Djibouti: A Political History 9781685859527, 9781685852993

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DJIBOUTI

DJIBOUTI A Political History

Samson Abebe Bezabeh

Published in the United States of America in 2023 by Lynne Rienner Publishers, Inc. 1800 30th Street, Suite 314, Boulder, Colorado 80301 www.rienner.com and in the United Kingdom by Lynne Rienner Publishers, Inc. Gray’s Inn House, 127 Clerkenwell Road, London EC1 5DB www.eurospanbookstore.com/rienner © 2023 by Lynne Rienner Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Bezabeh, Samson A., author. Title: Djibouti : a political history / Samson Abebe Bezabeh. Description: Boulder, Colorado : Lynne Rienner Publishers, Inc., 2023. | Includes bibliographical references and index. | Summary: “Uniquely traces the tortuous political history of Djibouti since its independence from France in 1977”— Provided by publisher. Identifiers: LCCN 2023003534 (print) | LCCN 2023003535 (ebook) | ISBN 9781685859527 (hardcover) | ISBN 9781685852993 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Djibouti—History—1977– | Djibouti—Politics and government. Classification: LCC DT411.8 .B49 2023 (print) | LCC DT411.8 (ebook) | DDC 967.7104—dc23/eng/20230131 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023003534 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023003535 British Cataloguing in Publication Data A Cataloguing in Publication record for this book is available from the British Library. Printed and bound in the United States of America The paper used in this publication meets the requirements of the American National Standard for Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials Z39.48-1992. 5  4  3  2  1

To my father, Abebe Bezabeh

Contents

Acknowledgments

ix

1

Djibouti’s Political Dynamics

2

The Historical Context

15

3

Freedom Road: The Presidency of Hassan Gouled Aptidon

41

4 A Breath of Fresh Air? President Ismail Omar Guelleh’s

1

61

  First Term

5

Strengthening Power: President Guelleh’s Second Term

6

A Third Term: Quelling the Opposition

109

7

Dashed Hopes for Change

153

8

What Next for Djibouti?

191

List of Acronyms Bibliography Index About the Book

97

197 201 211 221

vii

Acknowledgments

THIS BOOK HAD A LONG GESTATION. IT STARTED IN 2013, when I was a postdoctoral researcher at the École des Hautes Études en Sciences Sociales in Paris. From the very beginning, the idea of writing a book on the political history of Djibouti had its ups and downs. Many saw its importance, because the topic is under-researched and a full account of the subject is lacking. But others saw the topic as too narrow to deserve a book-length treatment. Caught between the magnitude of writing a book and the smallness of Djibouti, I considered abandoning the project, not once but many times. But the greatness of Djibouti lies, in fact, in its smallness. None of its giant neighbors occupies a strategic place like Djibouti, and none of them is marked by a concentration of global forces like Djibouti, which today is hosting US, Chinese, French, and Japanese military forces, among others, in its territory. In view of this history, I first would like to acknowledge those who encouraged me to pursue this project. Benjamin F. Soares at the University of Florida was instrumental in my visiting the African Studies Centre (ASC) at Leiden University in the summer of 2014. My stay there led to the drafting of initial ideas and to the writing of two draft chapters that subsequently became the basis for this book. I also recognize the assistance of Jan Abbink, who in 2017 facilitated my second trip to Leiden. By providing me with the necessary working space, the ASC helped me in writing several chapters as well as in obtaining resources from its excellent library. The research and writing would not have gone as smoothly as it did without the generous and cordial assistance of the library team. I would particularly like to thank Ella Verkaik and Jos Damen for their unreserved help. I also acknowledge ix

x

Acknowledgements

the companionable and friendly environment created by my colleagues at the ASC, particularly Azeb Amha, Trudi Blomsan-Peters, Maryolein De Leew, Gitty Petit, Maaike Westra, and Maikee Van Widen. Without your presence, writing this book would have been a daunting task. Beyond the ASC, I thank my colleagues at the École des Hautes Études en Sciences Sociales in Paris. Eloi Ficquet was instrumental in bringing me to the school for nine months and in facilitating the archival research that I carried out at the Bibliothèque Nationale de France and the Library of Sciences Po. I thank the staff of the Archives Nationales d’Outre-Mer (ANOM) in Aix-en-Provence, who during my research stay in 2012 helped me to navigate the Djibouti archive, which was not fully cataloged at the time. I also thank Simon Imbert-Vier at the University of Aix Marseille, who read and commented on an early draft of my manuscript. His sharp criticisms helped me to make better arguments and to correct mistakes. I acknowledge the considerable help and support that I obtained from the Department of Social Anthropology at the University of Bergen in Norway. The Department and the Faculty of Social Sciences were important in providing me grants, which I used for traveling to ANOM. Throughout the years, its members, particularly Leif Ole Manger, Vigdis Broch-Due, and Bjorn Enge Bertelsen, have been a reservoir of support. I am also indebted to Mahmood Mamdani and the Makerere Insitute of Social Research, which he directs. His arguments, incisive critiques, and the many intellectual conversations that we had were instrumental in shaping the arguments that I have made in the book. I must also thank the School of Modern Languages and Cultures at the University of Hong Kong. The school gave me a teaching-free semester so that I was able to work on the material and complete the manuscript. This book is dedicated to my father, who passed away while it was being finalized. I cannot thank him enough, as my life has been shaped by his unbounded love and commitment.

1 Djibouti’s Political Dynamics

THE PERIOD OF DECOLONIZATION PROMISED TO THE COLO-

nized a new era of hope in which they would see freedom in an independent state. This “freedom time,” as Gary Wilder writes in his book on negritude and decolonization, became problematic, as freedom from colonial rule raised more problems than solutions.1 Rather than becoming a way out, freedom from colonial rule led to freedom for continued autocracy in the postcolonial state. The anthropologist David Scott puts it aptly in Conscripts of Modernity: the romantic vision of the decolonial period ended in tragedy.2 This failure does not relate only to the specific politics of decolonization, but also to the overall enthusiasm that the world has shown to state forms of political organizations, which Ashis Nandy eloquently captured in the phrase “the romance of the state.”3 Although forming states was regarded as the solution to colonial and postcolonial problems, modern states entered into crises as they proved to be unable to mediate contending identities. Except in a few situations, democratization processes that came to be regarded in the 1990s as solutions for “third world failed states” were also put into disarray, leading scholars to question the appropriateness of conceiving such states as being in democratic transition.4 Like millions of others who have experienced lack of freedom under the yoke of colonialism, the inhabitants of present-day Djibouti felt that the demise of colonialism and the establishment of an independent state would lead to freedom, prosperity, and equality. Although they achieved independence on 27 July 1977 with much pomp, they found that, as in many other parts of the world that experience decolonization, freedom 1

2

Djibouti

from colonial rule led only to freedom for continued oppression.5 Djibouti: A Political History is an account of how the “romance” of the independent Djiboutian state ended in tragedy. That romance—that is, the hope that Djiboutians had of living prosperously, peacefully, freely, and equally in their independent state—failed not once but multiple times. Despite this, Djiboutians remain faithful to the romantic ideal of having a modern state in which political representation and equality are achieved, freedom is realized, and progress and modernity are actualized. In view of the continued aspiration for such a state, it is not far from reality to claim that, despite existing as a postcolonial state for more than four decades, the state of Djibouti has still not been born. Its citizens have gotten their hopes up time and again only to discover that the romance has failed once more and the romantic aspiration has ended in tragedy. The people’s hope for living freely and equally in their own state is converted into a situation wherein these dreams are altered into oppression, inequality, and the absence of peace. Of course, romance does not always lead to tragedy. On the ashes of tragedies, opportunities also arise. The ills that come with the failure of the state romance are intertwined with opportunities. Perhaps the greatest tragedy of the modern state is its contradictory nature, which makes it a breeding ground for both tragedies and opportunities. This state of affairs enmeshes its subjects between the two extremes, as they become unable to permanently disentangle the unfolding tragedies from opportunities and vice versa. Beyond recounting the tragedy of the romance of the state in postcolonial Djibouti, this book also tells the stories of opportunities that function as tragedy’s conjoined twin. In doing so, it shows how the failure of the romance of the state has led to opportunities for the ruling elites, and how these opportunities have in turn created unending cycles of tragedies. I seek to provide a comprehensive and accessible account of the political history that Djiboutians have experienced since the country’s independence from France in 1977. Few accounts of Djibouti’s history have been published.6 The first comprehensive English-language book on the political history of Djibouti was published in 1968 by Virginia Thompson and Richard Adloff, before the country obtained its independence.7 Another comprehensive book in English is the work of Robert Tholomier, originally published in French in 1977 as A Djibouti avec les Afar et les Issas and then in English in 1981 as Djibouti: Pawn of the Horn of Africa.8 There are also article-length publications that focus on specific and topical issues—such as the civil war that erupted in Djibouti in 1991, interethnic conflicts, migration, border disputes,

Djibouti’s Political Dynamics

3

and Djibouti’s geopolitical significance—as well as policy briefs and reference works.9 Although scholarship on Djibouti in French is relatively large compared to that in English, those also tend to focus on colonial history or on particular aspects of Djiboutian politics.10 Djibouti: A Political History seeks to fill a gap by relating the political tragedies and opportunities that have arisen in postcolonial Djibouti.

The Drivers of Domestic Politics In examining the political history of Djibouti, I argue that three general factors were important in giving shape to the political conditions that Djiboutians are now experiencing: Djibouti’s geographical position, its politics of exclusion and gradations of citizenship, and its colonial past. Geographical Factors Djibouti’s unique geopolitical position has attracted the attention of external powers and global forces and has also functioned as a resource curse (see Figure 1.1).11 Located at the gate of the Red Sea, the country’s southern territory is adjacent to the Gulf of Aden, while its northern section adjoins the Bab el-Mandeb, the 30-kilometer strait that connects the Gulf of Aden and the Red Sea (see Figure 1.2).12 This strait also serves as a bridge between the Indian Ocean and the Mediterranean Sea. In the contemporary world, Bab el-Mandeb functions as an oil route through which millions of barrels of oil pass annually—4.8 million barrels per day in 2017, according to the United States Energy Information Administration.13 Djibouti’s location on this oil route makes it a strategic place for controlling the transshipment of oil and other trade goods. For Western nations, it is also a key position for monitoring the movement of arms out of unfriendly countries such as Iran and North Korea. In the post9/11 period, Djibouti also served as a choke point important to Western countries for deterring militant Islamic groups. Ever since its independence, the strategic value of its geographical position has meant that Djibouti has functioned as a de facto garrison town for world powers to safeguard their own interests, especially the flow of capital. Immediately after independence, France, its former colonizer, remained established there, while conservative Arab nations such as Saudi Arabia made sure that Djibouti was stable and did not join the Soviet bloc by providing it with cash and membership in the Arab League.14 Since the end of the Cold War, and particularly since the events of 9/11, Djibouti’s role as a garrison state has increased. The United States established its first, and at present its only, military base in Africa within its

4

Djibouti

Figure 1.1

Location of Djibouti Map

Djibouti

Source: Author.

borders.15 US allies who were engaged in the hunt for Osama bin Laden and in the war in Afghanistan, such as Germany and Spain, also stationed military personnel in Djibouti. More recently, Japan and China have constructed military bases there. In short, Djibouti hosts the only US military base in Africa, the only external Chinese and Japanese military bases in the world, and the only French base in the Red Sea and Gulf of Aden region. For the French, the base in Djibouti is also their most important base in the world. Throughout Djibouti’s postindependence period, the foreign military powers with a presence in the country have had a strong interest in maintaining the country’s stability as well as the status quo of the elite

Djibouti’s Political Dynamics

Figure 1.2

5

Map of Djibouti

Source: CIA, The World Factbook.

who have come to power. As a result, Djibouti has been ruled by a single extended family, and power has been transferred only once—from the first president, Hassan Gouled Aptidon, to his nephew, Ismail Omar Guelleh. The external presence has provided opportunities for the elite as a result of the rents and the political legitimacy that they derive from it. The Djiboutian masses, however, are experiencing a lack of freedom, despite the fact that they now live in a postindependent state that promised them a rosy future. The presence of global powers is not the only external factor that plays a role in Djibouti; another is the regional dynamics. These have

6

Djibouti

provided the Djibouti elite with an additional opportunity to consolidate their grip on power.

