ‘strong’ commitment to fast-track the African Renaissance by “ensuring the integration of the principles of Pan Africanism in all our policies and initiatives” (AU, 2013, 13 June). However, the AU remains a dysfunctional organisation in which member states see the limited value, global partners find little credibility, and our citizens have no trust (AU, 2013, 13 June; Kagame, 2017). On top of that, as Kagame notes “the African Union is perceived to be disconnected from its citizens of the continent” (Kagame, 2017, p. 12). The revolt of Malian people against the imminent deployment of ECOWAS in 2012 is an example of a lack of socialisation of Pan-African norms. As far as ECOWAS is concerned, the Malian authorities acted irrationally, contrary to norms and expected behaviour (Johnson, 2006). However, given that the coup-makers in Mali were being forced to hand over to a civilian administration and placed under international sanctions (Souaré, 2016), it made strategic sense to be wary of a regional military deployment, regardless of where it came from. Meanwhile, Pan-African concepts and IR regionalism theories are perceived at the micro-level as elitist driven (politicians, diplomats, practitioners, bureaucrats). The gap reflects a tyranny of elitism, reinforcing the fact that elites or ‘keepers of strategy’ can effectively influence a community’s strategic culture (Frank, 2017). As a communal principle, Nnoboa provides a framework to socialise norms by activating and synchronising the Tai, Zabuwa and Kokrokoo spheres of governance. Kokrokoo’s reach to the grassroots can be leveraged and energised to influence Nnoboa rationality on leadership. The closest example of this happening was the revolt of the people of Burkina Faso in 2013-14 against the incumbent president, Blaise Compaoré (Engels, 2015). As Johnson (2006) argues protest is a manifestation of disaffection. Relying mainly on the 235 African Charter on Democracy and Good Governance as their authority, the populations fiercely resisted former President Blaise Compaoré until he relinquished power and fled the country. The role of media as a political watchdog for norm violations and facilitations its socialisation has to be acknowledged (Kopeć, 2016). The success of the protests demonstrates that when people are empowered to own Pan-African ideas, they can hold governments accountable and prevent abuse of power and injustice, thereby reducing the risk of conflict, El Ghassim Wane, the Chief of Staff, at the AU Commission, was proud to point this out to the researcher (interview, Addis Ababa, March 2019). The Adinkra symbol for norm-socialisation would be boa me na memboa wo (help me and let me help you), which calls for cooperation and interdependence could be useful in influencing behaviour. FIGURE 6. 6 BOA ME NA MEMBOA WO - HELP ME AND LET ME HELP YOU Source: Andrinksymbols (2016-2020) A Nnoboa people-centred approach to Pan-African norms can bring the ‘keepers of strategy’ closer to the African people. However, the Nnoboa framework is falsifiable and transparent at each sphere, and thus it would lead to a less tense strategic environment, thereby creating strategic orientations that are more accommodating from members of the security community. In doing so, the study demonstrates that based on normative frameworks, Nnoboa 236 framework can offer a plausible pathway for a strategic orientation at Tai and Zabuwa spheres of governance that is less acrimonious and more communal. 6.5.3.1. Decision-making processes Decision-making for humanitarian intervention in Africa is at the crossroads. After several years of competitive collaboration, the AU PSC and UN Security Council have not been able to translate their strategic partnership into coherent and timely operational reality (Williams, 2016; Makinda et al., 2015). The gulf is created by strategic dissonance over many issues (ICG, 2019), as well as the Council’s apparent insensitivity towards African dignity. This was highly evident in diplomatic theatrics over the cases of Mali and the CAR in 2012-13 and 2013-14, respectively (Fafore, 2016, Welz, 2016). Similarly, the AU and RECs/RMs are more or less independent and not necessarily connected to a common strategy when it comes to humanitarian intervention. Sometimes AU’s insensitivity towards intra-African dignity also ruins relationships (Souaré, 2016; Fafore, 2016). These disjointed approaches have come at a higher cost to Pan-African integration and African ownership (Makinda et al., 2015; Williams, 2016). Overall, the decisions of AU/ECOWAS and AU/ECCAS to condition their deployments and operationalisation of the African forces on UN and partners’ support were anything but Nnoboa rationality. Deployment plans without self-sustainment fell below the threshold for Nnoboa to be operationalised on the ground. Essentially, they failed because while Africa pledged troops, their deployment and sustainment were linked to the approval of the Security Council and funding from the international community. Meanwhile, triangulating decision-making between the RECs/RMs, AU and UN has created a ‘trilogy of decision centres’, which exacerbate the complexity in AU’s decisionmaking. Notably, the rationalities of the decision-making process are likely to be as divergent as the goals they seek to achieve. While African IOs may be leaning towards Nnoboa rationality 237 (history, metaphors, culture), the Security Council may be pursuing process rationality (ranking its preferences vis-à-vis other commitments, funding and imperial consciousness). Their impact on preference choices and strategic orientations vary significantly and sometimes lead to irrational outcomes. For the African side, cost/benefit analysis is driven mainly by ideational factors such as African character, dignity and normative framework. Meanwhile, the strategic calculus of the P-3 is often shaped primarily by funding and varied vested ‘imperial’ interests. Below, in Figure 6.7 (A – Trilogy of Pan-African decision centres), we show how the three institutions interact non-linearly in their decision-making processes, and because of the bureaucratic layers and political nuances, the status quo takes more time and sometimes creates tensions and misunderstandings about when and how to address a particularly African crisis. This is partly due to the subsidiarity debacle. As the Figure 6.7 shows, a host of constituencies, including member states, partners, civil society organisations, and great powers, add complexities to the decision-making processes. Under Figure 6.7 B- Nnoboa decision-making process, the principle of subsidiarity is eliminated, paving the way for collective preference choices and strategic behaviours, in arguably a much shorter time. This thesis therefore argues that by reducing the decision-making process in Africa to one event/process, timely action for intervention becomes plausible. The findings of this research are consistent with scholarship that supports the idea that the AU should delegate authority and empower capable RECs/RMs to lead peace and security efforts (Fafore, 2016, Darkwa, 2017). Furthermore, in 2014/2015, Afrobarometer survey demonstrated that respondents viewed their respective regional economic communities slightly better than the African Union (Kagame, 2017). The gregarious nature of member states at Zabuwa sphere can be leveraged for a collective preference towards Nnoboa rationality as 238 FIGURE 6.7 A COMPARISON BETWEEN A DECISION CENTRES TRILOGY Source: Author’s design 239 OF DECISION CENTRES AND NNOBOA ECOWAS has repeatedly proven (Odobo et al., 2017). The Zabuwa sphere also creates a space and a congenial atmosphere for hegemons such as Nigeria, South Africa, Egypt and Ethiopia to exercise leadership, including contributing substantial resources to regional efforts. It makes sense, therefore, for the AU to limit its interventions and possible take-overs to conditions mutually agreed upon at Zabuwa sphere, save capacity issues, trans-border crisis and crisis in any of the North African countries. However, this work can only contribute to Nnoboa rationality if there is a fierce urgency for the common and collective good of the security community. Arguably, this could also be facilitated by mental aids. The decision-making process would be assigned the Adinkra symbol Tikoro nko agyina (one person cannot constitute a council), which speaks to the need for power-sharing and consultations (see Figure 6.8). FIGURE 6. 