At the back of the stadium lies a view of Bloemfontein’s impoverished townships, a defunct power station towering over them. In the back of many peoples’ minds is a sense that the celebration—at a cost of nearly $12.3 million—was in poor taste, and emblematic not of the ANC’s impressive past, but of its uncertain future, and that of the country it now governs.

One development South Africans feel particularly uncertain about is the Protection of State Information Bill, derogatorily referred to as “the secrecy bill.” It would punish journalists who obtain classified information that reveals government corruption, and those who do not turn that information over to the police. Journalists who possess such material would face up to five years in prison; those who publish it, up to twenty-five. Recipients of such information beyond the journalist would also be vulnerable to prosecution. The government claims that the bill will protect the nation from an “increasing threat of espionage” and “foreign spies” which cannot be sufficiently quashed by existing legislation.

In a 1990 article, arguing against the repression of information that had long been so common in her country, South African writer and future Nobel Prize laureate Nadine Gordimer wrote, “Censorship is never over for those who have experienced it. It is a brand on the imagination that affects the individual who has suffered it, forever.” In November of 2011, she repeated her accusation, this time against the ANC, a political organization to whom Gordimer once gave her support, before it was legal to do so.

While Gordimer’s is only one of many public criticisms the law has received, the Protection of State Information Bill is merely the latest in a series of controversies that have involved accusations—and often evidence—of corruption and mismanagement within South Africa, much of it involving the ANC. Furthermore, in recent years, concern has increased over the extent to which the ANC has come to dominate political life in South Africa. In effect, it has created a one-party democracy in which the opposition, while free to exist, has little support.

This domination has thus far not resulted in any deterioration of the nation’s fundamentally democratic nature. Yet on the eve of its 100th anniversary as a political organization, it has become increasingly clear that the ANC’s grip on power has burdened South Africa’s fledgling democracy more than it has encouraged it. The nation’s future internal stability and international reputation as an example of successful democratic transition will depend on the willingness of the organization to favor democratic values over its own position of power, if and when the constituency it has so long represented grows tired of its mediocre governance.

The association of the ANC with liberation and democracy within much of South Africa is hard earned, dating back to the founding of the organization in 1912 to protest racial inequality under British rule and its subsequent use of non-violent boycotts, demonstrations, and appeals to the international community following the beginning of apartheid in 1948. Following the 1960 Sharpeville Massacre, however, ANC founded an armed wing, known as the Umkhonto we Size (Spear of the Nation), and began a campaign of violent resistance alongside their nonviolent struggle throughout the 1960’s and 70’s, as much of their leadership—most prominently, Nelson Mandela—was captured and imprisoned. Beginning in the 1980’s, the ANC began negotiations with officials from the National Party, the majority representative of the white government, which eventually resulted in a comprehensive agreement that determined the political and economic post-apartheid order. In 1994, the ANC won 63% of the popular vote in the nation’s first fully free elections, bringing longtime de facto leader and former political prisoner Nelson Mandela to power.

Though Mandela’s time in power was generally regarded positively—his willingness to retire after just one term garnered comparisons to George Washington—the men who have followed him, all from the ANC, have not been looked upon so favorably. In 1999, just as Thabo Mbeki began his term as leader of South Africa, scandal erupted over an arms purchase of roughly $5 billion by the South African Defense Force from Britain, Germany, France, Italy, Sweden, Spain, and Canada. Accusations of corruption stemmed from bribes allegedly paid to facilitate the deal—bribes that have been associated with both Mbeki and his successor, Jacob Zuma. Schabir Shaik, Zuma’s personal financial advisor, was convicted in 2005 of connection to bribes associated with the arms deal.

Since the 1999 elections, concern domestically and internationally over corruption within the South African government has increased exponentially. In 2011, the Special Investigating Unit, an organization set up to monitor government corruption, estimated that nearly one-fourth of the national budget was mismanaged due to corruption, and is currently investigating 12 billion rand in questionable government dealings. The South African Social Security Agency is alleged to be rife with corruption and financial chaos. The former head of the South African police force, Jackie Selebi, resigned in disgrace after he was found to be purchasing lavish gifts for his wife using government funds and taking bribes from a convicted drug smuggler.

In response, the ANC has seen a diminishing of its support from former allies. Both of its partners in South Africa’s Tripartite Alliance, the South African Communist Party and the Congress of South African Trade Unions, have threatened to dissolve their association due to internal disagreement over economic policies, a move that would threaten a relationship created to strengthen resistance against apartheid. Moreover, prior to the 2009 elections that brought Zuma to power, a number of former ANC supporters split off to form the Congress of the People (COPE), prompting talk of an end to ANC dominance. Though the COPE only garnered 7% of the vote in 2009, they are still regarded as a potential future threat to the ANC’s power.

Despite these developments, the ANC still enjoys the loyalty of many South Africans, who see it as the organization that fought for and eventually won universal suffrage and liberal democracy for their country. Furthermore, the association of Nelson Mandela, a man regarded as both liberator and founder of their young democracy, with the ANC, in addition to his continued support of that organization, has no doubt aided success. But other former supporters of the party, such as Gordimer and Archbishop Demond Tutu, have not been so forgiving. They represent the disillusionment of many with the ANC’s lack of success in encouraging honesty and transparency.

It is only natural that a political party with such vast and total control—one that has in effect become a state and a party all at once—would fall prey to the seduction of easy wealth and luxury. Furthermore, it is equally inevitable that their popular support will diminish over time in the face of such misdeeds.

In 2009, shortly after his party was elected to a fourth term in power, Jacob Zuma announced to a crowd of supporters that the ANC would rule “until Jesus Christ comes.” One can only hope his statement was made in the spirit of hyperbole rather than truth and that, when the time comes, the ANC will give up power in a way that pays respect to both their former leader and the democracy they once helped create.

Anxiously deferring to its allies and playing down its position is not the way the U.S. has traditionally begun a war. Over the weeks preceding UN air strikes on Libya, the administration has come under criticism for its relative inaction in allowing the tides of democracy to waver in Africa at such a crucial juncture. John McCain has argued that Obama waited too long to intervene, while Sarah Palin criticized Obama’s approach as “dithering.” Michael Gerson of the Washington Post characterized Obama’s response in harsh terms: “the reaction hesitant, the process chaotic, the outcome late.” Granted, it may be true that the delayed U.S. response has emboldened Gaddafi’s defiance and caused Libyan opposition to lose ground. These criticisms, however, ignore the local and international ramifications of a unilateral American war that led to such failures as the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. All things considered, the U.S.’s adoption of a support role is in fact appropriate. The postponed U.S. position has allowed the international community to reach a consensus as to the legitimacy of intervention; furthermore, the U.S.’s role as supporter rather than leader will help prevent the perception of this intervention as another American crusade.