Politics of Exclusion In addition to the external factors, internal dynamics have shaped the way politics has been organized in independent Djibouti. Postcolonial Djibouti has been marked by a politics of exclusion and gradations of citizenship. Some of Djibouti’s ethnic groups—Afar, Somalis, and Arabs—are considered the “major” ethnic groups in the classical colonialist and nationalist representation. Others, such as people from Ethiopia and the subcontinent of India, are considered “minor” or “other” ethnic groups and are regarded as exterior to Djibouti despite their long presence in the country. The political power in the country is divided among the major ethnic groups. Within this grouping, the Somalis, particularly the Issa Somali from the Mamassan clan, hold top political positions, while other groups hold secondary positions.16 The ethnic tags that are attached to the presidency and the position of prime minister are telling in this regard. While the presidency is held by an Issa from the Mamassan clan, the position of prime minister is always occupied by an Afar, the other major ethnic group in Djibouti. The same happens in the legislative assembly, where there are quotas for Afar, Issa, and Arabs. This situation has generated a sense of grievance, because despite the affirmation of equal citizenship, people do not feel equal. It has also led to a civil war and to sporadic interethnic conflicts between the Afar and the Issa. It would be a mistake, however, to think that ethnicity is the only internal factor that shaped the tragedy of the romance of the state in Djibouti. The limited studies on Djibouti focus largely on the ethnic factor to explain postindependence political tragedies.17 In postcolonial Djibouti, marginalization did not take a purely interethnic form, but also took a political form: the president sidelined any politicians, irrespective of their ethnic background, who seemed to be seeking more political power or who started to contradict him. A number of people who aspired to the presidency or other higher political offices, such as the chairmanship of the ruling party, were thrown out of their positions of power. These efforts have led to a constant process of reshuffling and recycling in which the political elites swing between government offices and opposition political parties. It has created a situation in which the president and those associated with him try to settle political differences and quell opposition through the distribution of benefits, including government positions. As a result, Djibouti politics has become a politics of “older newer elites,” in which the opposition is

Djibouti’s Political Dynamics

7

animated by old guards. Thus, the romance of the state, which affirms that freedom, equality, and prosperity will be achieved in the modern nation-state framework, has become an unattainable object of desire even though people are still motivated by the ideal.

Colonial Past The tragedy of postcolonial Djibouti is influenced not only by factors from the present, such as the flow of capital and the need to securitize it, but also by factors that one might think had passed with time. It is this “past,” more specifically the “colonial past,” that is the third factor in shaping politics in Djibouti. In coming to Africa or any other part of the colonized world, the European powers not only sent white men armed with guns but, to quote David Scott, they also “introduced a new game of politics that the colonized would (eventually) be obliged to play if they were able to be counted as political.”18 Beyond the chains and other forms of brute force that were used to create a docile colonial subject—who had to obey or be flogged in public, buried alive and left to die, or blown up by gunpowder inserted into their rectum19—colonialism created a sophisticated playing field, a situation in which certain forms of conduct were enabled by being regarded as political while others were rendered unavailable or redundant because they did not fit the new definition of what political conduct should be.20 In short, colonialism was a redefinition of the condition of the subject by altering his desires through the introduction of political modernity. In Africa and elsewhere, the political modernity that came to be introduced through colonialism was the result of the insertion of the colonized into a project of political modernity whose roots can be traced to Enlightenment Europe.21 The newly introduced political modernity brought about the formation of the modern state with its institutions and ideologies. It entailed the creation of bureaucracy, rule of law, and expert-based scientific rationalism, but above all it entailed a certain form of liberal mentality that promised citizens a happy future that would be delivered through a representational system of politics in which citizens would elect their representatives. Within the context of Djibouti, the new political game that was introduced by the colonialists rested primarily on the refashioning of ethnic identification. The French, as part of their mechanisms of rule, organized the society along essentialized and reified ethnic categories. In the representational form of politics that was introduced after World War II and following the agitation against the French empire, ethnic categories became the basis for political participation. In Djibouti, choosing

8

Djibouti

a representative who stood not only for the individual but for ethnic groups, which were now understood as a reified category, became the new desired political conduct, quintessential for this new game. At the time of decolonization, the colonial blueprint that entangled politics with ethnicity remained intact; the Djiboutian elite and France, who conducted the negotiations that led to independence, opted to continue the ethnic politics matrix, wherein the political structure was organized in terms of ethnicity, and political representation in the state became a matter of quotas. The continuation of this ethnic-politics matrix from the colonial period meant that the independent state that Djiboutians expected to be the solution for the ills of the colonial state remained unrealizable, as the “new” state became entangled in an ethnic quota system based on a notion of minority/majority. The ethnic politics matrix was not the only holdover from the colonial regime. Colonization also imposed Enlightenment universalism and modernity. Focusing on reason and the individual subject, Enlightenment modernity presented a worldview that is animated by ideas of well-being, progress, and equality. It presented a millenarian thinking whereby human beings will achieve freedom and economic progress within the framework of the modern state. This millenarian vision, despite its repeated failure and inherent intangibility, has captured the imagination of the world for the past 200 years, as Chantal Mouffe22 asserts in The Return of the Political. Djiboutians did not become an exception to this situation. The promise of living in freedom, equality, and prosperity within the modern state framework gave hope to the Djiboutians amid repeated setbacks to actualization of freedom, equality, and justice within their state.23 Since independence, Djiboutians have been engaged in protests and have appealed to the international community by invoking human-rights protocols. They have also waged an armed insurrection in an attempt to deliver the state from its postcolonial tragedies. These activities were particularly intensified during election periods and other key historical moments that touched Africa and the wider world, such as the second liberation movement of the late 1980s and early 1990s and the Arab Spring that started in 2011. Their actions have led to limited results that mostly benefited the elite. Ignoring the desires of the masses, the elite engaged in negotiations that were meant to give them personal and short-term benefits, such as ministerial positions within the government. In postcolonial Djibouti, attempts at negotiation and reform serve the purpose of temporarily calming the “opposition” (whose leadership is composed of recycled elites) rather than advancing the realization of the romance of the state.

Djibouti’s Political Dynamics

9

As a result, instead of living in the state that they came to desire, Djiboutians continue to live in their real state, where repression is abundant, citizens exist in a hierarchical system where some are regarded as being “more citizens” than others, and the elite benefit from the rents that they obtain from external actors who want to ensure the smooth operation of capital in this strategic location. Still, even in the face of repeated failures, Djiboutians remain hopeful that the romance of the state will be realized in the near future. The multifactor analysis that this book engages in shows how the Djiboutian state and society came to be shaped. Looking through the historical lens, we can see that, like many African states, Djibouti has been shaped and influenced by its colonial legacy. We also see that Djibouti is a rentier state. The presence of foreign military bases has become the foundation of a patron-client relationship, allowing the elite to entrench themselves even further as a result of the income and the legitimacy that they gain from the involvement of foreign powers. Given Djibouti’s geopolitical situation and the dynamics that this location has generated, it is clear that the country sits at the very core of the world capitalist system because of its role in overseeing the smooth flow of capital through the Red Sea.

The State of Djibouti The multiple perspectives on Djibouti presented in this book are necessary to counter the stereotype that this country has suffered in scholarly and popular characterization. Djibouti is often regarded as a French spot in the Horn of Africa, which places too much emphasis on its colonial heritage. At other times, looking at the behavior of the elite, it simply seems to be a place dominated by patron-client relationships. It is one of the best examples of neopatrimonialism in the world, and more recently it has become a place where global powers compete for economic hegemony. All of these views are true, but any individual characterization of Djibouti is misleading. Besides masking the full character of the Djiboutian state, it also hides and de-emphasizes the aspirations and dreams of the Djiboutian citizens themselves—a subject that is given great emphasis in this book. There is a commonly held stereotype that Djiboutians are citizens of a small state who do not really care about the institutionalization of democracy, freedom, and equality. This stereotype ends up excluding the country from political discussions about the Horn of Africa, because it portrays Djiboutians as an apolitical group of citizens who live in a country dominated by patron-client relationships and

10

Djibouti

rentier income and who have no political dreams that they seek to achieve. This book takes us out of this unfortunate characterization by documenting the various modern political struggles that the people have undertaken at different periods, including the colonial independence struggle to the second independence, the civil war that emerged in the 1990s, and the more recent dynamics of the country. The lesson we can draw from their experience also illuminates not only how Djibouti should be studied but also how the studies of other Horn of Africa countries should be approached. As in the case of Djibouti, there is a tendency of analyzing the politics of the Horn of Africa by looking at a single factor or by giving much more weight to internal dynamics.24 In adopting this multi-factor analysis, I attempt to answer the call that scholars studying political transition in Africa have made. As Eghosa Osaghae25 and Chris Allen26 have pointed out, political transitions are often analyzed as events that occurred at a particular point in time. They have also been understood through the lens of a single factor, such as ethnicity, which thus came to be regarded as a defining characteristic of the African state. This has led to a false historicism and a single-factor bias. By engaging in multi-factor analysis, this book aims to avoid this particular pitfall of the study of political transition in Africa. In identifying external, internal, and historical factors as important for understanding the politics of Djibouti, this book does not adopt a threshold thinking—in which sociohistorical factors are considered mutually exclusive from each other. Instead, it regards the three factors as existing in a continuum and as having a simultaneous effect despite their diverse temporal and spatial origins. Often in the analysis of African politics, the external is assumed to be fully exterior to the internal. An analysis that adopts this kind of discontinuous perspective gets off to a faulty start, as it does not account for the ways in which the external and internal overlap. It tacitly engages in a “vertical conceptualization of the state,” wherein the state is conceived as being on top of society.27 As James Ferguson has pointed out, this vertical perspective on the entanglement of state and society has been a mechanism for legitimizing state authority that masks the way in which the state is embedded in a transnational apparatus of governmentality.28 The net effect of a vertical perspective has been to look at African state dynamics as homegrown national problems.29 As will be made clear in the coming pages, the political situation of the postcolonial state cannot be explained away by adopting a tailoring strategy that cuts off the external factors from the internal and the historical ones. The following sec-

Djibouti’s Political Dynamics

11

tion briefly demonstrates this by outlining the contents of the remaining chapters of this book.

Plan of the Book In this book I argue in favor of a nonreductionist view that seeks to understand the dynamics in postcolonial Djibouti by adopting a multispatial and multitemporal perspective. This viewpoint rejects the reduction of African postcolonial conditions and their tragedies to purely domestic factors and argues for an analysis that takes global dynamics into account. Demonstrating the conjunction of internal, external, and historical factors, the book proceeds as follows. Chapter 2 provides a historical contextualization. After briefly detailing the precolonial history of Djibouti to dispel the commonly held assumption that Djiboutian history started with the arrival of the colonizing power, France, an explanation is given of how the modern Djiboutian subject was born through the various game-changing strategies implemented by the colonial power. This exposé is followed by a section that narrates how Djiboutians who had come to believe in the romance of the state went on to struggle for an independent state of Djibouti in which freedom, prosperity, and equality would finally be realized. Chapter 3 shows how this dream of freedom and equality was thwarted in the postcolonial period. Focusing on the first twenty-two years of independence under Hassan Gouled Aptidon, Djibouti’s first president, the chapter demonstrates how the colonial architecture of power continued to influence the postcolonial politics of Djibouti. I argue that the unwillingness of the elite to dismantle this architecture, which was marked by the entanglement of ethnicity and politics, became a factor in the failure of the romance of the state. The chapter also shows how the romance of the state is affected by the institutionalization of a single-party system and the sidelining of political officials. Chapter 4 examines the end of Aptidon’s rule. His decision to step down because of illness provided another moment of hope for Djiboutians who aspired for an equal, just, and prosperous state. This hope was expressed by Guelleh, the president’s nephew, who had long been considered his designated successor. The election and its aftermath are documented in detail. I analyze the consequences of the continued rule of one party—the Rassemblement Populaire pour le Progrès (RPP), which Aptidon established in 1981—and explain why Djiboutians have repeatedly oscillated between the romance of the state and its tragedy. In addressing this paradox, the chapter highlights the importance of

12

Djibouti

France’s continued role in maintaining Djibouti’s postcolonial tragedy. Because of its crucial geopolitical position, Djibouti ended up providing the United States with its first military base in sub-Saharan Africa, Camp Lemonier, in the early twenty-first century. Djibouti’s involvement in the War on Terror further entrenched the ruling elite. Chapter 5 looks at the second term of Guelleh’s presidency. After his reelection, Guelleh tried to appease members of the opposition party, Front pour la Restauration de l’Unité et de la Démocratie (FRUD), by giving them ministerial positions. This amounted to an attempt to solve Djibouti’s latest political problems by fine-tuning the ethnic quota system whose roots can be traced to the colonial period. The strategy was not entirely successful, as not all members of FRUD agreed to be lured into the government; some opted to continue their armed struggle. A breakthrough for Guelleh came in 2002 when a conclusive agreement was made with those members of FRUD who had opted to continue with the civil war. With this major agreement, Djiboutians finally felt that hope was on the horizon. But these expectations were dashed by the postagreement election. The ruling elite actually strengthened their hold on power because the decentralized voting system gave them a far greater share of the vote than previously. The government also used a border conflict with Eritrea as an excuse to silence its opponents. Chapter 6 documents the events that followed Guelleh’s decision to run for a third term. I describe at length the conflict between Guelleh and Abdourahman Boreh, the businessman and close ally of Guelleh who was head of the Djibouti Port Authority. Guelleh’s bid for the third term coincided with the Arab Spring. The removal of other long-serving Arab leaders, such as Zine El Abidine Ben Ali of Tunisia and Hosni Mubarak of Egypt, reignited the desire of Djiboutians to establish a just state. Hoping to achieve this, they took to the streets. In this chapter, I describe the efforts of the people and the government measures. I also explain why, despite the opposition to a third mandate, the elite at the top managed to maintain power, and I examine the internal and external factors that permitted it. One new dynamic was Djibouti’s involvement in peacekeeping efforts in Somalia. The chapter shows how this seemingly benevolent activity actually contributed to furthering the regime. Furthermore, as a key strategic area in the Red Sea region, Djibouti become one of the hubs for coordinating anti-piracy activity. This new style of involvement perpetuated the cycle of romance–tragedy–opportunity that has become the defining feature of postcolonial Djibouti. Chapter 7 is dedicated to the political situation of Djibouti after the Arab Spring, corresponding to the third mandate of Guelleh. Although