8 TIKORO NKO AGYINA - ONE PERSON CANNOT CONSTITUTE A COUNCIL Source: Adrinkasymbols, 2016-2020 Imagine what could be achieved in a meeting of the AU and the RECs/RMs with this mental image embossed in a conspicuous place and printed on meeting bags, pens, documents and so on. While there are no guarantees that the results would be different without them, it is highly plausible that the symbol would serve as a vivid reminder of the raison d’être of African agency. This thesis argues that at the minimum, such symbols would serve as ‘heuristics which make complex environments more manageable for decision-makers’ (Johnston, 1995). In so 240 doing, it would become evident that Nnoboa typology does not only lead to coherent decisionmaking and collective preference strategic orientation in Africa but it is also a more indigenous, cost-effective and efficient way to respond to grave circumstances. 6.5.3.2. Bureaucratic Agency The context of strategic culture will not be well understood if it does not include the human strategic actors and institutions which embody the culture and interpret how it is understood (Gray, 1999). Where there is enhanced collaboration between the AU and the RECs/RMs, it is possible to collapse some human resources into one component or complementing each other’s secretariats, thereby maintaining lean structures at a reduced cost. As demonstrated in the CAR in 2014, bureaucrats that work together have a greater chance of collaboration, reducing inter-organisational rivalry, and in fact, improve and facilitate the decision-making processes at the decision centres. In CAR, the work of keepers of strategy led to the development of a ‘transition bible,’ contributing in no small measure to the smooth transition between the AU-led force, MISCA, to UN-led mission, MINUSCA, in 2014. The fact that these elites are also referred to as ‘keepers of strategy’ is an important acknowledgement of their unique role. Indeed, what Dembinski & Schott (2014, p. 365) call “institutionally defined voice opportunities of international bureaucracies” should now become a critical part of Pan-African security partnership. Nnoboa typology further underscores that if keepers of strategy from the three organisations collaborate early in the planning processes, involving ‘assessment of needs-capabilities-division of labour’, their common strategic orientation can lead to the timely rapid response from the decision centres, especially the Security Council. To emphasise the need for inter-organisational synergy on African crises, we assign the Adinkra symbol NteaseƐ, meaning understanding and cooperation (see Figure 6.9). This mental 241 image and solidarity reminds the keepers they need each other and can work together, even as they pursue different organisational goals. FIGURE 6. 9 NTEASEƐ - UNDERSTANDING AND COOPERATION Source: Adrinkasymbols (2016-2020) 6.5.4. Perceptive Lens One of the most inscrutable and nuanced variables of strategic culture is Perceptive Lens. It relates to how both actors and outsiders view both the world inside and outside. Johnson describes it as “Beliefs (true and misinformed) and experiences or the lack of experience, which colour the way the world is viewed” (Johnson, 2006, p. 13). For Africa, it reflects how the continent’s history, identity, resilience, dignity, Pan-African character, resources, capabilities, leadership and interventionist ethos enable the continent to conduct itself in domestic and global affairs. Africa’s Perceptive Lens is carefully choreographed to portray the continent as one that has indeed come of age and taken its destiny into its own hands. To this end, African leaders have vowed not to bequeath to future generations the scourge of war and conflicts as espoused in the landmark document, Agenda 2063: The Africa 242 We Want (AU, 2015). On peace and security, the AU draws legitimacy from the CAAU to intervene in a member state in the event of genocide, a crime against humanity and a war crime. Africa’s interventionist ethos is hinged on this norm and its associated inter-locking framework, APSA, which links the RECs/RMs as its building blocks. The AU has since become a key strategic partner of the UN in peace and security, developing a relationship known as ‘partnership peacekeeping’ (Williams, 2016). In the same vein, the EU has also partnered with the AU, establishing the African Peace Facility (APF) as a scheme through which it can channel funds to support African peace support operations. Other partners offer various support to the AU, RECs, or member states bilaterally. Together, these partnerships demonstrate confidence in African agency despite the challenges (Williams, 2016). Generally, Africa can look back with pride at some of the achievements of APSA. The PSC had held over 900 meetings since its inception in 2004, with a heavy focus on military dimensions of security (African Union, 2020). It has also deployed several peace support operations (PSOs), demonstrating strategic orientation towards military interventions, albeit not at the level expected under CAAU. Since 2003, the AU has authorised missions in Burundi, Sudan, Comoros, Somalia, Mali, Central African Republic, in support of Regional Cooperation Arrangements for the Elimination of the Lord’s Resistance Army (RCA-LRA), Multinational Joint Task Force (MNJTF) against Boko Haram and the Group of 5 countries in the Sahel (G5 Sahel) (Williams, 2016; Darkwa, 2017). On the diplomatic front, the PSC has also imposed sanctions against regimes in several countries, including Togo, Mauritania, Guinea, GuineaBissau, Madagascar, Niger, Eritrea, Mali, and Egypt (Williams, 2016). These attest to its commitment to address crises on the continent, regardless of the challenges. All told, the AU stands as a credible international actor on peace and security issues because it demonstrates a general collective preference to use force when deemed necessary. Yet, the key question on the minds of both Africans and non-Africans is to what extent this 243 elaborate arrangement has made Africa more effective in responding to grave circumstances. The answer is mixed, and so is its interpretation, which is the perceptive lens. With regards to AU’s continental’s role, Kagame (2017, p. 6) notes that there is a “perception of limited relevance to African citizens.” It may be recalled that in 2012-13, Africans felt humiliated by its collective failure to deploy a Pan-African force to Mali (Esmenjaud, 2014). Divergent strategic orientations and decisions by the main actors made it difficult to operationalise a Pan-African intervention. In the end, it took France’s military intervention to stop the advance of Islamic insurgents to the capital (Chafer, 2014). The fact that ECOWAS requested the UN Security Council in April 2012 for approval to deploy its force, followed by joint AU/ECOWAS appeals to expedite action, demonstrate a credible strategic intent from Africa. However, to complete a Nnoboa rationality package, the African security institutions ought also to have put in place a Pan-African self-sustainment plan. So, a good intention is not enough if real strategic action is urgently required on the ground, in this case, a military deployment in Mali. Arguably, a Pan-African deployment to Mali in early 2012 would have sent a strong message to the Islamic insurgents about the continent’s willingness to fight alongside Mali, making the French intervention redundant (Fafore, 2016). Indeed, this was a missed opportunity for Africa that came at a cost: a year of humiliation. Having lost self-esteem over the Mali crisis, Africa should now energise the continent to pool resources together, so it will never again be held hostage to the whims of external actors. There is some optimism following the mobilisation of more than $100 million for the AU Peace Fund in the last two years (African Union, 2020). This thesis argues that this is a real test for the AU because its image on Nnoboa rationality hinges on whether it achieves the $400 million target by 2021. The good thing is Africa does not need any lectures on how to mobilise funds and resources from the grassroots. This is germane to the African culture and prevalent across the continent. Mbithi’s example drawn from Harambee self-help/mutual aid in Kenya is quite 244 liberating (Mbithi, 1972). Young married women formed a group known as Eitu ma mbai (united girls for the clan) to support one another. They provided water, firewood, thatch-grass, eggs, banana or grain of rice, and cash to their ‘sister’ to meet her needs. This gesture is repeated on a rotational basis until every ‘sister’ is catered for. However, the Harambee community-giving can be ‘reckless,’ and thus Mbithi questions: “What persuades and sustains such people to keep contributing the hard-earned shilling after shilling, song after song, sweat drop after sweat drop to build public roads, cattle dips, schools, health centres, community buildings, youth centres, fish ponds and bridges?” (Mbithi, 1972, p. 149). Unfortunately, this reckless Africanness is rare in Pan-African peace and security discourse. Anytime Africa fails to mobilise sufficient resources to undertake a humanitarian intervention, African