It should be recognized that the Libyan unrest is as much a European and Arab problem as it is an American problem, and thus any effort to resolve the Libyan crisis must involve meaningful input and resources from European and Arab states. Europe has high economic and military stakes in maintaining the stability of the region: 1800 kilometers of the Mediterranean coastline belong to Libya, and 85 percent of Libya’s oil exports are exported to Europe. Likewise, the Arab states are geographically, culturally, and politically tied to Libya, and Libya is itself a member of the Arab League. The U.S. should not have to carry the burden of military action that benefits all free nations in the world. It is the shared responsibility of all nations with economic and political stakes in Libya to step up and play a role in resolving the crisis.

By delaying the American response, the U.S. has gained reliable allies in its mission, as European and Arab nations realize the potential impact of Libyan unrest on their national interests if they do not act. Not only has the case for intervention acquired political support from the Arab League, but it has also secured legal approval from the U.N. with a 10-0 Security Council vote, and allowed the lead to be taken by France and Britain, sponsors of the U.N. Security Council Resolution 1973 calling for a no-fly zone. Such a deferrential and non-dominating response has in fact been advantageous, given the potentially disastrous consequences of the alternate path of action, unilateral military action in Libya.

This alternate path is unrealistic: the U.S. cannot handle a third full-scale war. Had the U.S. taken initiative and unilaterally intervened at the start of the armed rebellion, the situation would have degenerated into another American crusade, much like in Afghanistan or Iraq. U.S. forces are already too strained in Afghanistan and Iraq to take on another all-out military intervention. Financially, the cruise missiles fired over Libya by the second evening of the attack have already cost $1 million. With 100,000 troops in Afghanistan and another 47,000 troops in Iraq, it is not militarily feasible to sustain a risky, open-ended commitment in the long term.

Historically, it has been difficult for the U.S. to successfully intervene without the support of the international community. Quick and easy victories such as the Gulf War are rare. More often, interventionist wars lacking in international support such as those in Afghanistan, Iraq, Somalia, and Vietnam quickly evolve into a stalemate that protracts for years. In Libya itself, unilateral U.S. sanctions in 1982 failed to change Gaddafi’s policies. Later, in 1986, the U.S. swiftly launched unilateral air strikes against Libya ten days after the Berlin Discotheque Bombing. The air strikes not only failed to cripple Gaddafi, who announced a spectacular “military victory”, but garnered widespread international criticism Over the last 40 years, it has become clear that the U.S. cannot overthrow Gaddafi by itself.

In addition, a decisive decision to intervene would have led to the perception that the U.S. was orchestrating the downfall of the Gaddafi government. It would have given ground to Gaddafi’s accusations in speeches at Tahrir Square as well as interviews with international news media that the protests were a “colonialist plot”. Such anti-colonialist sentiments have the potential to be very effective in influencing public opinion in many postcolonial countries. An example of this is the U.S.’s 1993 intervention in Somalia to end the starvation of thousands, which was met with increased hostility, rather than gratitude, as the U.S. became more and more embroiled in the nation-building effort.

Furthermore, any U.S.-led invasions may arouse strong anti-American sentiment that could facilitate the political rise of al-Qaeda elements in the region. Al-Qaeda may act to fill the political vacuum resulting from the Libyan chaos if its anti-American rhetoric is successful in appealing to ordinary Libyans. Al-Qaeda franchises such as AQIM (Al-Qaeda in Maghreb) and the LIFG (Libyan Islamic Fighting Group) have historically attempted to seize power in Libya. In order to avoid triggering an explosion of radical Islamic elements taking over, it is of utmost importance that any intervention in Libya not be perceived as a U.S.-led operation.

Significantly, the revolts that have swept the Middle East in recent months have been organic. In Egypt, for example, every step of the revolts, from the protests to the ultimate overthrow of the government, was directed and carried out by Egyptians without U.S. involvement – a fact of great pride among the Egyptians. A minimalist stance on the part of the US ensures the prevention of anti-American sentiments arresting political change. Waiting to secure UN and Arab League approval distributes the responsibility globally, instead of allowing intervention to be branded as an American ploy.

With the U.S. hesitance to strike Libya in mind, no one could credibly argue that the U.S. forcibly intervened. Moreover, the ultimate involvement of the US sends a signal to the leaders of regimes in other Middle Eastern and North African countries, such as Bahrain and Algeria, that the threat of international military intervention is real, and that they will be unable to use the argument of American imperialism to counter public opinion about foreign intervention.

Regardless of how Obama’s actions are interpreted, they have certainly brought about key tactical advantages. Instead of impulsively dragging the country into another war, he has led the international community to align its position on intervention in Libya by presenting an image of caution and restraint for many weeks. Previous administrations have treated the UN as a rubber stamp council in going to war, inviting it to vote on resolutions approving foreign intervention, but intervening regardless of the outcome. That approach deprives the U.S. of genuine cooperation with potential allies critical to the success of a mission. The new approach carved out by the Obama administration, however, has broken from that approach and made it clear that it will not launch any attack that is not approved by the UN. Although UN approval is not necessarily synonymous with prudent action, such an approach effectively shifts the burden of responsibility away from the US. By inviting genuine debate and input from Lebanon, France, Britain, and the Arab League, the U.S. has successfully garnered broad political and military support.

In short, Obama may be ushering in a new era of U.S. engagement in foreign military intervention, breaking from the unilateral paradigm of U.S.-initiated wars from the Bush period. By refusing to act until legal UN approval was obtained and allowing other nations to take responsibility in leading coalitions, Obama may be reshaping the rules for U.S. engagement abroad in a manner that will be beneficial to us in the future. The U.S. is adopting a pragmatic doctrine that will not only reduce economic and military expenses, but also garner international political consensus that will lessen anti-Americanism in the long-term.