Djibouti’s Political Dynamics

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the violent crackdown that followed the Arab Spring–inspired demonstrations initially frustrated the hopes of many, the beginning of the third mandate led to a considerable rise in hope. One of the key factors in this was the government’s willingness to change the playing field by reforming the electoral law from the majority-takes-all principle to proportional representation. In this chapter, I describe how Djiboutians organized themselves to challenge the government in electoral spaces not only by following a secularist option, which had previously been the main trend, but also, for the first time, by following an Islamist strand. Furthermore, I discuss how the regime’s legitimacy increased as a result of the Yemeni civil war. Despite the strain on Djibouti’s economy and stability brought by an influx of thousands of Yemeni refugees, the ruling elite benefited from the situation, as Djibouti became virtually the only space in the Red Sea region where the global powers could take action to rescue migrants, refugees, and other people who were trapped in the Yemeni civil war. Another development on the international level has been the increasing Chinese involvement in both economic and military affairs, and I describe at length the Chinese presence in postcolonial Djibouti. Chapter 8 concludes the book with a brief summary of Djibouti’s evolving role in the Horn of Africa—which is growing more militarized— asking whether Djiboutians will ever experience the romance of the state.

Notes

1. Wilder, Freedom Time, 1–21. 2. Scott, Conscripts of Modernity. 3. Nandy, The Romance of State. 4. See Carothers, “End of the Transition Paradigm”; Levitsky and Way, “Election Without Democracy.” 5. For a discussion of how freedom from colonial rule led to freedom for continued oppression, see Wilder, Freedom Time. 6. Jones, Kumana, and Tunga, Djibouti History, Culture and Tourism; Stehr, Interesting History of Djibouti; Hamilton, History of Djibouti, Political Governance. 7. Thompson and Adloff, Djibouti and the Horn of Africa. 8. Tholomier, Djibouti: Pawn of the Horn of Africa. 9. See Kadamy, “Djibouti: Between War and Peace”; Schraeder, Djibouti and “Ethnic Politics in Djibouti”; Alwan and Mibrathu, Historical Dictionary of Djibouti; Styan, Djibouti: Changing Influence and “Djibouti: Small State Strategy at a Crossroads”; Brass, “Djibouti’s Unusual Resource Curse”; Bollée, “Djibouti: From French Outpost to US Base”; Marks, “Djibouti: France’s Strategic Toehold in Africa”; Shehim and Searing, “Djibouti and the Quest of Afar Nationalism”; Sun and Zoubir, “Eagle’s Nest in the Horn of Africa”; Mason, “Djibouti and Beyond”; Dini, “Migration Management, Capacity Building”; Frank, “Ripeness and the 2008 Djibouti–Eritrea Border Dispute”; Bezabeh, Subjects of Empires; Le Gouriellec,

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“Djibouti’s Foreign Policy in International Institutions”; Dvoracek and Zahorik, “Small but Strategic.” 10. For major works on the precolonial and colonial history of Djibouti, see Dubois, Djibouti 1888–1967; Imbert-Vier, Tracer des frontières à Djibouti; Coubba, Les Afar and Mahmoud Harbi; Prijac, Lagarde l’Ethiopien and Le blocus de Djibouti; Ali, Histoire et archives de Djibouti; Aubry, Djibouti l’ignoré. On ethnicity and ethnic conflict in Djibouti, see Imbert-Vier, Tracer des frontières à Djibouti and “Afars, Issa . . . and Djiboutians”; Coubba, Djibouti: Une nation en otage and Le mal djiboutien. On contemporary social dynamics, including territoriality, migration, and issues of administration, see Chiré, Djibouti contemporain. On the geopolitics of Djibouti, see Gascon, “Djibouti: Singapour sur Mer Rouge.” 11. See Brass, “Djibouti’s Unusual Resource Curse.” CIA, The World Factbook, Location Map of Djibouti, 2021a, https://www.cia.gov/the-world-factbook/. 12. CIA, The World Factbook, Map of Djibouti, 2021b, https://www.cia.gov /the-world-factbook/. 13. United States Energy Information Administration, World Oil Transit Chokepoints, 25 July 2017, https://www.eia.gov/beta/international/analysis_includes/special _topics/World_Oil_Transit_Chokepoints/wotc.pdf. 14. Following independence, Saudi Arabia was the second country after France to give substantial aid to the new country. For more on the role of Saudi Arabia in Djibouti affairs, see Legum and Lee, Horn of Africa in Continuing Crisis. 15. See Sun and Zoubir, “Eagle’s Nest in the Horn of Africa.” 16. The Somalis are divided into four clans (Dir, Hawiye, Issaq, and Daarod). The Issa are a subclan of the Dir family and are further divided into lineages, one of which is the Mamassan lineage. For a full description and analysis of the clan system among the Somalis, see Lewis, Blood and Bone. 17. See, for example, Coubba, Djibouti: Une nation en otage and Le mal djiboutien; Kadamy, “Djibouti: Between War and Peace”; Shehim and Searing “Djibouti and the Quest of Afar Nationalism.” 18. Scott, Refashioning Futures. 19. For the various forms of torture deployed, including those described in this book, see James, The Black Jacobins. For the cultural link between torture and colonialism, see Taussig, Culture of Terror. 20. Scott, Refashioning Futures. 21. On the interaction between political modernity and Enlightenment, see Friedland and Boden, NowHere; Mitchell, “The Stage of Modernity.” 22. Mouffe, Return of the Political. 23. On the link between Enlightenment, European political modernity, and the creation among the colonized of the desire to exist within a just state, see Sarr, Afrotopia; Scott, Refashioning Futures; Scott, Conscripts of Modernity. 24. See, for example, the work of Alex de Waal, Real Politics of the Horn of Africa, in which the entire politics of the Horn of Africa is explained through the flow of cash, or what he termed “the political market place.” 25. Osaghae, “Study of Political Transition in Africa.” 26. Allen, “Understanding African Politics.” 27. Ferguson, Global Shadows. 28. Ibid. 29. Ferguson, Anti-Politics Machine; Ferguson, Expectations of Modernity.

2 The Historical Context

LONG BEFORE THE EMERGENCE OF CONTEMPORARY WORLD

powers, the area of present-day Djibouti was an area of human settlement. Although paleoanthropological and archaeological studies in Djibouti1 and the general area of Bab el-Mandeb have been scant,2 field excavations in the region have recently yielded interesting findings that place Djibouti history beyond the relatively recent colonization of the country by the French. The earliest traces of human presence in the region are 1.3 to 1.6 million years old, found in the small town of ‘As ‘Ela in southern Djibouti. Evidence includes stone structures, microlithic industry, shards of pottery, and decorated beads and eggshells. Excavations undertaken in Hara Idé, Wartika, Gobaad, Antakari Daka, Ghoubbet, and Asgoumati also indicate the presence of a rich Neolithic and protohistoric culture in the area.

The Ancient World Human activity in Djibouti continued into later periods. In the ancient period, the area was influenced by regional civilizations such as the Aksumite. 3 Although the area of Djibouti did not rise to any prominence in the ancient period, it must have been part of a lively milieu of human interaction. Earlier scholarship regarded the general area of present-day Djibouti as part of the land of Punt, which is identified in a number of ancient sources as a place to which ancient Egyptians sent trading expeditions and from which it obtained certain commodities. Although Djibouti is no longer considered part of Punt, which

15

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Djibouti

current scholarship locates further north, the people of Djibouti must have participated in the ancient navigation and trade conducted in the Red Sea region.4 The Periplus of the Eritrean Sea, a firsthand account of navigation and trade in the first century AD, certainly indicates this. It describes an active import and export trade to and from Arabia through the ports of Avalites and Malao. These have been identified as the modern-day ports of Zayla and Berbera, which lie a few kilometers outside the border of present-day Djibouti.5 Given the region’s proximity to these port spaces, it is reasonable to assume that its population would have been involved in the export of commodities and benefited from the import of materials that came from the Arabian oceans. The area of present-day Djibouti must also have come under the influence of the Axsumite Kingdom, which was of great importance in the region when The Periplus of the Eritrean Sea was written. The unknown author of the book informs us that the chieftains controlling the ports of Avalites and Malao had rebelled against him.6 This inclusion of Djibouti in the Axsumite sphere of influence is entirely probable, since the trade of the kingdom of Axsum at its height encompassed the Red Sea region, and its trading and political network extended to Arabia and as far as India and China. 7 The area of Berbera, for example, was known to the Chinese, who were in contact with the Horn of Africa region not only through the exchange of commodities but also through the travels of their own citizens.8 Referred to for the first time in Chinese sources by the term Bo-ba-li in the ninth century, Wolbert Smidt described the inhabitants of this port in a manner that reflected the cultural practices among the Somali inhabitants at the time.9 The accounts of Arab geographers in the ninth and tenth centuries further attest to the history and the significance of the area of presentday Djibouti. Al-Hamdānī, for example, mentions that Zayla served as a huge market for the resources coming from Ethiopia.10 In Kītab almasalik wa-mamalik, al-Istahri describes the continuous contact between the highland Christian kingdom of Ethiopia and the port of Zayla. He reports that both Zayla and the entire surrounding area were controlled by the highland Christian kingdom in present-day northern Ethiopia.11 This relation of Zayla with the highland Christian kingdom is further attested by al-Masudi, who asserts that some Muslims in the port were paying tribute to the Christian kingdom. 12 Ibn Ḥawqal describes Zayla as an Ethiopian town that played a key role in travel to the Arabian coast.13

The Historical Context

17

The Medieval Period Starting from the thirteenth century, the coastal region of the Horn of Africa came to be dominated by Muslim principalities that interacted with the Christian kingdom of Ethiopia, which by this time was centered south of the once mighty kingdom of Axsum in the area of Shoa. The Arab geographer Ibn Fadl Allah al-ʻOmari informs us that in the region there were seven sultanates: Ifat (Awfat), Dawaru, Arababni, Hadya, Sharḫa, Dara, and Bali.14 Of these seven sultanates, the most influential one, the sultanate of Ifat (Awfat), must have exerted the greatest influence on the region of Djibouti. Although the sultanate was based on the eastern plateau of Shoa, its influence was felt as far as Zayla and encompassed the Gulf of Aden region. The nomadic tribe in the region of Awssa, which is less than 100 kilometers from the present border of Djibouti, was allied with its ruler.15 The sultanate of Ifat also encompassed two chiefdoms, Mora and Adal. Because of the etymological connection between the words Adal and Adali (a term that was used by Somalis to describe the Afar people), scholars believe that the Adal chiefdom was populated by the Afar people, who today are found in Djibouti, Ethiopia, and Eritrea.16 The nomadic pastoralists inhabiting the coastal region of the Horn of Africa, including present-day Djibouti, came to have a much more prominent role after the fall of the Ifat sultanate in the medieval period. The sultanate was weakened by a series of wars with Ethiopia, and finally came to an end in 1415 following the defeat of its ruler, Sad ad-Din, who went into exile in Yemen.17 The sultanate of Ifat was replaced by the sultanate of Adal (which, as we saw above, was previously a chiefdom within the sultanate). It was first based in Dakar, then beginning in 1520 in Harar; both places are far from the region of Shoa, which was close to the highland Christian kingdom of present-day Ethiopia.18 After a lengthy internal power struggle, the Adal sultanate came under the firm domination of Ahmad Ibrahim al-Ghazi (popularly known as Ahmad Gragn). Ahmad was able to consolidate the various small chiefdoms and contending political aspirants into one territory.19 At the height of its power, the sultanate of Adal covered present-day Djibouti, Somalia, a large section of southeastern Ethiopia, and extended into what is now Eritrea as far as Arkiko. 20 Aided by the Ottoman Empire, who were competing with the Portuguese and wanted to create a lasting influence in the region, the sultanate of Adal invaded the highland Christian kingdom in 1529. The Afar and Somali pastoral people who were then living in Djibouti, as well as in the neighboring Horn of Africa region, participated in the invasion. 21 Relying on their support, Ahmad was able to control the highland