agency is at material risk to underperform. Clearly, to achieve Nnoboa rationality, it is imperative to inculcate the reckless Harambee generosity in African security governance, and political, security and development discourse. As mentioned in this study several times, the lack of clarity in division of labour between the AU, the RECs/RMs, and member states remains a stumbling block for African agency (Kagame, 2017). Furthermore, Nnoboa’s transaction strategy provides for a clear delineation of function between the three spheres of governance, ensuring interdependence and division of labour. Should this be implemented, Nnoboa typology could mitigate the institutional rivalry and tensions among the Pan-African actors, leading to more collective preference for interventions. However, Africa’s strategic orientation is not just an internal matter; there is also significant external input from the big powers, particularly France. Strategically speaking, the AU continues to ‘underbalance’ its strategic orientation visà-vis increasing influence of great powers. According to Glenn, a nation / community underbalances when “it fails to adequately balance against the accumulation of power” (Glenn, 2009, p. 525). From the Mali and CAR case studies presented above, there is evidence that 245 France wields a ‘triple’ strategic advantage and influence over Africa through its enduring La Francafrique pact with 14 African countries, privileged P-3 position and as a pen-holder in the Security Council, and its EU membership (Chafer, 2014; Welz, 2014). In post-colonial period, France has been very proactive in the management of African crises. Today, the French military remains Africa’s great power and a symbol of instability. For example, France military intervened in Ivory Coast (2011) to oust former President Laurent Gbagbo, Mali (2012) to stop the advance of Islamic jihadist from advancing towards the capital and in CAR (2014) to help stabilise the country. Whether the AU realises it or not, it is in competition with France over the soul of the continent in view of the continuing geostrategic significance of France in the last decade. Yet, the silence from the African leadership is deafening. There is no known continental strategy, nor a plan to engage France towards this end. In a very rare moment, though, marking the 55th independence anniversary of Chad in 2015, President Déby declared that ‘we must have the courage to say there is a cord preventing development in Africa that must be severed’ (Sylla, 2017). He said this to express his frustration with the stranglehold the imperialist CFA franc continues to have on francophone African countries. Indeed, the time has come for this cord to broken once and for all. The AU could seize this moment to engage France and the African stakeholders on a practical ‘weaning’ strategy. As with other variables, an appropriate Adinkra (African) symbol would help build solidarity and amplify the African voice globally. In addition to this, the EU continues to finance most peace and security activities in Africa. Since 2004, the African Peace Facility (APF) has provided €2.7 billion to support African solutions to African problems (EU News, 2019). The APF supports critical areas such as conflict prevention, management and resolution structures and mechanisms of the APSA, including the financing of African-led PSOs, such as the Multinational Joint Task Force 246 (MNJTF) against Boko Haram, the African Union Mission in Somalia (AMISOM) or the G5 Sahel Joint Force (Williams, 2016). To redeem its image, this thesis argues that the AU should change its strategic orientation “in order to also accumulate power (as well as aggregate capabilities with other states)” (Glenn, 2009, p. p. 532). Aggregating power, resources and capabilities from its member states and the private sector would enable the AU to counterbalance the weak leadership, lack of strategic coherence, institutional and structural weakness, and overdependence on partner funding (Kagame, 2017). Failing to build resilience around these vulnerabilities would continue to make the AU and the RECs/RMs vulnerable to international manipulation and domestic strife. As Strachan (2019, p. 26) argues, “A standing international organisation with substantial domestic and international legitimacy is necessary to coordinate multilateral action and to create the expectation of regular, effective intervention for peace.” As mentioned above in Chapters 4 and 5, Sassou-Nguesso’s effective leadership of the political process in CAR brought coherence in the mediation efforts, compelling the international community to work with, for, and under him. This was a rare but archetypal Pan-African leadership. Similarly, the AU must take steps to demonstrate that it can also undertake humanitarian intervention in Africa with or without the support of the UN and the wider international community. The UN Security Council has primary, but not exclusive, responsibility for international peace and security, therefore the AU should prioritise collective action in the Tai sphere to galvanise support and resources from member states and the private sector. Current efforts to build up the AU Peace Fund is a step in the right direction. The Adinkra symbol Good farmer is a symbol of diligence, hard work, and entrepreneurship (see Figure 10). 247 FIGURE 6. 10 GOOD FARMER Source: Andrinkasymbols (2016-2020) Depicting the perception of a good farmer in a farming community draws respect because it is indicative of sustenance of the community. This means when Africans pool together, they can generate sufficient wealth to support their interventions. Indeed, this is an appropriate mental imagery needed to counter the dependency mentality. Nevertheless, more needs to be done to change the strategic behaviour of member states towards more Nnoboa rationality, where they commit to supply the troops, and also pay to sustain them for a minimum of one year in theatre. This thesis has shown that notwithstanding its mixed performance on the celebrated interventionist ethos, the AU can change its perception lens (and hence strategic culture) by progressively mobilising capabilities through an aggressive collective preference agenda. To re-balance its strategic orientation against France’s brazen interference, the Adinkra symbol Fawohodie provides the appropriate mental image of Africa’s continuing struggle (see Figure 6.11). Fawohodie means independence, emancipation, justice, and freedom. 248 FIGURE 6. 11 FAWOHODIE Source: Andrinkasymbols (2016-2020) As illustrated in the below Table 6.2, a typical Nnoboa strategic culture with symbols could contribute to achieving ‘African solutions to African Problems.’ By adopting Nnoboa’s concepts for the various activities, the evolving African strategic culture would increasingly reflect timely African response to grave circumstances on the continent. 6.6. Conclusion The goal of this chapter was to address the key research question of the thesis: to what extent, and in what ways, could an African strategic culture underpinned by the concept of Nnoboa improve African-led responses to grave circumstances. The question needed to be unpacked, so the chapter provided a context for the concept of strategic culture. In so doing, the study developed a mental image and a theoretical model, Tree of Strategic Culture, for easy 249 TABLE 6. 2 A TYPICAL NNOBOA STRATEGIC CULTURE WITH SYMBOLS Source: Author’s design 250 dissemination. This facilitated the demonstration of how the inputs of strategic culture translated into security outputs or variables, which ultimately transitioned to three decision rationalities, bounded, process and adaptive (Nnoboa). Introducing Nnoboa rationality into the strategic lexicon challenged current Western-centric forms of thought and facilitated engagement with the subject, empirically. The thesis has demonstrated that despite the muted African voice and philosophy in literature and security concepts in Africa, there is a place to locate African thought and ideas. The study introduced Nnoboa as a community or collective concept of the Akan people of Ghana and Ivory Coast that has principles that may be applied to African security governance. The articulation of a Nnoboa typology or conceptual framework using the concepts of birds is novel and an important first step towards that goal. Using the typology, the study articulated two strategic inputs to AU-RECs decision-making; the adapted Community Emancipation Theory (CET) and Nnoboa sphere transaction. Both are inter-related; the former allows the determination of threats, capabilities and division of labour at each of the spheres, while the latter utilises this information to delineate functions and roles among actors in African security governance in an orderly and predictable manner. The chapter