In fact, one could almost say there was no revolution at all: although Mubarak is gone, the military regime he led is still in place, complete with nearly all his former officials and generals. Indeed, it was these very leaders who elected to maintain the vestiges of their own wealth and influence rather than defend Mubarak’s rule. Whatever changes or reforms made thus far have lacked substance and been issued by decree, with seemingly no input from any youth opposition groups. In fact, the two groups that seem have had the most influence in directing any changes over the past few months have been the two most established political parties in Egypt: the National Democratic Party (NDP)—Mubarak’s former party—and the Muslim Brotherhood, the world’s oldest Islamist political party and best-organized opposition group in Egypt. Meanwhile, the activists who largely organized and inspired the Tahrir Square protests that overthrew Mubarak have found themselves sidelined, struggling to avoid becoming marginalized in the pivotal upcoming months.

The most dramatic step towards transition thus far has been the referendum on a series of constitutional amendments, but this has caused as many difficulties as it has solved. Early in March, the military unveiled a set of amendments to be approved or rejected as a whole by a popular vote. The move was complicated by the fact that the procedure was in violation of the current Egyptian constitution, with amendments dictated rather than negotiated. Nevertheless, it was the first tangible step that the military took to form a new government and political system. The amendments themselves seek to undo some of the worst abuses of the old system; for example, they require that the President be limited to only two 4-year terms in office and that a state of emergency lasting over 6 months must be approved by a public referendum. But they stop well short of limiting presidential powers, instead requiring the next parliament (with elections scheduled for this September) to write an entirely new constitution within 60 days of being seated.

The unsteady alliance that existed between the youth protest leaders and the Muslim Brotherhood at Mubarak’s downfall did not extend to these amendments. The Muslim Brotherhood, along with the NDP, supported the amendments vigorously, arguing that it was imperative to have a set date for the transition lest the military change course. The youth leaders, however, opposed the amendments, arguing they didn’t go far enough to address demands for reform. Moreover, youth activists worried that scheduling elections for September would benefit well-established parties like the Muslim Brotherhood and marginalize the slew of activist-run groups, which would have very little time to organize before elections.

The amendment package passed resoundingly, with over 77 percent of Egyptians voting in favor of the measures. Much of this support can be attributed to citizen anxiety over the pace of change slowing down. But the support also had a religious component; in its pamphlets urging a ‘yes’ vote, the Muslim Brotherhood argued that the primacy of Islam in Egypt could be threatened if the constitution was immediately thrown out. Those that voted ‘no’ were disproportionately Coptic Christian and Jewish, while those that voted ‘yes’ were disproportionately Muslim. Interestingly, the ‘yes’ votes were also disproportionately from the countryside; a far greater majority voted ‘yes’ in rural than in urban areas, further signifying that the driving force of the revolution is shifting away from the young, secular, and urban protesters that originated it. Frustration over this outcome has led urban protesters back to Tahrir Square, and while they may regain some of their influence, April’s violence has shown that the protest may just as easily backfire.

Even with a schedule in place, Egypt’s democratic transition is at a crucial moment. Protesters are again turning out in droves, and this time the military is uprooting them. Sporadic violence is occurring, often religiously motivated, as with the reported murders of Coptic Christians in late February. The opposition plays a dangerous game as it tries to maintain enough pressure on the army to ensure reform, but not so much as to cause the army to rethink its position and modify the transition schedule. At this critical moment, the United States, with its various policy levers in Egypt, can and should play an important role in making sure the transition stays on track.

For the United States, as well as the people of Egypt, a democratic government is the best possible outcome that can result from post-Mubarak Egypt. Although an authoritarian Egyptian government had aided U.S. interests for decades, it was an inherently inefficient and stagnant regime that stymied the development and vitality of its own nation. Such an arrangement is not sustainable in the long run—at least not without a high cost to the Egyptian people and nation and to U.S. moral authority—and the United States should never have viewed it as such. The United States has sufficient policy levers, most obviously the billions of dollars in aid it grants to the Egyptian government and military each year, to ensure that regardless of the governing coalition U.S. interests may still be upheld.

That being said, the United States should refrain from overtly attempting to impose a democratic political structure in Egypt. The lessons of Iraq and Afghanistan have aptly demonstrated the perils and shortcomings of that approach. There exist, however, a number of actions the United States could take to gently but firmly aid the transition to a form of government accountable to its own people. The U.S. may do this by offering logistical and campaigning assistance and advice to political parties involved in the upcoming elections. If it does this, it should offer assistance to all political parties, including the Muslim Brotherhood, to avoid the appearance a partisan actor. It could also offer legal assistance to the new parliament as it drafts a new constitution. While dictating terms, as it did with Iraq, is inadvisable, there have already been domestic calls for external constitutional assistance. With regards to the military, the United States has financial leverage and deep personal connections it may employ to insist that the military continues with the transition process. It can build on the negotiation networks it built during the first stages of the revolution and present itself as a reliable advisor and ally for the Egyptian army. Indeed, even an arrangement where the military maintains a role of sorts—or at least vestiges of wealth and prestige—in an otherwise popularly elected government, as in Turkey, would be a great improvement from the Mubarak days.

Many are worried about the prospects for U.S. interests in post-Mubarak Egypt. The United States cannot impose democracy on other nations, nor should it openly attempt to stir up democratic uprisings. For many decades, the desire to secure short-term U.S. interests has propped up unsavory regimes and arrangements that are as untenable to lasting prosperity and stability as Mubarak’s Egypt ultimately was. To be fair, Mubarak was one of America’s staunchest allies in the Middle East. However, now that Mubarak has been removed from power, the best course of action for the United States moving forward is to simply aid Egypt in its transitional period.

In the three short months of the “Arab Spring,” waves of young, inexperienced, and unorganized protesters have accomplished what older opposition leaders and ideologues could not in three decades. In Tunisia and Egypt, protestors held out for more than two weeks, braving arrest, oppression, and bullets to see deposed the tyrannical authors of their brutal subjugation. In Yemen and Syria, thousands of men and women are staging protests to demand wide-ranging government reform. And in a desperate struggle to gain freedom and democracy, Libyan rebels have even taken up arms against their own government.

Some hopeful democrats are wondering when this movement will spread to the rest of the Arab world. However, those awaiting the turbulent sparks of Cairo and Benghazi to ignite crowds in Riyadh, Dubai and Doha will have to wait not days, but decades. Unlike citizens of the states currently in revolt, the people in countries such as Saudi Arabia and the UAE have seen great increases in their standard of living, a boom fueled almost entirely by oil revenues. This has allowed the citizens of the oil-states to accept an expedient bargain—a forfeiture of liberty and democracy in return for rapid economic growth.