18

Djibouti

Christian kingdom for nearly forty years until he was killed by the Portuguese army, who came to aid the Christian kingdom. The importance of the local population and the area they inhabited increased after the death of Ahmad. Shortly thereafter, the Adal sultanate found itself in a precarious position, not only because of the lost war, which had decimated its fighting force, but also because of the threat from Cushitic-speaking migrant groups, the Oromo, who were threatening Harar.22 This precipitated the relocation of the sultanate in 1577 from Harar to the region of Awssa, which had the effect of including the population of the region in the sultanate.23 Despite the temporary refuge that it found among the pastoral people, the Awssa-based Adal sultanate shortly came to an end. This resulted in the subdivision of the territory among both newly formed and previously existing chiefdoms. The Awssa region, previously the seat of the Adal sultanate, became the seat of an Afar sultanate that was established in 1734 by Sultan Khadafo, who eventually became the head of the Madayto sultanate. The area of what is now central Djibouti came to be dominated by the sultanate of Tadjoura, while to the northeast the sultanate of Rahaito was formed in an area which is now divided between Djibouti and Eritrea. Further south in Djibouti the sultanate of Gobad was formed. Meanwhile, the Ottomans continued to exert influence in the region of what is now Djibouti and in the coastal region of the Horn of Africa, despite the dissolution of the sultanate of Adal and the consequent collapse of the Ottoman plan to create a permanent hegemony in the region. In 1554 they declared the region of Suakin, which they had occupied in 1527–1528, a province under Ottoman Egyptian administration, and a year later they also declared a large part of the coastal area part of the Ottoman province.24 Two years later the Ottomans occupied Massawa. Finally, in 1559, the very important port of Zayla was put under their direct control.25 This situation, however, did not last long. The Ottoman forces pulled out of the area, and Zayla became independent. Despite the absence of actual Ottoman representatives, both Zayla and Tadjoura and the areas subject to them were put under nominal control of the Ottoman administrators based in the Arabian Peninsula, particularly that of Mocha, which itself was under the Hijaz Ottoman administration.26 The other areas of the Horn of Africa that were under Ottoman control, such as Massawa, endured a similar fate.27 In the coastal region of the Horn of Africa, this withdrawal of the Ottomans from direct involvement allowed regional personalities to emerge as magnets of authority.28 In the area of Djibouti these person-

The Historical Context

19

alities included Muhammad Ali, who came to control the port of Zayla, as well as Ali Sarmark and Abou Bakr Ibrahim, who one after the other became important in the regional trade that was linked to the ports of Zeyal and Tadjoura and their hinterland.29 These men assured the uninterrupted flow of trade and the payment of tax to the Ottoman administrators based in Yemen. In this regard, not only people from the region but also Arabs from the other side of the Gulf of Aden became key players. Arab families were allowed to control the regional economy while at the same time ensuring the nominal link of the area with Mocha.30

Formation of the Modern States This absence of active control changed beginning in the nineteenth century. The composition of the key geopolitical actors that came to play a decisive role in the region of present-day Djibouti also changed. In this new century, Egypt, which had managed to obtain a certain degree of independence from the Ottomans, became a major actor with the grand ambition of establishing an empire in the Horn of Africa region. Besides Egypt, certain European powers—notably Great Britain, Italy, and France—became the new powers in the Red Sea and Horn of Africa region. The involvement of these powers heralded the formation of the modern states of the region, all of which, except for Ethiopia, started as colonial states. During the first six decades of the century, competition among the new major powers was confined to the arrival of European travelers and adventurers and the signing of treaties with the local chiefs who controlled the region. 31 France signed treaties of friendship with the Shoa ruler in 1843 and with the ruler of Tigre in 1859 and 1860.32 In 1862 France obtained an agreement that allowed it to control Obock, although it did not have any immediate consequence.33 Great Britain, France’s major rival, signed a treaty with the Shoa ruler in 1841. In addition, they signed a trade agreement with the sultan of Tadjoura, bought from him the island of Mocha in 1840, and obtained additional territories outside the port of Zayla.34 Great Britain also obtained concessions on the other side of the Gulf of Aden, leading to the establishment of the Colony of Aden, which became a key coaling port for steamships heading to India.35 However, none of these important powers actively established themselves in the region initially, except for Great Britain. This situation changed following the announcement of the construction of the Suez Canal in 1854 and its opening in 1869. The opening of the canal

20

Djibouti

boosted trade in the Red Sea region and augmented the region’s importance, as it now lay along the shortest route between Europe and the Far East.36 This important development encouraged the European powers to establish control of the territory around the Red Sea basin and the Gulf of Aden, of which Djibouti is a part. 37 In the year the canal opened, the Italians bought land in present-day Assab from local rulers and established their first colony, Assab, in 1882. 38 The Egyptians similarly involved themselves in the acquisition of territory. In 1865 the Ottomans ceded the Horn of Africa territories to Egypt, which was then under Khedive Ismail. Following this, the Egyptians obtained a foothold in Massawa and Suakin; their territory in that region extended up to Kassala in eastern Sudan.39 In 1875 they gained control of the port of Zayla and the Somali coastal area up to Cape Guardafui, as well as the town of Harar, which was an important trading town linked to Zayla.40 But Khedive’s Egypt found itself in trouble. A disastrous war with Ethiopia between 1874 and 1876, combined with the bankruptcy of the country resulting from many ambitious projects, led to the collapse of the government and the direct occupation of Egypt by Great Britain, its creditor, in 1882.41 Beginning in 1884 the Egyptian army in Harar and its vicinity was forced to withdraw under British orders, as the latter found themselves embroiled in a religiously inspired anticolonial war in Sudan (the Mahadiya) and sought help from Ethiopia.42 This Egyptian withdrawal and the power vacuum that followed resulted in intensified competition for control of the region between France and Great Britain; each country, afraid of the other, wanted to augment the territory it already occupied.43 On the northern front, the British encouraged the Italians to take over the area, despite having an accord with the Ethiopians ceding the area controlled by Egypt. This led to the eventual control of Massawa and the area around it by Italy in 1885.44 In the south, where there was no such agreement, France and Great Britain competed. This competition was exacerbated as a result of the French Tonkin War, which occurred in the same year the Egyptians started withdrawing from Harar. Claiming neutrality, the British menaced French ships from stopping at the port of Aden, taking away access to this important coaling station.45 This blockage intensified the struggle for control of the area, as France now badly needed a coaling station.46 In 1883 France sent Léonce Lagarde on a special reconnaissance mission to the area of Obock, and in 1884 it appointed him as the first administrator of its only territory of Obock, which France bought in 1862.47 Between 1884 and 1885 Lagarde signed

The Historical Context

21

a number of agreements with local rulers, further expanding France’s possessions to areas such as Goubbet el-Karba.48 Over the next twenty years, the region of what is now Djibouti saw the consolidation and further encroachment of European powers. France, Great Britain, and Italy signed various agreements with local rulers. France signed a friendship agreement with the chief of the Gadaboursi and Issa.49 Italy signed an agreement with the rulers of Shewa and with the chiefs of tribes north and south of present-day Djibouti. Great Britain, an avowed competitor of both nations, did the same with Somali tribes south of present-day Djibouti. On 8 February 1888, Great Britain and France also signed a treaty that led to the establishment of the first national boundary in the region.50 This treaty recognized the boundary between the French-controlled area and the British-controlled areas. In the closing years of the nineteenth century, treaties and smallscale competitions were not the only means of settling conflicts. A major war broke out between Ethiopia and Italy as the latter attempted to annex the former. The annexation did not take place, because Italy was defeated at the battle of Adwa in 1896.51 By the dawn of the twentieth century the territorial configuration of the region had become more or less clear. As a result of a tripartite agreement between France, Italy, and Great Britain in 1906, Ethiopia was left as a neutral zone, in which the interests of the signing parties were nevertheless recognized.52 The Ethiopian state also took action on its own, expanding out of the highland region of the Horn of Africa, its main territory for centuries, to incorporate present southern and southeastern Ethiopia, including Harar, which was vacated by the Egyptians.53 As a result of this expansion, the modern-day neighbors of Ethiopia became new European colonies. To the east of Ethiopia, French Somaliland (present-day Djibouti) emerged as the only French colony in the Horn of Africa. North of Djibouti, the Italians, who already occupied Assab, were also allowed by the British to occupy Massawa in 1885. They established the colony of Eritrea despite their failed attempt to colonize the hinterland region of Ethiopia. South of Djibouti, another colony of Italy, Italian Somaliland, along with British Somaliland, emerged as a result of the agreements that Italy and Great Britain made with various chiefs of the region. The internal arrangements of the new territories were also reshaped. With the coming of the colonial powers, new states with semi-defined boundaries were born, but new subjects were also created through colonial political modernity. The following section outlines the formation of the Djiboutian subject.

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Djibouti

The Colonial State In forming the colonial state, the colonizers were engaged in establishing external boundaries and obtaining treaties with various rulers through negotiation, consent, or force. But they were also engaged in the formation of new colonial subjects through techniques of governmentality. The formation of colonial subjects was not unique to the case of Djibouti; the process was deployed in the colonized world irrespective of the identity of the colonizer. As Timothy Mitchell’s work on Egypt has shown, the coming of colonial power required the creation of a bureaucracy and an expert knowledge base, as well as a certain form of representation that objectified and rendered visible the colonial subject.54 The purpose of these techniques was to bring the colonial subject into the fold of modern political power. This modern form of power, as Michel Foucault explains, is not only connected to the formation of bureaucracy but also applies to territory and population. It involves the systematic counting and classification of the population and the subdivision of territories in order to exercise control and deal with undesirable elements.55 As demonstrated by the classic work of Bernard Cohen56 on India and more recent works on the relation between colonialism and demography,57 colonial states take censuses and deploy the other tools of demography and geography as part of their techniques of governing and of shaping a new modern colonial subject. Laws also played a very important role in the creation of the colonial subject. The customs of the colonized, which were general guidelines, flexible and occasionally contradictory, were turned into a fixed body of customary law that emulated Western legal codes.58 This process helped not only in solidifying the traditional customs of the colonized, such as the sharia law, but also in forming and encouraging a decentralized, despotic system of rule in which traditional chiefs, who in previous times did not have absolute power, now exercised a despotic form of rule thanks to the efforts of the colonial state.59 In the case of Djibouti, this general process of forming a colonial subject was carried out by the French, who also carved out the modern state of Djibouti through the creation of artificial boundaries. In this regard, one of the first acts of the French colonizers was the subdivision of the territory into units of administration, which primarily functioned as zones of control.60 Although the outlines of the subdivision shifted over time and were not strictly defined until 1927, the territories they occupied in the early years were marked for the first time with posts placed at major city entrances. The territories also had

The Historical Context

23

zones that were labeled as urban, suburban, and rural.61 Djibouti was divided into two major districts corresponding to the two major ethnic groups of the country: Issa and Danakil (Afar). 62 The Issa largely occupied the southern part of the country, and the Afar encompassed the northern part of the country, including the ports of Obock and Tadjoura. Over time, the two units were divided into even smaller units, as well as into racially segregated areas where the colonizers and the natives lived separately. Through these territorial units, the colonial state attempted to control and regularize the movement of people, enforce sanitary protocols, deal with people they regarded as undesirable vagabonds, and maintain a distinction between the natives and the non-native population.63 The distinction between native and non-native was particularly significant, as it was embedded in the bureaucratic structure that was part of the colonizers’ technology of rule. As I show later on, it also remained important in the colonial political modernity that was introduced after World War II. Before the arrival of the colonial power and the state it formed, ethnic identifications did exist. The above-mentioned kingdoms were inhabited by predominantly Afar and Somali ethnic groups, but they also encompassed other groups, such as Yemeni Arabs (particularly Hadrami traders and soldiers), Oromos, and Indian traders. This was particularly true in the major coastal towns such as Tadjoura and Zayla, which exhibited a certain degree of cosmopolitanism.64 However, the presence of cosmopolitanism did not prevent ethnic conflict. Travelers in the region noticed ethnic animosity that sometimes took the form of outright conflict, as well as the various forms of control that were exercised by the authorities in the coastal region.65 Colonialism did not discard preexisting ethnic identifications or notions of boundaries and geography. What it did was formalize them, essentialize them, and hence create a rigidified system. This process had a huge impact, as it eventually became the basis on which people acted. The categories were stripped of any elements of commonality that existed between groups or places; instead, they became a dangerous source of conflict. In the case of Djibouti, as the writing of Simon Imbert-Vier on colonial boundaries and ethnic identification shows, in the period before the advent of the colonial state, ethnic identifications were not essentialized and made exclusive.66 The areas that fell into the two broad territories that colonialists eventually identified and created were not named after any ethnic group, nor were they thought of as being the homeland of a particular ethnic group, since many kinds of