argued for and demonstrated the utility of theoretical ontology for interrogating Nnoboa conceptual frameworks through selected variables to determine to what extent, and how, they contribute to the improvement of Africa’s response to grave circumstances. Importantly, the study demonstrated how Nnoboa concepts, such as Nnoboa rationality, adapted CET and Nnoboa sphere transactions help to map out strategic orientations and decision-making processes of African security actors to use force. With regards to African Identity, the study called for aggressive re-education of the African scholar in his own language to close the gap between artificial groups based on the language of colonisers. By adopting one African language – Kiswahili, there is a greater chance for Africans to enhance their identity 251 and culture, which are key influencers to strategic orientations. On African values, the study found that it would be more dignifying if Africans could work collectively to change the continent’s strategic orientation towards Nnoboa rationality for humanitarian interventions. A Nnoboa people-centred approach to Pan-African norms can bring the ‘keepers of strategy’ closer to the African people. This could create a less tense strategic environment, where members of the security community are more tolerant of each other and interdependent. The study demonstrated that Nnoboa frameworks are falsifiable and can indeed offer a plausible pathway for a strategic orientation at Tai and Zabuwa spheres of governance that is less acrimonious and more communal. The Nnoboa sphere transaction provided a more plausible and logical approach for AU and the RECs/RMs decision-making process to collaborate under one roof (Zabuwa). The study nonetheless recognises AU’s lead role on capacity issues, trans-border crisis and crisis in any of the North African countries. By collapsing the decision-making centres to one, the Nnoboa framework provides an opportunity for coherent decision-making and collective preference strategic orientation but also a more efficient way to respond to humanitarian crises. The study also concluded that by bringing the keepers of strategy together, the AU and the RECs/RMs could rationalise staffing and save costs. On Perceptive Lens, the study found that the only plausible way for the AU to change its ‘perception of limited relevance’ is to proactively mobilise domestic capabilities to respond to grave circumstances with unquestioned Nnoboa rationality. 252 CONCLUSION Prayɛ, sɛ woyi baako a na ebu; wokabomu a emmu / When you remove one broomstick it breaks but when you put them together they do not break. – Akan proverb1 This study sought to underscore and explain the critical underpinnings of the African security landscape and how they shape African ownership and decision-making in response to grave circumstances. In this regard, the study re-defined and broadened the scope of PanAfrican security partnership to encompass several causal factors that influence African security governance, and ultimately strategic culture. The central research question this thesis addressed was: “To what extent, and in what ways, could an African strategic culture underpinned by the concept of Nnoboa improve African-led responses to grave circumstances?” In response to this central question, the thesis addressed the following sub-questions: (i) how have existing theories and models of regional governance contributed to inadequate responses? (ii) how have the existing structure and principles of APSA contributed to inadequate responses? (iii) what empirical evidence is there in recent practice of this inadequacy in responses? (iv) what elements can we take from African ideas and philosophies to structure an alternative means of responding? a. Summary The thesis argued that as long as Africa’s security issues are analysed within a Eurocentric, dysfunctional, ahistorical, and divisive context” (Nantambu, 1998, p. 561), there 1 This African proverb has different variations, but the meaning is the same across the continent. In unity lies strength.” This principle is so essential for maintaining a stable society when it is vulnerable to attacks from neighbouring tribes. 253 is a huge a risk of “involuntary mental de-Africanisation” (Wiredu, 1997, p. 2) across the continent. Both the thesis Introduction and Chapter 1 presented some of the substantial scholarly work done on Africa’s regionalisms and regionalisation processes in order to produce knowledge on Africa’s globalisation trajectory and security. In particular, Chapter 1 sought to explore how existing theories and models of regional governance contributed to inadequate responses. In addition to existing theories in security studies, regional security complexes, regime complexes and a diagnosis of the terrain of struggle in Africa, they provide the most fundamental literature on African security. However, because a considerable portion of the literature on regionalism makes Europe the reference point for African regionalism and security studies, there is a dearth in African philosophical thought. Thus, despite their significant contribution, contemporary literature has been unusually silent on Africa’s deep historical culture, creating a ‘deficit logic.’ This deficit cries out for a radical shift in thinking and writing. The thesis argued that this lack of adequate theory is the fundamental reason for inadequate policies, measures and inappropriate models for Africa security governance. Chapter 2 argued that the African security landscape is inter-woven by a complex web of networks, entanglements and associations by state and non-state actors who make Africa a fluid and active regionalisation theatre. The chapter specifically responded to the thesis subquestion: how have existing structure and principles of APSA contributed to inadequate responses? Again, a substantial portion of these entanglements can be traced to colonial legacy and continuing interference in Africa. It was argued that the African Peace and Security Architecture (APSA) inherited this security complexity as an ongoing odyssey for the AU. Yet, in the midst of this, the AU insists on subsidiarity as the governing principle for security governance. The thesis argued that persisting ‘coerced’ implementation of the principle of subsidiarity brewed significant tensions within the APSA, which generated negative expectations for subsequent engagements (Welz, 2014; Meyer, 2015). Meanwhile, some 254 RECs/RMs and, in fact, the emerging coalitions, build parallel partnerships with external actors independent of the APSA regime. For instance, the study explained the divergence of PanAfricanism and Pan-Arabism through epoch-scapes, which is driven by both ecological and religious reasons. As Saad argues, “North African leaders have struggled to demonstrate a genuine commitment to African affairs” (Saad, 2018, p. 1). This brought us back in a full circle to the continuing influence of the Islamic/ecological regionalism explained in Chapter 1. It was not surprising that the AU acknowledged that progress in the North African Regional Capability (NARC) was lacking (AU, 2015). The study argued that given that the North African countries rank in the top ten with regards to military strength in Africa, the lack of progress is a demonstration of the lack of political will and commitment to Pan-Africanism. Subsequently, the thesis argued that AU’s self-help tool for military intervention, the ASF, is still found wanting (Darkwa, 2017). The complexity is also a reflection that African leaders may be engaged in sovereignty pooling and forum shopping (Engel et al., 2016). The thesis argued that coupled with the multiple memberships and overlaps this complexity generates conflicting national/regional interests, the inability of member states to fully obligate their commitments, as well as questionable loyalties (Bach, 2015). Even though these networks are generally aimed at creating and enhancing bonds between member states, the study found that the tensions they generate often permeate Pan-African security partnership as most regionalisms have security derivatives. Thus, African security structures or arrangements are incredibly complex and complicated. Additionally, the study argued that the AU and the RECs/RMs depend disproportionately on foreign support to operationalise their core activities, including payment of salaries of staff. This challenge is exacerbated by external interventions, some of which are detrimental to regional cohesion. Meanwhile, support from the UN, the custodian of global peace and security, for African-led responses has been anything but predictable and adequate. 