The common thread among revolting Arab countries is not merely tyranny, but also continued poverty. These countries either lack substantial oil deposits relative to their population, as in the case of Tunisia, Egypt and Jordan, or have refused to share the oil wealth with their people, as in Syria, Yemen and Libya. As an example, Syria ranks 32nd in crude barrels of oil produced, and yet its per capita GDP is only slightly over $5,000.

On the other hand, among the oil-rich Gulf states, only Bahrain has seen substantial unrest, and there the friction is more due to religious rivalry (a majority Shia population ruled over by a Sunni royal family) than from an outpouring of democratic ideals. The other oil-exporting Gulf countries such as Saudi Arabia, Qatar, the UAE, and Kuwait are every bit as repressive as those in revolt; the Saudi Secret Police are some of the most feared in the world. The governments of these states, however, have quite literally purchased their citizens’ acquiescence through stunning economic growth rates. From 1990-2010, the UAE’s per capita GDP grew by 48%, Kuwait’s by 110%, and Saudi Arabia’s by 118%. At $90,149 Qatar has by far the world’s highest GDP per capita; compare that to the US’s $45,989.

In addition to these astounding growth rates, the governments of the oil-states have successfully bought off their people with extensive welfare policies. Saudi Arabia has free medical care and extremely generous unemployment benefits. The Qatari social safety net is so effective that unemployment in 2010 was only 0.5%. Kuwait has no personal taxes at all; not income, sales nor property. Businesses represent the only sector of the economy that pays taxes in the Emirate, and even then the only levy is an exceptionally low flat rate of 15%. Moreover, the awe-inspiring amounts of revenue that come into these Arab governments allow them to react to nearly any situation that threatens the elite hold on power. Most recently, to ensure continued stability in face of the nearby protests, Saudi King Abdullah was able to announce $400 billion additional spending in education, health care, unemployment benefits, and infrastructure over the next four years.

A people cannot be bought forever, however; eventually opposition movements sprout up with demands for political reform. Fortunately for the oil-states’ ruling elite, the enormous profits from oil exports provide them with the resources to squash protests and opposition before they can gain meaningful traction. According to an Amnesty International briefing, in the first 6 months of 2009 Saudi Arabia tried 330 people on very broad “terrorism” charges, virtually all of whom were convicted in closed trials, with sentences ranging from fines to the death penalty. The huge oil revenues plainly allow this scale of repression to take place; more money equates to more weapons, more sophisticated technology, more informants, and most importantly, more funding to buy off potential opposition figures.

In the 20th century, a happy coincidence emerged—the richer a country became, the more democratic it tended to be, and vice versa. The dominant model of economic development, known as the ‘Washington Consensus’, was built upon the twin pillars of economic liberalization and political freedom. Autocrats were therefore confronted with an uncomfortable dilemma—to speed the economic development of their countries, they needed to devolve power to their people.

In this century, however, the astonishing pace of development in several countries is challenging that model. The petro-states of the Persian Gulf clearly demonstrate that democracy need not accompany a high standard of living, although the source of their wealth—oil—can not be replicated in other countries that lack petroleum reserves. A greater challenge to the Washington Consensus comes from China, which is achieving unprecedented wealth creation without the benefit of black gold. The recent buzz among policy wonks has been the possibility of a ‘Beijing Consensus’—the idea that the fastest way to economic riches does not lie on the arduous path towards unruly democracy, but instead on the relatively easy track of continued dictatorship. Although the development models used in China and the Gulf states differ substantially, the essential concept remains the same: an emerging nation may accept autocracy and political repression in return for rising incomes.

Many autocrats in the beginning stages of development, particularly in Africa and Southeast Asia, are looking at the example of the Gulf states and China with relief. This in turn has profound impacts for global politics, dimming Western hopes that democracy will speedily complete its triumph around the world. If the dictators of oil-rich African countries such as the Congo, Sudan and Angola observe that they can achieve social and political stability without having to cede power to their people, we can expect to see fewer, not more, democracies in the developing world.
So while we observe the democratic ferment in parts of the Arab world with awe and hope, we must be mindful that foreign policy cannot be reduced to a simple slogan of “Democracy or bust.” It is quite clear that nowadays dictators may simply purchase stability and tolerance of autocracy with rapidly rising living standards for their people. So as the chaotic crowds gather on the rooftops of Brega and Ajdabiya aiming their rocket propelled grenades at incoming tanks, striving for a political voice, perhaps their war cry should be “Give me liberty, or give me—cash!”

Instead, the election has done just the opposite. The current president, Laurent Gbagbo, nullified the victory (certified by independent international observers) of a longtime prominent opponent, Alassane Ouattara, and has vowed to stay in power by any means necessary, defying calls from the international community to step down. How the international community reacts to this flagrant abuse of power will have an impact throughout West Africa – a region only just beginning to emerge from civil war and political upheaval – and will speak volumes for how a rising Africa ranks as a global international issue in the 21^st century.

With President Gbagbo still commanding the loyalty of the military and Mr. Ouattara backed by the rebellious Northern provinces and the leader of the rebel New Forces militia, Gulliame Soro, Côte d’Ivoire is on the brink of renewed civil war. As one of the wealthier countries in West Africa and one of the largest sources of cocoa and coffee, instability in Côte d’Ivoire would have negative repercussions throughout Africa and the world.

The situation has been deteriorating rapidly since the results were announced in December. Hundreds have died in clashes between President Gbagbo’s and Mr. Ouattara’s forces and between police and unarmed protestors. Thousands more have fled to neighboring countries, some of which, like Liberia and Sierra Leone, have only just recently emerged from their own civil wars and whose stability remains fragile at best. Moreover, the price of cocoa and other commodities have skyrocketed in light of the current unrest and the potential for future civil war.

Currently, President Gbagbo has the advantage on the ground, with thousands of Ivorian troops confining Mr. Ouattara and his rival government in a small section of Abidijan, the capital. Only a 1000 man contingent of UN peacekeepers prevents Mr. Ouattara and several hundred of his trapped forces from being overwhelmed.