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Djibouti

people lived in them. However, the usual colonial process for administering these regions meant that there was a need to identify groups and supposed leaders who would be working with the colonizers to govern the population. One of the earliest reports that emerged from colonial Djibouti is telling in this regard. Written in 1889, Les colonies françaises: Notice illustrée describes the initial, almost intuitive decision to work with a leader who was believed to have special influence: Naturally the organization of the colony is a recent one. Until 1886 it was administered by an assigned commandant. But starting from this period it was placed under the authority of a governor, who is assisted by a limited number of fonctionnaires or agents. . . . Outside this small number of French fonctionnaires, the governor has made a point of using natives. So far, this method has yielded good results; not only has it assured us of the friendship of the chiefs that we have employed, it has also earned us the sympathy of chiefs and natives of the interior region, who know that their compatriots are filling fairly important positions for the benefit of the French government.67

As the colonial state matured, this use of the natives was further institutionalized. The colonial administration established the Service de Sécurité et des Affaires Indigènes, which became the formal body that acted as intermediary between the governor of the territory and the tribe leaders. The colonial government spent a considerable amount of money in payments to these chiefs.68 The natives were seen as existing within a different cultural logic, so the colonial administration also created a bifurcated judiciary system. The non-natives were treated under what came to be called justice européenne (European justice system), and the natives under the justice indigène (native justice system).69 The formalization of the native social structures also had a considerable ethnic dimension because the French, who as part of their governing strategy operated through exclusive categories, took pains to identify them by means of censuses. One such example occurred in 1939, when the governor of the territory, Hubert Deschamps, instructed lower colonial officials to stop operating at the general group level and engage instead on the individual level, so as to determine the identity of each person for the census.70 Identifying four main groups—the Issa, Adohymerah, Danakil, and Assahyamara—he instructed the census workers to make a complete census for the first two groups, but to carefully assess the situation of the latter before making any attempt at a census, as he feared a possible revolt.71 The exercise had a clear politi-

The Historical Context

25

cal aim, as he stated that the census would be a new way of increasing French domination of the natives. The census that Deschamps ordered did not take place due to the start of World War II. This was not, however, the end of censuses and identification. In 1942 a French colonial official, Edouard Chedville, who was making a genealogical census of the Issa Somali through the study of their lineages, completed his work.72 His study, which according to Imbert-Vier was updated for the next thirty years, functioned as a useful tool of governing and classifying the natives. It was first deployed in 1944 for levying a poll tax among the pastoral nomads. Starting from 1947, its broader role in controlling the natives was made visible, as the colonial administration used it to identify people who could and could not stay in the territory. As witnessed in the many expulsion notices published in the official gazette of the colony, those who were not in the census were denied access to the territory.73 By the end of the 1940s, the interplay among the creation of ethnic identification, bureaucracy, and mapmaking had come full circle, as they fed on one another to identify who was native and who was non-native, and who should have access to the territory and who should not. As Julie MacArthur points out in her analysis of the mapmaking process in Kenya, the colonial state was not exactly writing on a blank slate in terms of people’s existing notions of place and ethnic identification.74 Nevertheless, the colonial state’s use of techniques that transformed the natives’ categories considerably shaped the subjectivity of the colonized, particularly their political subjectivity. In a situation where the playing field is changed through the rearrangement of territory, through the creation and identification of groups that are attached to the colonial bureaucracy, and through forcing the natives to operate through an exclusive judiciary framework, the natives themselves used these categories to organize their resistance to colonial rule. As Mahmood Mamdani asserts in Citizen and Subject, the form of rule became the form of resistance as well.75 Through the definition of territory, the eventual creation of legal procedure, and the census technique that created distinctions between Djiboutian and non-Djiboutian, the modern Djiboutian subject was born. It was this Djiboutian subject that was brought into the political modernity that is formed by the colonizer. Until 1945 the natives were not represented in the political system of the country. It was administered by the governor, who had ultimate power. Beyond the governor, the political structure of the colony was constituted by the conseil d’administration, whose role was just to advise the governor, who was

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characterized as chef supérieur de toute l’administration. 76 Its membership was composed of membres titulaires and membres suppléants, both groups with non-native backgrounds. This changed in 1945, as the conseil d’administration for the first time in the colony’s history began to incorporate notables from the three main ethnic groups, which in the logic of the colonizer were regarded as the major ethnic groups of the colony: Arab, Somali, and Afar.77 This political insertion of the colonized was further strengthened in 1946 when the inhabitants of the French empire were made “citizens” with political rights, rather than just “nationals” of the empire, as a result of the many political agitations that France had faced in its colonies. The 1946 reform abolished the governor’s power and gave the territory the right to make its own political decisions and to represent itself.78 In the post1946 period, Djibouti saw the creation of the Conseil Représentatif, which reflected the newly gained rights of Djiboutians. Unsurprisingly, the way it was constituted reflected the manner in which the colonial state had formed Djiboutian subjects out of the various groups that had fallen within the arbitrary boundaries of the new French colony. Rather than residency or other criteria, the Conseil Représentatif was constructed according to the non-native–native divide and the various essentialized ethnic categories created by the colonial power. After the two broad groups of French and native, the latter category was subdivided into Afar, Somali, and Arabs.79 From this period on, the new representation politics that were introduced in the colonial state—in which elections were a major element—required identifying who was a real Djiboutian Afar, Djiboutian Arab, or Djiboutian Somali and was entitled to vote. For the natives who were identified as Afar, Somali, and Arabs, in order to participate in the new environment of political modernity, their only option was to act as Afar, Somali, and Arabs. Political actors organized themselves along ethnic lines even if some other characteristic was more relevant. They challenged and vilified each other along ethnic lines, and even informed on each other to gain the favor of the colonizer by pointing out either the nativeness of their own group or the foreignness of the other ethnic group. In doing this, they emulated the colonial state strategy, oblivious to the fact that this insistence on distinctions between natives and settlers was one of their tools. Certainly, broader international dynamics came to shape and influence Djibouti colonial politics on the long road to independence, but these forms of organization remained. The colonizers also played on the same theme as they continued to indulge in their divide-and-rule strategy. The next sec-

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tion explains how these dynamics were used during the colonial period and how they gained currency in the decolonial period that led the country to independence.

The Long Road to Freedom: Decolonization and Independence Out of all the ethnic groups that were thought to inhabit the colonial state of Djibouti, the Arabs became the key actors when political modernity was introduced in 1945–1946. The group that came to occupy the political identity of “Arab” consisted mainly of people who came from Yemen. Internally they exhibited considerable variation, as they were composed of Hadramis from the south, Shimalis from the north, and people from the Tihama—the coastal strip of Yemen.80 They were also differentiated along religious lines, as they adhered to different Islamic religious schools. Their internal cohesion was also affected by a social stratification system composed of four levels: Sada, Mashiekh, Gabili, and Naqis.81 The effect of this system was that some Yemenis ranked higher than others. The Sada were at the top of the hierarchy: men and women descended from the Prophet Mohamed. The Mashiekh ranked second: religious scholars, as well as many who claimed descent from the prophet but were not able to prove their genealogy. The Gabili, Yemeni tribesmen, came next. The bottom tier was occupied by the Naqis, who were engaged in socially despised occupations such as tanning and butchering. Although this group of people exhibited a high degree of internal subdivision, within the “define and rule” strategy of the colonial state they were collectively referred to as “Arabs,” and in fact had been constructed as such long before the coming of political modernity.82 They were the favored subjects of the colonizers, as they were seen as more industrious than the Afar or Somali, whom the French regarded as lazy. The Arabs had a privileged position in the labor market, as they were granted the exclusive right to man and supply the main French shipping line, the Messageries Maritime.83 They also held important positions in the bureaucracy as interpreters and clerks and occupied a higher position in the religious sphere, as they were regarded as the natural leaders of Muslims.84 This preferential position of the Arabs brought them into conflicts with the “natives,” who organized themselves along ethnic lines to agitate and break the Arab monopoly sanctioned by the colonial state. This economic grievance in particular led to confrontation and conflict between Arabs and Somalis in the 1930s.85

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When colonial political modernity was introduced in 1945–1946, the essentialized ethnic categories did not lose currency, nor did the economic grievances that pitted the Arabs against the others subside; instead, they were transposed from the economic field to the new political field. This new field became the platform on which the natives, who continued to operate through the categories defined by the colonialists, vied for dominance. In the early years, the Arabs easily dominated the political field, enjoying a relative advantage as a result of the colonial preference. In the election conducted in 1946, in which 228 Somalis, 250 Arabs, and 146 Afar voted, two Arabs were elected to the territory’s representative council: Said Ali Coubèche and Ahmed bin Ahmed.86 Shortly afterward, the election to choose the colony’s representative in the French national assembly selected Jean Martine, a Frenchman who had considerable support from the Arab community as well as non-native Somalis. The candidate he defeated was an Issa Somali.87 In a similar vein, the election for the representative of the colony in the Conseil de la République was won by a member of the Gadaboursi clan, which in the colonial politics of making proper subjects was considered a migrant group whose proper homeland was in British Somaliland.88 Like Martine, his candidacy was backed by the Arabs. In 1947 Said Ali Coubèche become the first Arab to be elected to the Assemblée de l’Union Française.89 Within the colony, the election of Coubèche represented the culmination of Arab dominance on the new playing field. The Arab and nonIssa domination instigated a confrontation between the governor of the colony, Paul Sirex, and representatives of the Issa Somali, who accused him of selling their land to foreigners. More significantly, the representatives of the Issa demanded an end to the new game in town (namely, representative politics) where (1) the individual is conceived of as being naturally endowed with political rights, and (2) those who are numerically superior (the majority) are entitled to rule—a political abstraction that links numbers to political representation and operates through the creation of a binary that labels one group “majority” and the other “minority.” Their demand, stated in the strictest terms, insisted that they did not wish to engage in the new game of political modernity even if the representative of the colony were an Issa. Instead, they asked that the governor be allowed to continue their customary system, whereby their leader would be selected by the elders of the twelve lineages of the Issa.90 This unorganized and impulsive demand for complete withdrawal from the new playing field came too late. It was, of course, not granted, as the colonial state now wanted to govern through subjects who would “responsibly” engage in electoral politics.

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In the face of this stark reality, the initial reaction of the Issa led to a more volatile political situation, deeply marked by ethnic resentment and violence. The active involvement of the Arabs and the Gadaboursi in Djibouti politics eventually became fatal for the two communities, and specifically for the politicians who represented them. The tension reached a new height in 1948 when a Gadaboursi candidate, Djama Ali, who was backed by the Arabs, was elected to the Conseil de la République. Djama Ali was attacked in the street, leading to intense interethnic conflict between the Issa and the Gadaboursi.91 Subsequently, on 19 October 1949, Coubèche’s uncle was shot dead while sitting in front of their house. The attack was regarded as a politically motivated act intended to target Said Ali Coubèche.92 To contain the volatile political situation that emerged from the introduction of political modernity after World War II, the French colonial administration formed labor unions. This strategy was used throughout the colonial world and was known as “stabilization.” It was an attempt to control the urban population, who were becoming increasingly numerous, vocal, and uncontrollable.93 The colonial governments regarded the urban labor force as a particularly dangerous element: people who had been removed from their tribal roots and were thus ungovernable through the tribal system, which, as we have seen, was fashioned by the colonial government as part of its technology of rule. These labor unions were seen as a way of managing these detribalized natives, who were regarded as more dangerous than their rural counterparts. The colonizers’ organization of the urban working class into labor unions became yet another platform for political action.94 In the labor union–based politics that arose after World War II, one of the key actors was Mahamoud Harbi, a Somali who was a schoolteacher before he began his political career.95 He became the head of the labor union that was created in Djibouti in 1951. In this capacity, Harbi called for a number of strikes, which became a concern for the colonial government.96 In 1956, responding to increased agitation in their colony, the French colonial government introduced the right of self-government through the introduction of a body of law that came to be known as loi-cadre. 97 In the previous administration, where the Conseil Représentatif was in effect, members of the conseil had the right to deliberate on issues and present their opinion to the governor of the colony. Their opinion was not binding, as the decision was left to the governor of the colony and the Ministre des Colonies. In the new system the representatives of the colony were given the full right to