255 Chapter 5 served as the link between African security governance and strategic culture. In doing so, the chapter pulled together the arguments in the two case studies in Chapters 3 and 4. The study found that the Security Council has adopted a selective approach to African crises, which is compounded by the imperial consciousness of the members of the P-3. By slowwalking and stymieing AU’s requests for legitimacy and resources, the Council has become redundant and irrelevant to effective implementation of the CAAU in grave circumstances. The Security Council’s selective security and dilatory responses disqualify it as a reliable partner for effective African security governance. The study also argued that France’s penetration and overlay strategy through la françafrique colonial arrangements and ongoing great power politics in Africa are largely inimical to Pan-African security partnership and integration. The study argued that for the AU to strategically counter-balance France on the continent, it must learn from the big players “in order to also accumulate power (as well as aggregate capabilities with other states)” (Glenn, 2009, p. 532). That means the AU must build strong domestic constituencies that serve as its main resource and financial bases for responding to grave circumstances. The thesis argued that African high politics portend great risk for unhealthy competition among the political and institutional leaders. The intra-African relations from the AU leadership, through the RECs down to member states, is characterised by corrosive politics and deep mistrust which eventuate as the tensions in Pan-African security partnership. Both case studies demonstrated how this was exacerbated by AU’s insistence on the application of the principle of subsidiarity according to its top-down interpretation. However, because subsidiarity means a higher order should not interfere if the task is within the competence of the lower order, ECOWAS resisted, creating subsidiarity-subordination dyad between AU and ECOWAS. The Malian revolt against ECOWAS deployment demonstrated mistrust in intraAfrican relations. The social capital of the security institutions and member states can be 256 improved through intensive norm-socialisation and norm-localisation. Lastly, bureaucratic agency or keepers of strategy earned a central place in African security governance and facilitated AU-UN-ECCAS partnership, as well as influenced decisions of the UN Security Council on the CAR crisis. From the evidence adduced, the study concludes that divergence between the objectives of APSA and its institutions can be traced to: i) A lack of adequate theory in African security studies and regionalisms; ii) Complexity of existing structures and principles under APSA, inter-woven by a complex web of networks, entanglements and associations by state and nonstate actors and underpinned by extensive colonial legacies, as well as overdependence; iii) The UN Security Council’s selective approach to African crises; iv) France’s strategic over-reach in African crises through la françafrique, P-3 status in the Security Council and EU member is a wedge in Pan-African integration and cohesion; v) Corrosive political and institutional competition (high politics) within African regional relations and member states stall prompt response to crises; vi) ‘Coerced’ implementation of the principle of subsidiarity which brewed significant tensions within the APSA; vii) Poor norm socialisation on the continent; as well as viii) Poor utilisation of bureaucrats or ‘keepers of strategy’ by the institutions. However, strong African leadership, backed by Pan-African consciousness, is an asset for rallying the international community, such the international mediation under President SassouNguesso. 257 Chapter 6 was designed to respond to the challenges of APSA. The chapter introduced Nnoboa as an heuristic concept that is time-tested as an African community organising principle rooted in Pan-Africanism. Given its roots in African philosophical thought, the chapter used several illustrations and concepts to convey complex issues heuristically. Starting with the Tree of Strategic Culture, the chapter simplified, in a systematic and structured manner, how strategic culture is derived. On its own however, the Tree is meaningless unless it is linked with the novel typology of Nnoboa, which is the main conceptual framework for the chapter. To develop the concept, the thesis identified three spheres of ‘birds’ within the contexts of African folklore and Pan-African institutions for peace and security to illustrate the spheres of governance. Notably, the typology provided a plausible pathway for collaboration through the assessment of threats and capabilities, division of labour and comparative advantage at different levels of governance. The study made a compelling case for African strategic culture, using the Nnoboa conceptual framework to analyse selected key variables from strategic theory; identity, values, norms and perceptive lens. The study demonstrated how these variables analysed through the lens of Nnoboa typology shed light on how actors make strategic ‘preferential’ or rational choices, and ultimately decisions. Moving forward, the study explored how, and to what extent, the Nnoboa framework would inspire operationalisation of each variable, including the use of appropriate African symbols. b. Contribution to theory and policy b.1 Pan-African security partnership Scholars have hitherto analysed African security governance using disparate concepts. From Bach’s and Engel’s regionalisms, Barry Buzan’s regional security complex, Brosig’s regime complex, and Paul Williams’ terrain of struggle analysis, we see different approaches 258 to understanding the African security landscape. These approaches are comprehensive in their own right but fail to give the all-angle view of the ‘statue at the square’ (Corbetta, 2003). While many factors are affecting the proper functioning of APSA, several scholars have focused on the relationship between the AU and the RECs/RMs, for good reasons. This is because APSA cannot serve as the continental framework promoting peace and security in Africa, if both the AU and REC levels fail, separately or jointly (de Albuquerque, 2016). In doing this, though, several scholars and, in fact, policy documents focus disproportionately on the role of subsidiarity. Scholars such as Williams, Makinda, Murithi, and Dersso have critiqued the principle and called for its clarification (Williams, 2016; Makinda et. al., 2015; Murithi, 2008; Dersso, 2016). Nathan, Meyer and Welz also that argue progress in the political process in CAR and/or the lack of it was due to the principle of subsidiarity (Nathan, 2016; Meyer, 2014; Welz, 2014). The AU itself and the UN align themselves with this view, arguing that subsidiarity hampered transitions in both Mali and CAR. For instance, the UN SecretaryGeneral blamed subsidiarity for lack of proper coordination between the AU and ECOWAS and ECCAS, respectively (United Nations, 2015). Analysing African security governance through the lens of subsidiarity has only produced obscured intellectual outcomes. In fact, some scholars doubt whether clarifying the principle would make any difference as long as interactions from below are ignored (Witt & Khadiagala, 2018). The lack of congruence inspired this study to look for an omnibus concept that could tell a fuller story instead of a partial one because a ‘multifaceted approach brings completeness’ (Corbetta, 2003). Against this backdrop, this study was compelled to design a conceptual framework from existing models that is encompassing. Reimagining the concept of Pan-African security partnership to embrace several other factors that are peculiar to the African condition is a first important step to contextualise and re-freshen the intellectual lens. The broad array of variable factors indicates that there is much more happening in African security governance that does 259 not receive adequate attention. However, for the sake of intellectual rigour, these factors are limited to those that have a significant influence on the strategic calculus at the time. Beyond the principle of subsidiarity, factors such as legitimacy, resource scarcity, imperial consciousness, patterns of amity and enmity, penetration and overlay, high politics are very critical in the African context. As demonstrated in the two case studies, Pan-African security partnership allowed a rigorous analysis of behaviours of actors in a systematic, logical, and inductive manner. It provides a holistic and collective framework for analysis. Similar to a fisherman’s net, widening the scope of the conceptual framework increased the chance for more conclusive and scientific outcomes. On the policy front, this approach frees policymakers to turn attention to other burning issues such as inclusive and people-centred initiatives to socialise Pan-African norms. This is a major contribution to extant