But despite having his opponent surrounded and outgunned, President Gbagbo’s hold on power is growing increasingly tenuous. The international community has universally recognized Mr. Ouattara as the new president and has strongly condemned President Gbagbo’s heavy-handed actions. The Central Bank of the West African Monetary Union has denied President Gbagbo access to Côte d’Ivoire’s state funds, and the World Bank has frozen $800 million in expected financing, both of which threaten to starve President Gbagbo of enough cash to pay the military and other loyal officials. UN forces refused to leave the country after being ordered to do so by President Gbagbo, and the UN continues to supply and reinforce its contingent protecting Mr. Ouattara’s position in Abidjan. Now, the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS), a regional economic group with a military arm, is threatening to send an intervention force to remove President Gbagbo from power. Moreover, the New Forces remain at large and are poised to make a move should President Gbagbo escalate the situation further.

The international community likely hopes that faced with dwindling cash reserves and the possibility of ECOWAS or rebel attack, the Ivorian army will abandon President Gbagbo, which would force him to step down.  But this outcome is not so clear-cut. Past ECOWAS interventions in conflicts in Liberia, Sierra Leone, and elsewhere have not been decisive, often getting bogged down for years and caused significant collateral damage to property and civilians. Moreover, Nigeria, the most powerful member of ECOWAS, is nearing highly-charged elections of its own, and so may be reluctant to commit wholeheartedly to an intervention force.

An ineffectual ECOWAS intervention would produce a long, drawn-out stalemate at best and, if it doesn’t cause a full-fledged civil war, would exacerbate the divisions with Côte d’Ivoire that led to civil war in the first place.

The causes of Côte d’Ivoire’s troubles are rooted in the tensions between the rich, cocoa-growing, urban, Christian, and coastal southern regions and the poorer, Muslim, more rural, and more foreign northern regions. Throughout the late 1900s, Côte d’Ivoire had experienced significant immigration, especially from neighboring West African countries, due to its economic prosperity from cocoa and coffee exports and the political stability imposed by longtime dictator Félix Houphouët-Boigny. The tensions between the “native” Ivorians and the immigrants (especially the Burkinabé from neighboring Burkina Faso) came to a head during the last elections, in 2000, when the very same Mr. Ouattara was barred from running due to suspicions of his nationality. President Gbagbo, following a chaotic disputed election, emerged as president. He did little to alleviate the ethnic tensions, which provoked a mutiny of hundreds of soldiers from the north across the country in 2002, leading to the formation of the New Forces and the beginning of civil war.

Whatever the outcome of the current standoff, such tensions have been stoked again. The situation is further exacerbated by the current economic woes the country is suffering as a result of the standoff, with movement in and out of the country hampered. The greatest fear of ECOWAS countries is for another civil war to break out, as that would mean reduced trade with and more refugees from Côte d’Ivoire. In addition, Liberia and Sierra Leone in particular are worried that renewed civil war in Côte d’Ivoire could prove a haven for militants seeking to destabilize either country, both of which went through their own civil wars that only ended in the last decade.

For West Africa, then, the situation in Côte d’Ivoire is a looming disaster, but also an opportunity to demonstrate resolve and solidarity on the world stage. West Africa will need real leadership to transcend short-term considerations in order to collectively address a threat that will negatively impact all of the countries in the region. If they are able to make good on their word and send a sizeable, well-funded, and well-equipped ECOWAS force, it will be an impressive, even inspiring, culmination of a decade’s worth of progress in the region: to have gone from being awash in civil wars – with many countries even funding and arming rebels in neighboring countries – to being able to collectively police their own region.

For the rest of the world, the situation in Côte d’Ivoire is an issue that must be addressed adequately to show that the international community, when acting collectively, still has the teeth to uphold its interests abroad. But if it wants to ensure success, the international community will have to take an additional sweeping measure: a boycott of Ivorian cocoa and possibly other exports. Taxing exports is how President Gbagbo is getting most of his revenue from at the moment. It would hurt world markets too, but it could prove the decisive blow to President Gbagbo’s finances. Perhaps then the threat of an ECOWAS invasion will be enough to dispel President Gbagbo of his remaining supporters and avert a full-fledged civil war.

Few would have expected the partnership to accomplish so much in just two years. Despite the externally imposed leadership structure, between former political rivals no less, Kibaki and Odinga collaborated to finally bring about long-awaited constitutional reform. On August 4th, 2010, nearly 70% of Kenyans went to the polls and participated in free, fair and peaceful voting on the constitutional referendum that was the product of Kibaki and Odinga’s great compromise. The results of the referendum were announced on time; the camp that had opposed the proposed constitution conceded their loss without protest; and Kenya’s government is now working on enacting the reforms the constitution outlines.

But what Kenya’s constitution-watchers have largely ignored thus far is that this is not the first time they have been promised reform. When elected in 2002, Kibaki was seen as a reformer, promising to end corruption; corruption continued, however, and Kibaki was implicated in the disputed 2007 elections that led to violent protest throughout the country. As such, one new and overlooked aspect of the referendum process that does not depend on Kenyan politicians following through gains additional significance. This critical element is Ushahidi, an innovative locally-based election monitoring program. By offering the promise of ensuring equally fair and peaceful elections in the future, Ushahidi may be as important of a legacy to the Constitutional process as any political reform.

This should not be seen as an undervaluing of the promises made in the referendum. The new constitution aims to balance power within government by creating a more effective judiciary, including a new Supreme Court and a better system for identifying and removing corrupt judges, and expanding the legislative branch’s powers. The reforms endorsed in the referendum also include a broader devolution of power to local institutions. In addition to these institutional changes, the new Constitution also calls for the passage of over 49 worthy new laws aimed at limiting presidential power, corruption, patronage, land-grabbing, and ethnic tribalism.

These goals present a tall order under the best of circumstances, even more so given the fact that Kenya’s people have been demanding constitutional reforms for the past 20 years. Also, this referendum was required as part of the 2008 power-sharing deal, not as an organic product of the political process in Kenya. While not necessarily a fatal flaw, this makes it much less likely that Kenya’s politicians will be motivated to swiftly enact the reforms people are demanding – especially as many of those laws will involve limiting their own power.

If this seems a pessimistic take on Kenya’s prospects, it ignores perhaps the most important takeaway from the recent referendum – that of peaceful and fair voting, which was anything but assured. While the specific reforms implemented in the new Constitution are extremely important, even more critical is the legitimization of elections, of the political leadership, and of the state itself. Without state legitimacy, supposed reforms will have no real power. The referendum’s greatest achievement, therefore, may simply be the precedent it has set for legitimacy in the voting process and the government as a whole.