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decide on issues pertaining to the colony. The representatives were brought together in what came to be known as the Assemblée Territoriale de la Côte Française des Somalis. This newly created body, which replaced the Conseil Représentatif, had thirty representatives, six of whom were selected to be part of another structure that was called the Conseil de Gouvernement. This body was headed by the governor of the colony, who assumed the title of president. He was seconded by a vice president who would administer the colony on his behalf when he was absent. The vice president was to be selected from the six members who made up the Conseil de Gouvernement. In this newly created system that gave greater autonomy to the colony in the hope of calming the nationalist anticolonial movement, the labor-union agitations finally brought the labor leader, Harbi, to power. In an election in June 1957, Harbi ran against Hassan Gouled Aptidon, whose faction was defeated. The following month, Harbi was elected to the position of vice president in the Conseil de Gouvernement.98 The political scene that came to be dominated by Harbi was not marked solely by internal factors, such as the capacity to stir up agitation among the working population of Djibouti. Throughout the post– World War II period, it came to be dominated by the ideologies of panArabism and pan-Islamism. The rise of Gamal Abdel Nasser in Egypt and his rhetoric of creating unity among Arabs and Muslims became particularly important in giving shape to the politics of the colony.99 Harbi came to represent the pan-Arab and pan-Islamic ideology, which the French began to recognize as a major threat to the security of their colony. They suspected Harbi of wanting to establish a political party similar to the Neo Destour Party, the Tunisian-based political party that became important in organizing anticolonial resistance.100 In the many labor strikes that Harbi helped to organize either directly or indirectly, he was suspected of being backed by agents in the Middle East. Harbi was not the only suspect, however. The French also changed their views toward the Djibouti Arabs and their main leaders, such as Coubèche.101 They suspected the Arab notables of secretly supporting Nasserite ideology, having noted that the Arabs had become fervent supporters of it. This suspicion on the part of the French led them to pursue an active policy of suppressing and disfavoring those elements that they considered dangerously linked to pan-Arab and panIslamist ideology. In the face of considerable pressure and repeated assassination attempts, Harbi was pushed out of the colony and eventually died in a suspicious airplane crash in 1961.102 The Arabs fell out of grace as the

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French, fearing the pan-Arabism and pan-Islamism that had become especially entrenched among the Arabs and Somalis, began to support the Afar and Issa. This shift in favoritism was the only real consequence that came from the apparent threat of Middle Eastern influence in Djibouti. The country remained stable, not seeing, for example, the formation of an Arab guerrilla movement. The real threat came from neighboring Somalia, which formally became independent in 1960. Immediately after World War II, the area of present-day Somalia, along with the eastern region of Ethiopia (inhabited by ethnic Somali), came under British and Italian administration. The Italians, who had lost the war, were mandated by the United Nations (UN) to continue administering their former colony of Italian Somaliland and to oversee the territory’s transition to independence.103 The former British Somaliland, as well as the Ogaden region and Haud, were administered by the British.104 In the 1960s, both British and Italian Somaliland became independent, and shortly afterward, they agreed to a unification that led to the formation of the Republic of Somalia. It was this newly formed entity that became a threat to Djibouti. Encouraged by the British, who wanted to retain an influence in the region, the Somalis embraced a panSomali agenda that sought to include the Ogaden and Haud regions in the territory of the newly formed republic of Somalia, which after a brief period of British administration had been incorporated into Ethiopia.105 However, Somalia had its eye not only on those two territories but also on Djibouti and the northeastern part of Kenya, which is inhabited by ethnic Somali. The Somali hosted anti-French and proSomalia political groups and personalities in Djibouti, which advocated for the immediate decolonization of the country. Somalia’s new leaders also used the newly formed African Union and the UN decolonization committee to put pressure on the French to leave the country.106 Radio broadcasts from Mogadishu intensified the anti-France propaganda that characterized the people of the territory as the natural brothers of Somalia. Portraying Ahmad Gragn as a Somali, the new leaders of Somalia also linked their nationalist quest with the sixteenth-century AdalAbyssinia war.107 Although the leaders of Somalia affirmed that their dream of forming Greater Somalia would be pursued in a peaceful manner, the interest that they were displaying gave cause for concern to the region’s states. In relation to Djibouti, Ethiopia became increasingly concerned with the politics of Somalia, as the incorporation of Djibouti into Somalia either by peaceful means, such as a referendum, or by force would endanger Ethiopian access to the vital port of Djibouti and the train line

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that connected Djibouti to the city of Addis Ababa.108 To counter the threat of Somalia, Ethiopia encouraged the formation of a pro-Ethiopia political party inside Djibouti that had its base in Ethiopia. Semiofficial Ethiopian newspapers, as well as Emperor Haile Selassie, also emphasized the natural connection of the territory to Ethiopia. With Djibouti sandwiched between the two large Horn of Africa states, the colony and its internal politics, particularly its independence from France, became a strategic question that could not be easily decided by the international powers. The leaders of the neighboring countries were concerned, but so were the ethnic groups within Djibouti. The Afar, who came to consider the Somalis as their natural enemy, began to fear the possible incorporation of the country into Somalia. So did the Arabs, who suffered animosity from the ethnic Somalis.109 This fear on the part of the local groups, coupled with the strategic considerations of the big regional players (particularly France and Ethiopia), delayed the independence of Djibouti from France. Referendums in 1958 and 1967 supported the continuation of French rule.110 The missed opportunity in the 1967 referendum was particularly significant, as the referendum was called after a violent anti-France demonstration that occurred a year before when General Charles de Gaulle visited the territory on 25 August 1966.111 The territory’s perilous situation was made clear to all when, prior to the 1967 referendum, Ethiopia amassed troops near the Djibouti border with the alleged intention of moving in if the territory opted for independence.112 In time, Ethiopia’s eagerness to intervene directly in Djibouti by sending troops diminished. In 1974 Emperor Haile Selassie’s government was overthrown by a military junta, the Derg. The new rulers affirmed to Djibouti that Ethiopia would respect its national boundary and its existence as long as the economic interests of Ethiopia were recognized, and provided that the Somalis did not attempt to intervene. Although this was a very positive development, Djibouti still had to deal with the Derg as a result of a revolt that began in the sultanate of Awssa, which had been incorporated into Ethiopia. Soon after it seized power, the Derg announced a reform that nationalized rural and urban land.113 For the leader of the sultanate of Awssa, Hanfirah Ali Mirah, whose relationship with Haile Selassie was cordial and who would definitely lose in the Derg socialist policy, the new condition was unacceptable. Rebellion broke out after the Derg declaration, beginning with a clash with the Derg forces and ending with the retreat of the sultan and his followers to Djibouti. Eventually the sultan exiled himself to Saudi Arabia while the conflict persisted in Awssa.114

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The situation in the Awssa region put Djibouti, and particularly its Afar leader Ali Aref, who acted as prime minister between 1960 and 1967 and as president since the 1967 referendum, in an impossible position. It was difficult to host the Awssa sultan because it could antagonize Ethiopia, but it was also difficult to say no because of the tribal alliance that reached across the colonial boundary. This difficult situation was worsened by the spread of rumors that the leaders of Somalia had supplied arms to a section of the Afar ethnic group, the Assahyamara Afar, a rumor that reminded people of the sixteenth-century war in which the people of this region had confronted Christian Ethiopia in a united manner.115 The alleged suppliers of arms to the Afar, however, were not only the Somalis but also the Ethiopians, whose radio broadcasts encouraged the Djibouti Afar to resist the Somalis residing in Djibouti. In the politics of the time, the fear that gripped Djibouti emanated not only from the interstate politics in the region but also from the increasingly internationalized Cold War politics that involved the United States, the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (USSR), Cuba, and China. The United States had operated a base in Asmara since 1944 and had been on friendly terms with the Haile Selassie government.116 However, by the late 1950s the Soviets were increasingly involving themselves in the Horn of Africa. In 1959, Ethiopia, a traditional ally of the United States, received US$202 million in Soviet loans while neighboring Sudan obtained a total of US$65 million in military aid from the Soviets. The biggest involvement of the Soviets in the region, however, was their relationship with the independent state of Somalia. Three years after its establishment, in 1963, the USSR provided US$30 million in military aid and eventually established a cordial relationship with Somalia, thereby gaining vital access to the port of Berbera, which increased the military and communication capabilities of the USSR in the region.117 This involvement of the Russians in the Horn of Africa was rivaled by another communist power, China, which regarded the Soviets as social imperialists practicing state monopoly capitalism.118 Even as it advocated a theory of three worlds that placed China within the category of a developing country, as well as five principles of coexistence that, among other things, advocated a noninterference policy in the affairs of others, China rivaled Russia by supplying arms and aid. In 1968 and later on, the Chinese supplied arms to the separatists in northern Ethiopia (Eritrea). In 1971, they shifted their alliance to the Ethiopian government and gave US$80 million to the Haile Selassie regime. The Chinese also

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gave economic aid of US$23 million, a loan of US$110 million, and US$50 million in military aid to Somalia on various occasions.119 Sudan, Yemen, and South Yemen also received both economic and military aid from China. Along with China, Cuba—a lesser power in the communist alliance—also made its presence felt in the Horn of Africa.120 Allied with the Soviets and driven by the ideology of anti-imperialism, Cuba involved its military and also provided aid in the region. Cold War alliances were volatile, at least in the Horn of Africa, and by 1977 the major parties involved in the region had switched sides. In November of that year, the USSR formally broke its relations with Somalia and increased its aid to Ethiopia, led by the Derg military junta.121 Mengistu Haile Mariam, who had emerged at the top of the Derg after a series of internal conflicts and assassinations, flew to Moscow and signed a treaty of friendship, which led to the receipt of substantial amounts of military aid and equipment. The Cubans, who were allied with the Soviets, were happy to supply. The United States, traditionally an ally of Ethiopia under the Haile Selassie government, backed out of a deal for US$100 million in military supplies to the Derg after the latter had already made a partial payment.122 Djibouti’s independence from France occurred in the midst of this tense situation. In 1976 the increasing pressure on France from the local political parties and the international community, such as the African Union and the UN decolonization committee, led the pro-French Ali Aref to step down. Ever since he came to power in 1967, he had strongly advocated the continued colonial rule of France in order to avoid being incorporated by Somalia or Ethiopia. The fall of the Aref government led to the establishment of a transitional government headed by Abdallah Mohamed Kamil, an Afar technocrat with a degree in political science from Sciences Po, the political studies center in Paris. Mandated to bring about an independent Djibouti within a year’s time, the transitional government was expected to lead to the emancipation of the various ethnic groups of Djibouti. In a speech that he made in front of the Chambre des Députés, Kamil expressed the meaning of decolonization and the future it would bring about: It is a great delight, but at the same time a difficult task, for the government you have just elected to be entrusted with the task of directing the future of the country in this crucial moment of our history. In effect, we are entering a decisive phase of our existence. We are preparing our accession to international sovereignty. This means that we have decided to create a sovereign state that will change the fate of all the inhabitants of this country. This state will have supra-ethnic power. Its authority will transcend the tribal authorities. It will replace

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ethnic and tribal entities in all domains. This means that we are mature enough to form a nation without ethnic groups. A modern nation with modern institutions, modern law, modern justice system, etc. If this is the will of all, it cannot be otherwise. If we don’t want to disappear, each woman, each man, male and female citizens of this emerging nation, should know that they have a duty toward their nation, they should know that they have a duty vis-à-vis the state to which they are willing to surrender their future. The state will have a duty toward each citizen and each citizen will have duties toward the state. The duties of the state will be to assure the equality of all citizens, the maintenance of internal peace, and safeguarding the external security of the nation. It will also ensure that everyone has an equal chance by ensuring equality between men and women; equality before the law; equality in accessing public services; equality in accessing social protection; and equitable distribution of the communal wealth of the nation.123

As Kamil’s speech notes, the future state that was to be born in a year’s time—and that would show to the world the maturation of Djibouti—was expected to eliminate tribally entrenched inequalities. Simultaneously, the new state was expected to be characterized by justice, equality, and freedom. During the period of the transitional government, the various political parties needed to negotiate and agree on the terms of independence and how political power was to be shared between the “main” ethnic groups of the country: Afar, Somali, and Arabs. To accomplish this, France organized two conferences in Paris headed by Olivier Stirn, the secrétaire d’état in the Départements d’Outre-Mer–Territoires d’OutreMer (DOM-TOM). At this point in time, Djibouti had five main political parties: the Ligue Populaire Africaine pour l’Indépendance (LPAI), which was the main pro-independence party, headed by Hassan Gouled Aptidon and Ahmed Dini; the Union Nationale pour l’Indépendance (UNI), composed of partisans of Ali Aref; the Mouvement Populaire pour la Libération (MPL), a Marxist-Leninist party formed by young Afar politicians; the Mouvement pour la Libération de Djibouti (MLD), a clandestine group based in Ethiopia; and the Front de Libération de la Côte Française des Somalis (FLCS), a pro-Somalia grouping based in Mogadishu and headed by Aden Robleh Awaleh. Despite being boycotted by some of the political parties, the negotiations took place in Paris as scheduled, and the representatives of the political parties agreed to divide the national assembly of Djibouti among the country’s main ethnic groups.124 In this agreement, the Afar were to have thirty seats in the future national assembly, and the Somalis thirty-three seats. Two seats were made available to the Arab community.125 The political parties also agreed to share official posts

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in the future government. It was on the basis of this agreement that a referendum deciding the fate of the country took place on 10 June 1977. On 27 June, Djibouti officially became independent. 126 The moment of independence was a euphoric moment, an event that signified a clean break from the ills of colonialism. The future was bright, leading to freedom, equality, and brotherhood within the framework of an independent state. Looking at Djibouti independence from a comparative perspective, we can see that it was won through negotiation rather than with a decisive victory over the colonizer through armed struggle. Independence was granted by the colonial power, which was the chief host of the decolonizing process. In the 1960s this form of decolonization was sharply criticized by the theoretician and eminent anticolonial activist Frantz Fanon.127 Fanon argued that negotiated decolonization would merely transfer power from the colonialists to a select nationalist elite, invariably allowing the pathologies of the colonial system to continue. The ruling party and the elites would be subservient to the former colonizer in a system of neocolonialism, and the colonial structures of power, such as tribalism, would linger on to create an unending series of crises in the new nation-state. Fanon believed that any system entrenched by colonial power needed to be radically uprooted by violence, which in his view has a transformative capacity. As we see in subsequent chapters, Fanon’s warning came true in Djibouti. The romance of the state quickly turned into tragedies for the masses and opportunities for the elite.