literature, which has hitherto narrowly focused on disparate concepts to analyse African security governance. b.2 Epoch-scapes In Chapter 1, the thesis argued that there is a consensus in literature that viewing Europe as the main reference point of regionalism study could be misleading (Bach, 2015; Engel, 2016). That means various forms of regionalism may be occurring in sub-Saharan Africa, including neoliberal regional governance, sovereignty-boosting regional governance and regional shadow governance outside Eurocentric models. Accordingly, new research reveals unique regional historiographies and idiosyncrasies shape respective Africa’s regions (Engel et al., 2016; Bach, 2015). However, while current theories acknowledge the existence of historical and cultural gaps, they do not go far enough to address the ‘lack of adequate theory’ (Hettne & Söderbaum, 2000), and seem to defer that to future research. In response to the lack of adequate theory, Ernest Aniche (2020) argues that African integration preceded European colonisation and European integration. In another scholarly 260 work, Okafor and Aniche (2017) provide three phases of African regionalism that pre-date colonialism; namely phase one - the era of Islamization or Arab colonialism, phase two - the era of Diaspora Pan-Africanism or traditional Pan-Africanism, and phase three - the era of European colonialism and the era of modern Pan-Africanism. This ground-breaking approach captures a lot of historical ground in our understanding of African regionalism. But Okafor and Aniche limited their focus to development and economic integration. This is where this study adds that there is a significant security portion to African regionalism. Building on the stellar contribution of Okafor and Aniche, this study contextualised African regionalisms on significant historical moments (epoch) that reveal patterns of interactions, entanglements and relationships with implications for security. The point of departure from Aniche is that this study also draws from historical events that pre-date Islamisation, expanded the scope beyond Islamisation and Pan-Africanism and included significant security idiosyncrasies. In doing so, this chapter reached back in history to develop patterns of cooperation, integration, complementarity and convergence of agendas that could be reverberating in Africa’s strategic orientation and Pan-African security partnership. The study introduced an epochal approach to offer novel and fresh cumulative aspects of the trends of regionalism based on the demographic, cultural, socio-political socialisation. The thesis postulated an epochal approach to regionalism and regional security studies based on entanglements from significant historical events to mitigate the lack of Africanness in theory. The idea of epoch-scapes demonstrates that Africa’s historical events have a cumulative impact on contemporary security partnerships and the strategic orientation of African agency during crises. It is recalled that Pan-African security partnership may entail several variables including kinship and communalism (roots of African philosophy), religious fanaticism (terrorism), mistrust and mutual suspicion, false identity (Anglophone-Francophone) through colonial language and 261 systems, Pan-African zeal for unity, and the paradox of Pan-Africanism and Pan-Arabism (ecological/religious regionalism). Essentially, the study argued that epochal and multi-layered approach helps to establish the indelible imprint of these events on African security landscape (Williams, 2017; Iliffe, 1995), situating the analysis outside the traditional Eurocentric models (Engel et al., 2016). The study argued that this enhanced theory brings complementary value to existing literature, and together should constitute the epoch-scapes. This fills a gap in literature, intersecting the world of regionalisms and African security governance. Given the strong interface between Western ideas and African knowledge and culture, this thesis acknowledged the need to negotiate this space synergistically and carefully, without losing focus on the authenticity and originality of African history. b.3 Nnoboa typology and strategic culture There is a growing sense of whether Africa, as a security community, has a strategic culture despite the propensity of AU member states to collectively use force to address peace and security issues, particularly in case of genocide, war crimes and crimes against humanity (Frank, 2017). However, this is not surprising given the origin of strategic culture from the Cold War days and its narrow definition based on history and military (nuclear weapons) culture (Snyder, 1977). This has since grown to cover areas such as Europe, Southeast Asia, Israel, Turkey, and to a limited extent, Africa (Kopéc, 2016; Frank, 2017). Africa’s very limited share is the inspiration behind this study and the utilisation of African philosophy to bring out what is indeed doable (and observable?) in attaining a predictable strategic culture in Africa. This thesis provided an innovative conceptual Nnoboa framework to make a compelling case for African strategic culture to contribute to extant literature. It was argued that Nnoboa’s unique characteristics such as communalism, Pan-Africanism and resilience 262 (scalability) make it a value-laden principle and a useful conceptual candidate for African security governance. Nnoboa is both participatory and emancipatory in character. Drawing on Appiahgyei-Atua’s Community Emancipation Theory (CET) to generate an enhanced CET model based on ‘definition of threats-capability assessment-division of labour’ impregnated and energised Nnoboa typology to be more useful, falsifiable and operational. This is particularly noted in the assessment and delineation of tasks which currently dominate AURECs/RMs debate over ownership and the principle of subsidiarity (Williams, 2016; Makinda et al., 2015). This contribution is novel and original in both ideology and scope, and it has great potential to bring a paradigm shift in the way Pan-African security governance is intellectually analysed. The Nnoboa conceptual framework is built on “symbols, motifs, ritual and signs”, from where the psychological location of African philosophy and Pan-Africanism can be traced (Gyekye, 1987; Poe, 2004). The thesis used the concept of birds as the central metaphor to captivate the mind of the African and also resonate with the African condition. As Williams (2016) argues, the terrain of struggle cannot be analysed through state-centric approaches and artificial boundaries. The epochal influence of historical events, culture, religion, and politics largely dictate how actors behave and interact in these spatial spheres. The use of the birds is to defy synthetic limitations such as the logic deficit of state-centricity and Western approaches. The study selected three birds or their habits, namely the rooster’s crow (Kokrokoo - Akan), guinea fowl (Zabuwa - Hausa) and eagle (Tai - Swahili) per their relative strengths and capabilities or comparative advantages. The thesis used African names and symbols throughout Chapter 6 to reinvigorate and bring back African philosophical thought to the reader (Wiredu, 1997). Synergistically, Nnoboa conceptual framework pulls together regionalism in its entirety and the idiosyncrasies of Pan-African security partnership to illustrate better the interactions between multiple political, social and cultural realities. This thesis is therefore 263 framed as part of epistemic disobedience to traditional IR theories and security studies. Again, the key innovation is the concept of the birds which is emphasized below. Kokrokoo is selected as the first sphere to represent the alarm that should be sounded when a crisis erupts. While encouraging the involvement of the higher levels of governance, the leadership is never in doubt until a decision is made otherwise. At kokrokoo, leadership is at the local level, and that means interactions from below are not ignored (Witt & Khadiagala, 2018). This is contrary to the current situation where almost every conflict has invoked confusion as to who is in the lead (Williams, 2016). By applying the Nnoboa typology, the thesis forecasts order and independence in decision-making and transitions within the community and collective responsibility during grave circumstances. Similarly, Zabuwa takes the lead on crises that have been handed over or those assumed within its competence. Zabuwa (guinea fowl) is not only one of the most gregarious birds but a tropical bird that originates from Africa. Its communal nature and willingness to protect the weak against a predator are true African characteristics that make the RECs/RMs the preferred locus of action. Without the political buy-in of the RECs/RMs and member states, the ASF would not