A key reason the day of the vote was not tainted by violence or accusations of manipulated results was the Ushahidi program, which gave Kenyans the responsibility and effective means for monitoring their elections. The program, set up with assistance from the UN Development Program, gave Kenyans the ability to report any potential referendum-related problems by text message. The texts were received by both the Ministry of State for Provincial Administration and Internal Security and an NGO overseeing the project.

The legitimacy stemming from the program helped overcome the stark divides in voting along ethnic lines. The Luo and Kikuyu regions in western and central Kenya voted almost exclusively “yes,” while the Kalenjin areas, also in western Kenya, voted uniformly “no.” When voting is so sharply ethnic, concerns over the legitimacy of the counting are natural, as was the case in 2007. And while Kenyans are becoming more conscious of the potential problems that accompany such strong ethnic politics, it seems this system will continue to be the norm, at least in the near future. Legitimizing measures like Ushahidi can therefore help negate some of the possible negative fallout from such ethnic politics.

Ushahidi is viable and sustainable as a means of monitoring corruption because it avoids placing the full burden on the international community. Rather than relying on outside assistance that invariably spawns cries of tampering and bias, the Ushahidi program gives the citizens primary responsibility while guaranteeing that if issues are reported, those with the power to act will be listening. Because the people themselves will have the direct ability to report whether the constitutional reforms are not proceeding as planned, any problems will likely be reported before international observers would have been able to identify them, ideally allowing for faster, easier fixes than those achievable by diplomatic means.

Kenya seems to be at a tipping point, where successful implementation of constitutional reforms could lead to real progress and promote stability in a troubled region. While the US should not repeat the mistake of turning away from events in Kenya too soon, as it did after the 2002 elections, the US should also not let international oversight backfire and stunt the developing democracy. Based on the role Ushahidi played in the achievement of a peaceful endorsement of the reformed constitution, a similar system designed for technology already in place and optimized for the way Kenyans use it could finally give citizens a way of making their government live up to the promises of the referendum. It may not be the standard approach, but it’s time the international community looked to unconventional methods to get uncommon results.

The costs of piracy in this region are clear. Somalia lies along some of the world’s most important shipping lanes, and piracy in these lanes raises the cost of international commerce. Eleven percent of the world’s petroleum passes through the region, which is colloquially known as “Pirate Alley.” Ships making that journey today pay nearly twice what they would have paid a year ago for ransom insurance, in addition to the cost of increased onboard security. Furthermore, attacks on oil tankers and other ships carrying hazardous materials raise the possibility of a serious environmental disaster in the region. Finally, the possibility that piracy could fund terrorism represents a significant threat to the U.S.

But how exactly did the current era of Somali piracy begin? In 1991, Somalia’s government collapsed, and the lack of authority allowed pirates to take control of the seas. Today, the country is nominally ruled by the Transitional Federal Government (TFG), but other groups, such as the Islamic militia al-Shabbab, constantly challenge the TFG for control. In such conditions, poverty has driven many to piracy. The World Bank reports that 73 percent of Somalia’s population lives on less than $2 a day. Primary school enrollment stands at 22 percent, among the lowest in the world. In the absence of government, there is an absence of opportunity, and for many in Somalia, the profitable life of piracy holds understandable appeal. In 2008 alone, pirates collected more than $150 million in ransom.

Overfishing off the coast of Somalia has also pushed many Somalis to take part in piracy. The earliest pirates were fishermen who sought to force out commercial ships that plundered Somali waters. Somalia’s Gulf of Aden is one of the most fertile fishing grounds in the world, and without a coast guard, Somalia’s territorial waters are unprotected. Boats from Europe and Asia illegally reap over $300 million worth of fish per year from Somali seas, depriving local fishermen of the livelihood of which they once relied. The foreigners often utilize invasive and illegal methods of fishing, such as nets with tight meshes that catch small and young fish. Without regulation, fish populations have been decimated, creating a classic “tragedy of the commons.” When too many individuals fish the same waters, the ecosystem collapses, and Somalis who could have once made their living fishing turn to piracy as an alternative.
The illegal dumping of toxic waste off Somalia’s coast by European and Asian corporations has only aggravated the problem. The UN Environmental Program notes that dumping hazardous waste in Somalia can cost as little as $2.50 a ton, while disposing of that same waste in Europe can cost $250 a ton. Following the great tsunami of 2004, a significant amount of waste washed up on Somali shores and sickened the local population. By damaging local fisheries, waste dumping makes piracy a more attractive career option. Yet Somalia lacks the resources and institutions needed to prevent this problem, and the international community has done little to help.

Somalia’s dysfunctional government is unable to combat the pirates, and although several nations have dispatched naval patrols to the Gulf of Aden, piracy remains an ever-present threat. The U.S. and the European Union have standing patrols in the region, and China helps escort ships through the treacherous gulf. Yet piracy cannot be eliminated until the Somali government is stable enough to control the problem internally. Unfortunately, calls for good governance are more easily put onto paper than put into practice. In the short term, at least, stable government in Somalia is a fantasy. While lining the Gulf with warships might eliminate piracy, it would be prohibitively expensive. The best option, therefore, is to implement cost-effective measures to control the problem. A moderate expansion of anti-piracy efforts would help limit robbery at sea at reasonable expense.

In order to combat piracy, the U.S. and its partners must combat not only the pirates but also the aggravating factors that encourage them, such as illegal fishing and toxic waste. Anti-piracy forces working to protect the seas and prevent the dumping of hazardous waste will earn some measure of good will from Somalis even as they crack down on pirates. By protecting the region from overfishing, the international community can create economic opportunities for those who might otherwise have turned to piracy. Furthermore, pirates will no longer be able to justify their attacks by claiming that they are simply protecting their fishing waters. Still, piracy is profitable, and managing these environmental issues will not solely eliminate the problem. Most pirates will not lay down their guns and pick up fishing poles as the environmental situation improves. But if U.S. forces and others already in the region begin to protect fisheries, they will deprive pirates of their stated motivation to attack, thus exposing those who continue to board ships as nothing more than common criminals. Pirates need support on land for their operations, and by revealing the pirates’ true motivations, the U.S. can minimize the backing these buccaneers receive from the Somali population.