Notes

1. The earliest archaeological investigation in Djibouti occurred in the 1930s, when a number of French amateur archaeologists attempted to date and excavate some of the interesting archaeological sites of the region. This early activity was replaced by more serious work starting in the 1980s. For an account of the history of archaeology in Djibouti, see Gutherz et al., Le site néolithique de Wakrita (République de Djibouti). 2. Chauhan, “Early Homo Occupation.” 3. Here I mean the general area of present-day Djibouti, that is, the area enclosed by the official borders of the country but also those areas that fall immediately outside this boundary. One of the challenges to a proper analysis of historical and political dynamics is the legacy of colonial boundaries. Places that interacted in the precolonial period became divided and enclosed by the colonial boundaries, which to a large extent are now the national borders of the Horn of Africa states. One such example is the ports of Zayla and Berbera, which exerted a considerable influence on what is now Djibouti even though they are currently located outside its territory. 4. On Punt, see Bard and Fattovich, Seafaring Expeditions to Punt.

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5. See Schoff, The Periplus of the Erythræn Sea, 24–25; Fauvelle-Aymar et al., “Le port de Zeyla, et son Arrière-Pays au Moyen Age” 27–74. 6. Warmington, Commerce Between the Roman Empire and India, 53. 7. Munroy Hay, “Aksumite Overseas Interests.” 8. Smidt, “A Chinese in the Nubian and Abyssinian Kingdoms.” 9. Ibid. 10. Al-Hamdānī, Ṣifat Jazīrat al-ʻArab. 11. De Goeje, Abu Ishaq Ibrahim Muhammad al-Farsi al-Iṣṭakhrī. 12. De Meynard and de Courteille, Al-Masʻūdī, 34. 13. Kramers and Wiet, Muhammad Ibn Ḥawqal Kitāb. 14. Al-ʻOmarī, Masālik el-abṣār fi mamālik el-amṣār, 1. 15. J. Spencer Trimingham states that “Ifat proper was the plateau region of Eastern Shoa which included the slopes down to the valley of the Hawash (Awash), but its sphere of influence was much wider and extended to the region of Zaila on the Gulf of Aden, whilst the nomadic Afar tribe of the plain of Aussa also paid its rulers some kind of allegiance.” See Trimingham, Islam in Ethiopia, 67. 16. Wagner, “Adal.” 17. Trimingham, Islam in Ethiopia, 74. 18. Ibid., 74, 85. 19. Cuoq, L’Islam en Ethiopie, 220–226; Trimingham, Islam in Ethiopia, 79–84; Tamrat, Church and State in Ethiopia, 299. 20. Tamrat, Church and State in Ethiopia, 298–299. 21. Aregay, “Population Movement as Possible Factor”; Braukamper, “Islamic Principalities in Southeast Ethiopia.” 22. Trimingham, Islam in Ethiopia, 95–97. 23. Ibid. 24. Orhonlu, Habesha Eyaleti. 25. Ibid. 26. Fontrier, Abou-Bakr Ibrahim, 42; Daly, The Cambridge History of Egypt. 27. Miran, Red Sea Citizens, 38–45. 28. See ibid., 33–64. 29. See Daguenet, Aux origines de l’implantation française; Fontrier, Abou-Bakr Ibrahim; Smidt and Gori, “Relations with the Ottoman Empire,” 77. 30. Burton, First Foot Steps in East Africa. 31. Imbert-Vier, “Afars, Issa . . . and Djiboutians.” 32. Malécot, Les voyageurs français. 33. Daguenet, Aux origines de l’implantation française, 176–177. 34. Rawson, “European Territorial Claims,” 105. 35. On Aden, see Gavin, Aden Under British Rule. 36. Farnie, East and West of Suez. 37. Right, “Policy and Actions of Imperialist Powers,” 1. 38. Mesghenna, Italian Colonialism. 39. Talhami, Suakin and Massawa Under Egyptian Rule. 40. Ben-Dror, “The Egyptian Hikimdāriya nd.” 41. Jesman, “Egyptian Invasion of Ethiopia”; Rubenson, Survival of Ethiopian Independence, 288–329; Tignor, Egypt: A Short History. 42. Pankhurst, “Harar under Egyptian Rule,” 1. 43. Lowe and Marzari, Italian Foreign Policy, 36. 44. Ram, Anglo-Ethiopian Relations, 58–86. 45. Ropp, Development of a Modern Navy, 150. 46. Brunschwig, “Une colonie inutile: Obock,” 44. 47. Prijac, Lagarde l’Ethiopien.

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48. Imbert-Vier, Tracer des frontières à Djibouti. 49. Regarding the various agreements made by France, see Clercq, Recueil des traités de la France, 418–429. 50. Hertslet, Map of Africa by Treaty, 976. 51. For the Adwa War, see Marcus, Life and Times of Menelik II. 52. Regarding this agreement, see Keefer, “Great Britain, France and the Ethiopian Tripartite Treaty.” 53. On the expansion of the Ethiopian state, see Donham and James, Southern Marches of Imperial Ethiopia. 54. Mitchell, Colonizing Egypt; Mitchell, Rule of Experts. 55. Foucault, “Question on Geography”; Foucault, Security, Territory, Population. 56. Cohen, Colonialism and Its Forms of Knowledge. 57. On the link between colonialism and the discipline of demography, see Ittmann, Cordell, and Maddox, The Demographics of Empire. 58. On how law was used as a technique of governing colonial subjects, see Mamdani, Citizen and Subject; Chanock, Law, Custom and Social Order; Hussin, Politics of Islamic Law. 59. See Mamdani, Citizen and Subject. 60. The formation of the various external and internal boundaries of Djibouti has been excellently documented by the work of Simon Imbert-Vier, Tracer des frontières à Djibouti and “Afars, Issa . . . and Djiboutians.” 61. Bezabeh, Subjects of Empires, 29–43. 62. Ibid., 29–43. 63. Ibid., 20–43. 64. Both Arab and European travelers who went to the coastal region before the establishment of European hegemony provide important glimpses into this issue. For the accounts of the travelers, see Ibn Battuta, The Travels of Ibn Battuta; D’Abbadie, Douze ans dans la Haute Ethiopie; Harris, The Highland of Æthiopia; Burton, First Foot Steps in East Africa; Parkyns, Life in Abyssinia. 65. Bezabeh, Subjects of Empires, 29–33. 66. See Imbert-Vier, “Afars, Issa . . . and Djiboutians.” 67. Henrique, Les colonies françaises, 100–101. Author’s translation. 68. On the Service de Sécurité et des Affaires Indigènes, see Exposition Coloniale Internationale, Notice illustrée sur la côte française des Somalis, 42; Poydenot, Obock: Station de ravitaillement, 67. 69. On the bifurcation of the judicial system, see République Française, “Décret portant organisation du service judiciaire dans le protectorat français de la Côte des Somalis,” Journal Officiel de la République, 4 September 1894. 70. Imbert-Vier, “Afars, Issa . . . and Djiboutians,” 132. 71. Ibid. 72. Ibid., 133. 73. Ibid., 133–134; Imbert-Vier, “Après l’empire.” 74. MacArthur, Cartography and Political Imagination. 75. Mamdani, Citizen and Subject. 76. Le Pointe, Henri, La Colonisation Française, 13–15. 77. République Française, “Décret du 31 mars 1945 portant réorganisation du Conseil d’administration de la côte française des Somalis.” 78. See République Française, “Ordonnance No. 45-1.87,” 167. 79. On the Conseil Représentatifs that was formed in Djibouti and its composition, see “Des institutions de la république,” Le Réveil, 2 October 1946; République Française, “Décret no. 45-2786 du 9 novembre 1945 portant création d’un conseil représentatif de la Côte Française des Somalis et dépendances,” 1945.

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39

80. On the Yemeni Arabs of Djibouti, see Rouaud, “Pour une histoire des Arabes de Djibouti”; Bezabeh, Subjects of Empires. 81. For further discussion regarding the social stratification system among the Yemenis, see Bujra, The Politics of Stratification. 82. Mamdani, Define and Rule. 83. On the favoritism accorded to the Arabs, particularly in the labor sector, see Killion, “Workers, Capital and the State,” 204–210. 84. Bezabeh, Subjects of Empires, 150. 85. Killion, “Workers, Capital and the State,” 212–215. 86. Le Réveil, 11 March 1946; Le Réveil, 26 March 1946. 87. “Les résultats des élections,” Le Réveil, 13 November 1946. 88. Thompson and Adloff, Djibouti and the Horn of Africa, 61–101. 89. Ibid. 90. Côte Française des Somalis, “Rapport du 12 janvier 1949,” Archive of Chemin de Fer Djibouti-Éthiopien, Addis Ababa. 91. Thompson and Adloff, Djibouti and the Horn of Africa, 63. 92. Dubois, Said Ali Coubèche, 83. 93. On this, see Branch and Mampilly, Africa Uprising, 22. 94. On labor-union movements in post–World War II Africa, see Cooper, Decolonisation and the African Society. 95. On Harbi and his politics, see Coubba, Mahmoud Harbi. 96. For colonial government reports and assessments regarding the labor strikes called by Harbi, see Archives Nationales d’Outre-Mer (henceforth ANOM), AFF POL 688, “S.G-R.G No. 132, Article de presse a/s grève de Djibouti,” 26 August 1953. 97. See Roche, “La loi-cadre du 23 juin 1956.” 98. Yihun, Djibouti: Ye Tegegnetachen Mesferya. 99. On the influence of Nasserite ideology in sub-Saharan Africa, see Mazuri, “Africa and Egypt’s Four Circles.” 100. ANOM, AFF POL 688, “S.G-R.G No. 132, Article de presse a/s grève de Djibouti,” 26 August 1953. 101. ANOM, COM COL 1 AFF POL 2101, “Note de renseignement activité de Said Ali Coubèche,” 14 October 1953. File: Côte Française des Somalis Activités Musulmanes. 102. Yihun, Djibouti: Ye Tegegnetachen Mesferya. 103. Tripodi, Colonial Legacy in Somalia. 104. Eshete, “Root Cause of Political Problems in the Ogaden.” 105. The role of the British encouraging this form of nationalism began long before the emergence of independent Somalia and relates to the formation of a youth league that came to be known as the Somali Youth League. On the role of the British, see Barnes, “Somali Youth League, Ethiopian Somali and the Greater Somali Idea.” On the Ogaden incorporation into Ethiopia, see Marcus, “United States and the Ethiopian Recovery of the Ogaden.” 106. On the role of the UN decolonization committee, see Dubois, “L’ONU et la décolonisation de la Corne de l’Afrique.” 107. Lata, Horn of Africa as a Common Homeland, p. 160. 108. On the policy Ethiopia followed, see Yihun, Djibouti: Ye Tegegnetachen Mesferya. 109. Interview with Abdallah Mohamed Kamil, former prime minister of Djibouti, November 2009. 110. “Demain 19 mars, les électeurs de la C.F.S. son appellés à répondre par oui ou par non,” Le Réveil de Djibouti, 18 March 1967; “Communiqué,” Le Réveil de Djibouti, 18 March 1967.

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111. On the events that occurred following de Gaulle’s visit, see Thompson and Adloff, Djibouti and the Horn of Africa, 86–87; Coubba, Djibouti: Une nation en otage, 105–107. 112. Thompson and Adloff, Djibouti and the Horn of Africa. 113. On the land reform, see Ottaway, “Land Reform in Ethiopia.” 114. Tholomier, Djibouti: Pawn of the Horn of Africa. 115. Ibid. 116. On the US base in Ethiopia, see Baissa, “United States Military Assistance to Ethiopia.” 117. On Soviet involvement in Ethiopia and the Horn of Africa, see Patman, Soviet Union in the Horn of Africa; Legum and Lee, Horn of Africa in Continuing Crisis; Tholomier, Djibouti: Pawn of the Horn of Africa; Lefebvre, “The United States, Ethiopia and the 1963 Somali–Soviet Arms Deal.” 118. On the split between the Soviets and Chinese, see Lüthi, The Sino-Soviet Split. 119. See Legum and Lee, Horn of Africa in Continuing Crisis. 120. On Cuban involvement, see Gleijeses, Conflicting Missions. 121. On the volatile relations at the time, particularly the changing role of the United States and the Soviet Union, see Jackson, Jimmy Carter and the Horn of Africa; Ottaway, Soviet and American Influence in the Horn of Africa. 122. On the United States backing out of its military deal, see Jackson, Jimmy Carter and the Horn of Africa. 123. “Le discours de M. Abdallah Mohamed Kamil devant la Chambre des Députés, Sunday 31 July 1976.” Author’s translation. 124. “La conférence de Paris a pris fin sur un large accord,” Le Réveil de Djibouti, 26 March 1977. 125. “Territoire des Afar et des Issas: la composition de la future assemblée,” Le Monde, 26 April 1977. 126. “Dimanche référendum à Djibouti,” Le Figaro, 4 May 1977; “Djibouti: les derniers jours tricolores,” Le Figaro, 24 June 1977. 127. Fanon, Wretched of the Earth.