deploy (Darkwa, 2017). Indeed, the study has shown that there is a high propensity at the regions to lead military interventions as exemplified in SADC’s deployment in Lesotho in 2015 (Darkwa, 2017), and ECCAS’ enhancement of MICOPAX in the CAR in 2013 (Fafore, 2016; Meyer, 2014). These are clear manifestations of strategic orientation towards the use of force. However, as the thesis has argued, when a crisis involves two states or RECs/RMs, or occur in a North African country, it should automatically trigger the involvement or take over by next higher order (Tai), the AU. The third, and final strand, is the Tai sphere which provided strategic space for the AU to engage in global matters and also address conflicts that defy Zabuwa sphere competence. This thesis advocated for the AU not to seek the leadership of every conflict on the continent, 264 even though it has to remain engaged in assessing threats, capabilities and ensuring the equitable division of labour. The thesis created specific pathways for AU’s intervention or involvement in Kokrokoo and Zabuwa spheres, including the demand for clarity in the division of labour. This concept brings to ASPA a significant shift to current AU’s modus operandi, potentially reducing the negative cathexis that often arises due to tensions over the principle of subsidiarity. Any crisis beyond Tai’s competence would be handed over to the UN or maintained under Tai and/or Zabuwa leadership with significant international support (See Figure 6.2). The study developed additional figures and tables to help explain how, and in what ways Nnoboa typology could be used to achieve timely response to grave circumstances. There are significant scholarly contradictions regarding what strategic culture means and what it can achieve (Johnston, 1995; Frank, 2017). To say that this makes it even harder to generate new ideas, particularly in the developing world, is an understatement. The Tree of strategic culture is presented as a visual aid to ease the intellectual frustration and struggle with the concept of strategic culture to the African audience in particular. This achieved two things; psychological and epistemic outcomes. As a mental aid, the Tree of strategic culture brought the concept from ‘out there’ into the familiar domain of the African scholar or practitioner. While not being a perfect model, the study effectively used it to demonstrate how collective preference of strategic behaviour and orientation of the actor can be observed and predicted. Using the Nnoboa rationality to represent the ultimate or the desired Pan-African decision-making for humanitarian intervention, it became plausible to analyse how the variables could either inch the continent closer to or away from a decision to provide troops and self-sustainment. As explained in Chapter 6, when Nnoboa is operationalised as a strategic concept, the value preferences or variables of the security community will filter through it to generate a Nnoboa rationality. Using strategic theory models and Nnoboa’s power of collectivism as the basis of 265 analysis, the chapter provided not only a theoretical contribution to African strategic culture but also a deeper understanding of how actors are rationally bounded in their decision making. In doing so, the Nnoboa conceptual framework fills a gap in IR theory. An important feature that is missing in African strategic culture is the importance of symbols and the value they bring to the process. Powerful symbols create strong bonds in a security community or contribute to its ‘mental solidarity.’ For instance, AU flags, African soldiers in AU arm bands, berets and insignia in places like Burundi, Darfur, Somalia, and CAR serve as a mental aids and sources of pride for the soldiers, the vulnerable populations and the entire continent. This thesis therefore developed samples of Adinkra symbols to demonstrate how African security actors can mobilise support and augment strategic discourse with powerful mental images (see Table 6.2). Assuming Nnoboa rationality as the standardbearer, one is now able to use the Nnoboa typology to analyse and assess the performance of AU and the RECs/RMs in a more scientific and deductive way. For instance, the study demonstrated how Nnoboa rationality could have resulted in a timely deployment of the PanAfrican force in Mali, making the French intervention redundant. The typology is falsifiable and resilient, therefore, the process can also be scaled-up through the three spheres of governance. Importantly, Nnoboa typology addresses one of the thorny issues between the AU and the RECs/RMs – ownership and the division of labour. These two go together, and the typology provides a clear delineation of roles based on CET’s definition of threats-assessment of capabilities-division of labour. This is therefore not just a theoretical contribution to IR and security studies, but also a practical tool for practitioners as they grapple with AU Assembly’s decision to harmonise and coordinate “decision-making processes/division of labour between the PSC and Policy Organs of the RECs/RMs” based on the principles of subsidiarity, comparative advantage and complementarity (African Union, 2019). 266 c. Limitations, challenges and future directions for research As with all theories, the three concepts (Pan-African security partnership, epoch-scapes and Nnoboa typology) require further intellectual scrutiny and refinement to be scholarly useful. Significant data used in this study is based on norms, ideas and spoken words of leaders and relevant actors, as well as researcher’s personal observations. However, in any given culture, misinterpretation of the meaning of language, words, symbols and actions may lead to inadequate information and knowledge. This could be gleaned from the ground-up, given our emphasis on interactions from below. Meanwhile, the study established that norms are elitistdriven in Africa, which suggests that what we capture in a research of this nature is what the research questions allowed. Here, the study concurs with the argument of Werner Heisenberg (as cited in Lim, 2019, p. 2018), “We have to observe that what we observe is not nature itself, but nature exposed to our method of questioning.” For example, as Glenn (2009) asked how do you deal with the thorny issues of nondecisions and other non-observables that may be ruled out in our analysis? As he argues “what is left unsaid may be as important as what has been said and nondiscursive gestures may be important as written evidence” (Glenn, 2009, p. 543). This means the researcher has to immerse himself in different African cultural communities in order for both discursive and nondiscursive expressions can be better understood. Nnoboa is essentially a communal concept, therefore the researcher should have collected data from samples of the Akan community to enrich the analysis and give them a voice. This should be undertaken in further studies so that the concepts will be enriched by actions that are located within the cultural ‘form of life’ where the researcher is immersed in (Glenn, 2009). Even though this thesis does not have to meet the approval of all Africans to be accepted as an African thought, it is important to consider possible drawbacks at this early stage. In developing the Nnoboa conceptual framework for security governance in Africa, this researcher is cognizant of its limitations. The research methodologies and processes deployed 267 are subject to unintended errors through interpretation, assumptions and personal biases despite the best efforts of the researcher to do due diligence. Also, this study has not undertaken feasibility studies on a scale that would allow proper estimates of resources, such as cost, reforms, and a willingness of Africans to commit to Nnoboa concept for security governance. In fact, to the extent that we want to adopt it for security governance, it requires further validation in the field. The concern here should be about whether this study may have overestimated the ability of Nnoboa, especially Kokrokoo sphere, to anchor this new regime at the local community. For instance, some local communities have undergone significant changes due to the severe impact of post-tradition (Buzan & Wæver, 2003). Pro-tradition culture exists where colonialism has significantly altered African cultures and traditions. If the foundation is weak, then the whole superstructure, Zabuwa and Tai, is equally vulnerable. Against this backdrop, it is reasonable to suggest that further research is needed to test, adjust and refine the Nnoboa concept in African security governance. Second, coming at a time when Africa is already a site for predominantly Western experimentation of theories and models (Buzan & Wæver, 2003; Brosig, 2013, 2015; Williams, 2007, 2016), there could be significant