The creation of a Somali coast guard managed by the United Nations would help quell piracy today and create the infrastructure for Somalia to manage the problem in the long-term. Roger Middleton, of the thinktank Chatham House, proposes the development of such a force, noting, “The cost of running a coast guard could be met, at least in part, from collecting fishing dues and import revenue. The money and the force could be held in trust for Somalia.” Such a force would separate pirates who are out for profit from those who genuinely hope to protect Somalia’s seas. If and when a stable government does take root, it would have a capable navy to police its waters. Unfortunately, recruiting for and managing the group would be no easy task. In the short term, this auxiliary force could not replace the more experienced international force needed to control piracy. In the future, though, such efforts would allow Somalia to take greater responsibility for its own territory.

Piracy in the Gulf of Aden presents a significant threat to global commerce, and there are no simple solutions. Until Somalia has a stable, functional government, pirates will continue to haunt key shipping lanes, threatening American citizens and American interests. But by understanding the circumstances that lead to piracy, the international community can better control these modern-day buccaneers. The lack of central authority in Somalia has paved the way for illegal fishing and the dumping of toxic waste. By controlling these factors, the international community can, over time, undermine Somalia’s pirates.

The Kimberley Process certification scheme tracks diamonds from the mine to the store by issuing certificates indicating the stones are conflict-free. The process relies on self-regulation by the member nations’ governments. Though an admirable ideal, the Kimberley Process has already shown that it is unreliable in practice. The conflict diamond trade declined in Sierra Leone and Angola following the ends of both countries’ civil wars, but the Kimberley Process acknowledges continued smuggling in both countries, which Human Rights Watch calls “rampant.” The Democratic Republic of Congo has been plagued by conflict diamond problems exacerbated by rising instability, despite the D.R.C.’s Kimberley Process membership.
These ongoing problems show that while the Kimberley Process has been a good first step, a stronger independent body composed of both exporters and importing firms is needed to regulate both sides of the diamond trade. If enforcement is reliable enough, the profits from the legal trade should be the only incentive needed to ensure participation.

In 2007, a Kimberley Process team was sent to Zimbabwe to review allegations of smuggling, illegal mining, and human rights abuses by the military supervising the mining. The team publicly reported that Zimbabwe was in compliance with the Kimberley Process’s minimum standards. However, a confidential report from the Kimberley team, as well as accounts from Human Rights Watch and other humanitarian organizations, paint a different picture. Miners interviewed by the team said the military attempted to cover up corruption and committed violent acts against workers, including children. The Kimberley Process team’s confidential report also expressed concern over serious discrepancies in Zimbabwe’s statistical data on diamond production. Because many firms will not buy conflict diamonds directly from their country of origin, the diamonds are often smuggled into, and sold by, secondary countries. Conflict diamonds from other countries such as the Congo could easily be mixed in with Zimbabwean diamonds and certified as legal. Although Zimbabwe’s share of the global diamond market is small, the threat to the legitimacy of the Kimberley Process, and therefore to the entire diamond trade, is real.

Obtaining Kimberley Process certificates is the only way to legally trade in diamonds, so there should be a powerful incentive to comply with the process’s requirements. However, there are many opportunities for both importing and exporting nations to evade the rules. Governments looking for extra revenues through increased diamond sales would not find it difficult to pass off smuggled diamonds as legitimate — the governments control the certification process. While companies importing diamonds are legally obligated to purchase only certified, conflict-free stones, Global Witness reports that many firms are known to work around the process.

When corruption and smuggling are suspected, the Kimberley Process requires a consensus of the 75 represented countries to act, making it less likely that abuses will be addressed. Despite a Kimberley Process report stating Zimbabwe did not seem to be complying with the minimum standards for membership, Zimbabwe was allowed to remain a member, provided it adhered to a work plan created by the country itself. Instead of encouraging compliance, this sends the message that abuses will be tolerated.

Under the current system, it is also very difficult to target firms that import diamonds without certificates. The system calls for action by the country, but one cannot reasonably blame a government for one firm’s corruption. The World Diamond Council, the industry’s representative, also cannot be held at fault. The Kimberley Process has few tools to deal with corruption among diamond importers beyond asking governments to implement stricter industry regulations.

This flaw also means that the Kimberley Process currently has almost no way to stop the flow of conflict diamonds from rebel groups. Limiting the rebels’ opportunities to sell the diamonds deters them from creating conflict diamonds. One way to achieve this would be to require diamond-importing firms, as well as the nations that host them, to join the Kimberley Process and trade legal, certified diamonds.

The Kimberley Process would be more powerful and more reliable if it were not self-regulated but run instead by an independent regulatory group needing only a majority to act. Under this system, nations and importing firms would be far more likely to incur effective penalties, such as suspension from the Kimberley Process, if they failed to prevent the proliferation of conflict diamonds. An independent regulatory agency would also encourage more accurate record-keeping, making it more difficult to introduce smuggled diamonds into the legal market and harder for importers to knowingly purchase tainted diamonds. Because the Kimberley Process is the sole way to legally trade diamonds, a reintroduction process for suspended countries would be essential. This tool would ensure that these countries would not simply sell their diamonds to less exacting importers and enter the illegal diamond trade.

Although difficult, obtaining diamond producers’ participation in an organization capable of penalizing them is essential. If diamond traders concluded that the only profitable path was compliance, the legal diamond industry would free itself from the taint of conflict diamonds. An end to these concerns would increase consumers’ demand and increase profits for both importers and exporters. These benefits would reinforce commitment to keeping conflict diamonds out of the legal trade.

The inevitable question is where the responsibility for this independent regulator will fall. The United States is certainly in a position to exercise leadership by showing its commitment to stricter regulations. Yet the credibility of the Kimberley Process would be jeopardized if one nation, particularly one with such a significant share of the imports, took charge. The US cannot monitor the entire diamond trade; this is not one nation’s responsibility. The World Trade Organization is a logical candidate for this role. Its status as the accepted authority on global trade and experience monitoring trade issues would benefit a Kimberley Process group. Both governments and industry members could still be involved through an already-existing organization.

Although the conflict diamond trade may never be entirely eradicated, we should not dismiss the potential for improvement. As a more powerful regulatory agency, the Kimberley Process could harness its strengths to change the incentive structure for trading in diamonds, creating a lasting decline in conflict diamonds, greater revenues for diamond-exporting nations, and an end to the human rights abuses tied to the “blood diamonds.”