epistemic pushback. There is a genuine concern that this could generate fierce contestation in IR and security discourse. We can imagine the sheer resistance to change that could come from the very organisations we are trying to change, the RECs/RMs and the AU. As keepers of strategy, bureaucrats are known to be a force for good or evil. The pendulum can indeed swing either way, making the outcome unpredictable. As members of the norm-entrepreneurship, academics, politicians, civil society organisation, and the private sector will also weigh in. Nevertheless, critiques from these disparate groups are needed to refine the concept. That means the road ahead to reclaim a place for African knowledge and philosophy in IR could be daunting and, in fact, a struggle. Furthermore, one should not underestimate the impact and influence of partners. As the study has demonstrated, 268 external partners in Africa are not just passive observers. They are active with vested interests and would undoubtedly influence African leadership unduly. So, it would be necessary to develop further scholarship with that in mind. At the minimum, it would be useful to socialise the Nnoboa concept at their prime institutions to solicit their support and understanding from the outset so that they do not become saboteurs and norm-rejectors. Also, the ‘terrain of struggle’ is characterised by entrenched education and political tutelage of the West, both Africans and non-Africans. Horton (cited in Gyekye, 1987, p 4) argues that “since Logic and Epistemology together make up the core of what we call Philosophy, we can say that the traditional cultures have never felt the need to develop Philosophy.” But Gyekye (1987, p. 4) pushes back, arguing that philosophy entails “a rational, critical, and systematic inquiry into the fundamental ideas underlying human thought, experience, and conduct - an inquiry whose subject matter includes epistemological concepts and categories.” Overcoming the logic and epistemic deficit is no mean task as Africans have been taught not to value and appreciate their own values, culture and traditions for centuries (Gyekye, 1987). However, even against this backdrop, Nnoboa could, and should, coexist with relevant Western ideas. Clearly, work needs to be done on the intellectual and cultural overlap and intersections. It is therefore liberating that Nnoboa is not claiming to overthrow all knowledge and models that are rooted in Western culture. Third, and crucial to this discourse, however, are the millions of Africans that cannot wait to see some Africanness rhyme through their educational system, national and intergovernmental organisations, television screens, culture, security governance, other beliefs and practices. These are the people who continue to fight for total decolonisation of the continent. However, the march towards African Renaissance will not be easy. This thesis argues that emancipation from mental slavery should precede such a change (Garvey, 1937). It is gratifying to note that Nnoboa is not just a scholarship that claims to be part of epistemic 269 disobedience to Western-centric theories and models, it is also a continuation of the struggle against the legacy of colonialism. In this context, Nnoboa strategic concept would be up against what Wiredu calls the “three superimpositions of colonialism; language, religion and politics” (Wiredu, 1997, p. 1). However, we can take great comfort in the emancipation nature of the concept, which is derived from the spirit of communal and collective participation that Africans are sufficiently endowed with by their ancestry. Finally, should this study provoke and sustain academic interest, it would be a humble, but important, step towards conceptualising a cogent strategic culture (from below) to contribute to a better understanding of Pan-African security partnership and strategic culture. As part of this intellectual revolution, this project has just kick-started the conversation on the need for Africa to invoke dormant but latent African philosophy that is inherent in most cultures across the continent to better analyse the strategic culture of the continent. 270 Bibliography Adebajo, A. (2010). 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Journal of Contemporary African Studies, 35(4), 487-505. doi:10.1080/02589001.2017.1348600. Zoubir, Y. H. (2012). Tipping the balance towards intra-Maghreb unity in light of the Arab spring. The International Spectator, 47(3), 83-99. 302 Appendix: List of Interviewees. (Interviews conducted in 2019) Serial 1 Name Mr Abdel Fatau Musa 2 Mr Jack Christofides 3 4 Mr Michael KingsleyNyinah Mr Walid Abdelkarim 5 Mr Samba Sane 6 Jean-Luc Ndizeye 7 Nicolas Guinard 8 Prof Paul Williams 9 10 H.E. Hailemariam Desalegn Mr El Ghassim Wane 11 Mr Admore Kambudzi 12 Dr Alhaji Sarjoh Bah 13 Gen Francis Okello Position/Organisation Director Africa II, United Nations Department of Political Affairs (DPA) Director Africa II, United Nations Department of Peacekeeping Operations (DPKO) Director, Africa I, UN DPKO Team Leader, Somalia Coordination & Planning Team UN DPKO Team Leader Africa I, UN DPA Political Affairs Officer, AU Peacekeeping Support Team (AUPST), United Nations DPKO Senior Political Affairs Officer, AUPST, DPA Professor, Elliot School of George Washington University Former Prime Minister, Ethiopia Chief of Staff, AU Commission (AUC) Director Peace and Security Department, AUC Head Crisis Management, Post Conflict and Reconstruction Division (PCRD), AUC Acting Head Peace Support Operations Division (PSOD), AUC 303 Location/Remarks New York, United States New York, United States New York, United States New York, United States New York, United States New York, United States Focus Group New York, United States, Focus Group Washington DC, United States Addis Ababa, Ethiopia Addis Ababa, Ethiopia Addis Ababa, Ethiopia Addis Ababa, Ethiopia Addis Ababa, Ethiopia 14 Mr Zinurine Alghali 15 Col Mor Mbow 16 Amadou Diongue 17 Hanna Tetteh 18 Nicholas Shalita 19 Douglas James Langrehr 20 Dr Linda Darkwa 21 Dr Solomon Ayele Dersso 22 Assistant Prof Tigist Engadaw 23 Michelle Ndiaye 24 Mercy Fekadu 25 H.E. General Abdulsalami Abubakar Mrs Salamatu HussainiSuleiman 26 27 Dr Cyriaque Agnekethom 28 Ms Raheemat Momodu Senior Policy Officer, PSOD Head Mission Support Unit, PSOD Senior Officer, AU Peace and Security Council (PSC) Secretariat Special Representative of the SecretaryGenera, United Nations Office to the African Union (UNOAU) Head Political Affairs Section, UNOAU Head Administrative Support Planning Section, UNOAU Training for Peace, Norwegian Institute of International Affairs (NUPI) Commissioner, African Human and Peoples Rights Commission Institute of Peace and Security Studies, Addis Ababa University Director Institute of Peace and Security Studies, Addis Ababa University Researcher, Institute of Peace and Security Studies, Addis Ababa Former President, Nigeria Former Commissioner for Political Affairs, Peace and Security, ECOWAS Director, Peacekeeping and Security, ECOWAS Director, Human Security and Civil 304 Addis Ababa, Ethiopia Addis Ababa, Ethiopia Addis Ababa, Ethiopia Addis Ababa, Ethiopia Addis Ababa, Ethiopia Addis Ababa, Ethiopia Addis Ababa, Ethiopia Addis Ababa, Ethiopia Addis Ababa, Ethiopia Addis Ababa, Ethiopia Addis Ababa, Ethiopia Mina, Nigeria Abuja, Nigeria Abuja, Nigeria Abuja, Nigeria 29 Gen Hassan Lai 30 Ms Julie Sanda 31 Professor Gani Yoroms 32 Tunji Olonode 33 François Louncény Fall 34 Ambassador Baudouin Hamuli 35 Honourable Tabu Abdallah Manirakiza ECCAS African Standby Force Planning Elements 36 37 Anatole Ayissi 38 Baboucar Jagne 39 Amadu Diong 40 Col Jacques Deman 41 Abdel Khader Hareiche 42 43 Anonymous Anonymous Society Organisation, ECOWAS Commission Former Chief of Staff, ECOWAS Standby Force (ESF) Researcher National Defence College, Abuja Lecturer, National Defence College Program Officer, ECOWAS Early Warning Directorate Special Representative of the SecretaryGeneral, United Nations Office for Central Africa (UNOCA) Director, Political Affairs and Early Warning Mechanism of Central Africa (MARAC) Deputy SecretaryGeneral, ECCAS ECCAS HQ Chief of Staff, UNOCA Former Chief of Staff, UN Peacebuilding Office in CAR (BINUCA) Former Senior Political Analyst, UN, Bangui EU military expert, Addis Ababa Former Senior Political Affairs Officer, UNOAU UN Diplomat Practitioner 305 Via phone in Zaria, Nigeria Abuja, Nigeria Abuja, Nigeria Abuja, Nigeria Libreville, Gabon Libreville, Gabon Libreville, Gabon Focus Group interview (15 staff officers) Libreville, Gabon Libreville, Gabon Written responses and phone interview in September 2019. Banjul, Gambia Via phone Abidjan, Ivory Coast Via skype in August 2019, Brussels, Belgium New York, United States New York Addis Ababa

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