Almost as if on cue, columns of foreign men come marching down from their hilltop encampments, invading every joint in sight in search of a good time. These, however, are not the colonizers of old (in fact, Ethiopia remained a singularly free country throughout the continent’s dark history of colonialism), but rather, a new breed of pioneers. The hardened, but eager, faces of these expatriates signify the rise of a new kid on the African block – the People’s Republic of China.

These men are vastly different from the conquerors who scrambled for Africa’s riches centuries earlier. Instead of the safari suits and velvet top hats that their European predecessors donned, the Chinese frontiermen of the 21st century come decked in loose overalls and somber hardhats. Unlike the infantrymen who arrived bearing rifles and muskets before them, the newcomers are contractors, technicians and engineers equipped with cranes and bulldozers. Nor do they live in exorbitantly fancy villas and seclude themselves in exclusive neighborhoods. When not toiling at their work sites or resting in their Spartan dormitories, most prefer the same (cheap) pleasures that their local counterparts enjoy.

It is men like these who have breathed life into the economies of little towns like Sekoru and surrounding areas, not only in their patronage of local hangouts, but in the big things they are accomplishing all around them. In this remote corner of the Great Rift Valley, several dozen Chinese engineers and construction workers are busy constructing East Africa’s biggest hydroelectric dam, Gilgel Gibe IV. Upon completion, it is expected to supply the urban centers and rural peripheries of southern Ethiopia and even neighboring Kenya, Djibouti and Sudan. This dam will not only bring electric power to hundreds of villages for the first time, but it will also be an indispensable catalyst for rapid industrial growth in the region.

This mammoth project, jointly financed by the Ethiopian and Chinese governments and the World Bank, is merely one of many similar undertakings that have sprung up all across Africa in the past decade. In its unfettered ambition to join the highest ranks of world powers, China has set its sights on Africa, aiming to establish deep, friendly relations with the continent. In countries like Angola, Nigeria, Ethiopia and Sudan, the Chinese government has been hard at work providing much-needed developmental assistance, not only embarking on comprehensive projects to build schools, hospitals, roads, bridges and dams, but also training the robust human resources needed to maintain them. Nor is China’s largesse limited to the mobilization of fleets of engineers, architects and construction workers.

The People’s Republic has had to reach deep into its pockets to finance its expensive relationship with Africa. According to the terms of a robust assistance package announced by Chinese President Hu Jintao at a summit of African Heads of State and Government in Beijing in 2006, China pledged to double aid to Africa by the year 2009 and provide $3 billion in preferential loans for development ventures, further establishing an Africa development fund expected to reach $5 billion. At this watershed event, Chinese Premier Wen Jiabao also proposed that China and Africa take steps to strengthen their commercial ties, bringing trade volumes up to $100 billion dollars by the year 2010. Indeed, since 2006 trade has grown even faster than the premier expected, reaching the $100 billion mark in 2008, a whooping 45 percent increase from a year earlier. According to figures released by China’s General Administration of Customs for the 2008 fiscal year, China imported $56 billion worth of goods and services from Africa, while exports to the continent reached a staggering $50.8 billion. This makes China Africa’s second biggest trade partner, behind only the United States and ahead of both Britain and France.

The benefits of closer ties with China for Africa are clear. China’s financial and technical resources allow for the construction of much-needed infrastructure, the gleaning of valuable expertise and the growth of trade and industry, among other things, all at a much lower cost than arrangements with Western countries would entail. Furthermore, the “no-conditionality” nature of Chinese assistance allows aid to be used to meet the priorities identified by African governments, as opposed to the dictates of Western governments and monetary institutions.

Moreover, China has striven to demonstrate its deep commitment not only to the economic well-being of the continent, but also to its peace and security. In the last two decades, the Chinese government has mobilized thousands of its armed forces and civilian observers to conflict zones in Southern Sudan, Liberia and the Democratic Republic of Congo. More recently, China has deployed a formidable naval contingent to the East African coast, where piracy has threatened to cripple international shipping.

All these generous overtures, however, have raised western eyebrows, perhaps because China’s newfound zeal may be reminiscent of a bygone era in which Africa was overrun by the imperial and commercial ambitions of different foreign powers. Because of a rapidly booming economy insatiable in its appetite for raw materials and markets for finished goods, Chinese multinationals have demonstrated their capacity and willingness to go to great lengths to secure both. In particular, they have demonstrated a strong desire to gain sustainable access to the sources of crude oil and natural gas in places like Angola, Nigeria and Equatorial Guinea, where the culture of good governance and strength of civil institutions are still lacking in maturity. Consequently, the unrivalled spending power and political clout of Chinese businesses has occasionally bypassed the needs of local populations and served to exacerbate their already impoverished conditions. Unrestrained drilling and loose safety practices by Chinese energy companies in the oil-rich Niger Delta and elsewhere have led to the pollution of drinking water sources, dislocation of inhabitants and rife corruption.

China’s willingness to overlook gross violations of democratic practices and human rights by its African trade partners has also made it the target of much criticism. China has played an obstructionist role in the UN Security Council in implementing resolutions targeting the Sudanese government for gross violations of human rights committed by government-backed rebels in Darfur, including the dislocation, rape and mass murder of hundreds of thousands of civilians. Moreover, the high prevalence of Chinese small arms and light weapons in several conflicts zones abets the further deterioration of peace and security in Africa. Either through the medium of international arms dealers or corrupt African governments, these arms fall into the possession of rebel groups in places like the DRC, where they are used to inflict serious harm upon civilians.

In spite of all this, however, there is no denying China’s invaluable contribution to the economic development of African states and its increasing assistance in bringing about peace and security. Nonetheless, the government of the PRC needs to re-evaluate the precise nature of its objectives on the continent and the extent to which its own interests are served by maintaining the policy of near complete “non-interference” in the domestic affairs of the nations it deals with. China could play an immensely constructive role by joining the international community of nations in demanding that African governments live up to the principles of transparency, accountability and respect for human life that they supposedly espouse. Pulling the weight of its enormous economic leverage and its permanent status on the UN’s Security Council, China could exert decisive pressure to facilitate the end of some of the most tragic human catastrophes of this decade. Not only would such a strategy pay dividends in creating political stability in the states that are increasingly vital to China’s economic interests, but it would also shine positively on the image of an emerging superpower that aims to be taken more seriously on the global stage. China has the unprecedented opportunity to be the catalyst of much-needed change on a continent that has been starving for it. It is an opportunity that the Chinese government and businesses need to seize for their own interests and for those of their African friends.