3 Freedom Road: The Presidency of Hassan Gouled Aptidon

THE FRENCH WHO COLONIZED PRESENT-DAY DJIBOUTI CAST

themselves not as brutal colonizers but as the developers of the region and the bringers of modernization and civilization to Djibouti, which they described in terms of ferocity, aridness, and backwardness of both the people and the land. 1 The 1922 colonial exhibition in Paris underlined this fact. The bulletin published for the occasion made a point of demonstrating the civilization and the development that France had created. Furthermore, it asserted that the good works accomplished by the French would have been even better were it not for the repeated sabotage by the British Empire.2 It was hoped that the bulletin would depict the efforts that the French had made despite the setbacks from Great Britain. On 27 June 1977, this French claim of being the big brother of the Djiboutians, whom they had colonized for ninety-three years, came to an end. In the final days of the French colonial presence, the Haut Commissaire de la République, Camille d’Ornano, was engaged in the inevitable and highly symbolic act of clearing out the palace in which he and the previous colonial governors had lived.3 Finally, after a long wait, Djibouti had arrived at its aspiration, the independent state of Djibouti, settled by a referendum in May 1977.4 On the very day of the referendum, Hassan Gouled Aptidon, the Issa politician who would become the first president of Djibouti, expressed this hope in no uncertain terms: Citizens, brothers and sisters, thanks to God the results of the election is Yes, a magnificent Yes that will lead to independence. Today our people have risen to the call of liberty hoping for peace, unity and

41

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Djibouti

fraternity. . . . A decisive step is taken: our liberation is acquired. And here is a new state before us, one that is marked by the construction and development of a brotherly and just society. . . . Forward for the construction of the country. Forward to a new victory.5

Although Aptidon was asserting the victory of the people, what he and the majority of Djiboutians were dreaming of did not differ greatly from the colonizer. Their vision was of progress and human development, liberty and equality, tied to a modern state. If there was a difference, it was not about the visions and dreams but about the type of state. While the colonialists had claimed that the colonial state would bring development, as described in the bulletin of the 1922 colonial exhibition, those who agitated for independence claimed that only an independent state and the freedom that comes with it could bring development and human liberty. At the level of dreams and visions, both the colonizer and the colonized exhibited a belief in the modernist vision in which man will live happily in a state that he himself constructs. In this respect, Aptidon’s slogan of liberty, equality, and freedom was telling, as it was taken directly from the French revolution. However, when after more than a century the Djiboutians seemed to have arrived at the horizon of their dream world with the start of the decolonization process, this dream world that they longed for came with a series of anxieties related to its sovereignty. Djibouti was squeezed between Somalia and Ethiopia, who were in violent conflict as Somalia attempted to unify all Somalispeaking territories in the region, including the one in Ethiopia. As we saw in the previous chapter, shortly before independence, Djibouti’s upcoming sovereignty became a battlefield for the two larger countries as each one tried to incorporate the territory. The romance of having a state appeared difficult to achieve, as the Djibouti population of 200,000 was no match for Somalia and Ethiopia, with populations of 20 million and 40 million, respectively. Djibouti did not have an army of its own or a viable economy. Its environment was desert, and the entire Djibouti budget came from the colonial power. In short, Djibouti lacked a monopoly of violence, and hence, as Carl Schmitt affirmed, the ability to name an enemy and wage war.6 This situation made the Djiboutian romance of the state contingent on the very colonial power that the people had just rejected. As we see further below, although the colonial administrators were removed from the governor’s house, the military came to stay, as part of a series of agreements that continued the French presence in Djibouti, including a stipulation that the new state could not nationalize French capital in the territory.7

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Thus, on the eve of independence the viability of the Djiboutian state was drawn into question, as many wondered whether this decolonization was real or false and whether the Ethiopians or Somalis would take over the country. Questions were also raised as to what the involvement of the French would mean to long-term interethnic relations as well as to long-term self-reliance. Taking all of these factors into account, an article in the Financial Times actually predicted that Djibouti was set to become one of the trouble spots of the world in the near future.8 Despite the worries, there was an abundance of hope, which created enthusiasm among the people. The hope was that the elite who claimed to represent the ethnic groups of Djibouti would come together and form a united government. This would be a great achievement indeed, as the three main ethnic groups of the territory—the Issa Somali, the Afar, and the Arabs—were in violent conflict with each other due to the colonial architecture of power. In view of this long history, the Paris conference in which the Djiboutian elite agreed to form a unity government was an impressive achievement. This was the government in place at the moment of independence. The presidency was occupied by Hassan Gouled Aptidon, representing the Issa, and the prime minister was Ahmed Dini, representing the Afar. The creation of a unified government in spite of all the obstacles was a euphoric moment indeed. This hope for the future was emphasized time and again by the elites, notably Aptidon, who on the day of independence gave another rousing speech similar to the one that he gave when the referendum was won: Brothers and sisters of the capital, circles of Ali Sabih, Tajura of Dichili, and Obock, let us give thanks to God, the Almighty and Merciful God, because here we are finally reunited for freedom. Here is a new nation that rose in peace, unity, and fraternity. Yes, here is finally the free and independent Djibouti. Yes, Djibouti will live free as an independent nation; here is the fruit of your victory.9

Continuing his speech, which was later printed as a pamphlet, Aptidon spoke bitterly against tribalism, which he declared to be the enemy of the new independent nation and a tactic employed by those opposed to the nation’s sovereignty. Rather, Aptidon stated, national unity was a phenomenon that could withstand all threats.10 He saw tribalism as the main evil threatening the nation-state. Because tribalism relies on family networks rather than competence and engenders clientelism and rivalry, it threatened the efficiency of the nation’s bureaucracy and hampered the country’s economic development.11

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Interestingly, the speech as reported in the pamphlet also related tribalism to the economic structure that was created by the colonial state. Noting the concentration of French capital in the southern part of Djibouti during the colonial period, the pamphlet asserted that the consequent loss of the traditional caravan trade in the Afar north had had a negative effect on development in the northern region.12 In the new politics, Aptidon claimed, tribalism would disappear, as more equitable distribution and investment would reduce the regional economic imbalances.13 The president also envisioned a new way forward for the young nation of Djibouti: rather than tribalism, he affirmed that the nation should rely on hard work and the creation of communities of workers.14 It was his dream that Djibouti’s sense of nationalism should be based on national service and respect for different cultural heritages, particularly the nation’s linguistic legacy.15 Through these processes, the new national leaders hoped that the postcolonial state of Djibouti would move beyond what Aptidon referred to as “l’élitisme tribal” (tribal elitism), which had come about as a result of the imposition of a colonial structure that, he asserted, forced each clan and tribe to give its members to the colonial administrators for the purpose of representing native people.16 Despite this optimistic vision, and the formation of a government composed of different political parties, Djibouti’s postindependence path was not easy. Although the territorial integrity of the state was not at risk, as all the neighboring countries and international bodies recognized it, the war between Ethiopia and Somalia that began two weeks prior to Djibouti’s independence threatened Djibouti’s internal political stability.17 The territory’s economic viability, which is intrinsically linked to Ethiopia, was affected by the sabotaging of the railroad and other Ethiopian infrastructure by pro-Mogadishu forces, the Afar Liberation Front (ALF), which obtained considerable support from Somalia as well as from Saudi Arabia, which was interested in curbing the spread of communism.18 The newly formed government was itself split into pro-Somalia and pro-Ethiopia camps. The Issa Somalis in the government showed little interest in stopping the activity of their pro-Somalia ethnic compatriots, while the Afar, who had long feared domination by the Somalis, took a pro-Ethiopia stance. Members of the Marxist-Leninist Party (MLP), which was formed by young Afar, were particularly ardent supporters of the Derg, who had also adopted a Marxist-Leninist ideology.19 However, the split among the politicians was not based solely on the issue of supporting or not supporting Derg Ethiopia or Siad Barre

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Somalia. The Afar also complained of Issa Somali domination and the fact that the Afar prime minister exercised limited power, as he was made answerable to the president.20 This grievance was soon brought into the open as a result of two attacks that helped to create a permanent rift in the government. In October, two Afar gunmen took over a plane on the runaway of Tadjoura airport and killed the French pilot.21 In December, a grenade attack on a café, Le Palmier en Zinc, killed six people, several of whom were French.22 The Issa within the government attributed the attack to the Afar, particularly to members of the MPL, who they said were directed by the Ethiopian government in order to serve Ethiopia’s ambition of obtaining access to the sea.23 Following the Palmier en Zinc attack, Aptidon ordered a crackdown in the Afar neighborhood of the capital city, which led to the arrest of some 600 Afar and the seizure of weapons.24 Ahmed Dini saw the measure as an attack on the Afar community and resigned, along with four other Afar ministers.25 The MLP saw the crackdown as an Issa-led victimization that falsely painted them as a pro-Ethiopian and anti-Djiboutian force.26 The mass resignation forced the president to rule by decree and reallocate ministerial positions. Most notably, he named Abdallah Mohamed Kamil, the Afar president during the transition period, to the position of prime minister in February 1978.27 His tenure in office was brief. In October 1978, he was dismissed after attending a military parade commemorating Ethiopia’s victory over Somalia because his participation was regarded by the Issa Somalis as an anti-Somali act.28 As a replacement, Aptidon brought in Barakat Gourad Hamadou, another Afar.29 The internal contradictions that pitted Afar and Issa against each other had no impact on the survival of the state as a result of the role played by France. Shortly after independence, Djibouti and France had signed an economic agreement providing Djibouti with financial and technical aid, as well as a military agreement that permitted the French to have a military base in Djibouti and to intervene in case of an external aggression. 30 Although Djibouti also obtained economic aid from countries such as Saudi Arabia and other nations of the Arab League, in which Djibouti had obtained membership following independence,31 it was the military presence of France that guaranteed Djibouti’s sovereignty in the face of its two giant neighbors, Somalia and Ethiopia, both of which aspired to annex the country.32 The general aid obtained from France and the importance of the French army to the economy cannot be understated. In the first year, France provided US$1,800,000 to cover Djibouti’s budget deficit and also spent nearly

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US$22,500,000 to form the first contingent of a modern, mechanized army. 33 In 1995, some eighteen years after independence, more than 40 percent of Djibouti’s government budget was obtained from the French military base.34 The French military and their families, who by then numbered 12,000, accounted for 0.5 percent of the gross domestic product (GDP), and 80 percent of the active working population of Djibouti was employed in the service sector, which by and large caters to the French military and their families. This externally driven tranquility and viability did not realize the romance that decolonization would lead to freedom and equality. In 1979 the government banned the MPL and imprisoned its members, claiming that they were pro-Ethiopia forces who were engaged in destabilizing Djibouti. The MPL, besides pointing out what they called an Issa dictatorship, accused the French, whom they considered imperialists, of buying in to the Issa manipulation that cast them as proEthiopian. They also accused the French of involvement in the government-led crackdown against MPL members for the sake of maintaining their military presence and demanded their immediate departure.35 In 1979, Aptidon tightened his grip on power by announcing the formation of a single national party, the Rassemblement Populaire pour le Progrès (RPP), in a meeting held in the town of Dikhil. In 1981, the national assembly of Djibouti adopted a law that recognized the RPP as the sole legal party, the only one permitted to propose candidates for the national assembly.36 In addition, the assembly was asked to approve the direct election of the president and transfer all power to the government. This move consolidated the single-party system. Certain postindependence developments also strengthened the position of the president. Rather than being elected by a central committee, the members of the RPP politburo were nominated by the president himself by 1982.37 This preeminence of the RPP and the creation of a single-party system resulted in President Aptidon winning the 1981 election by 98 percent.38 It also made internal stability difficult to achieve. Crackdowns on vocal political dissidents became routine. In 1981, an attempt to oppose Aptidon through the creation of the Parti Populaire Djiboutien (PPD) by the former Afar prime minister Ahmed Dini led to the immediate banning of the party and the imprisonment of seven of its leaders, including Ahmed Dini.39 The political situation in the 1980s created dissidents within the ruling party, as political elites who were aspiring to replace Aptidon were sidelined. In May 1986, the third vice president of the party, Aden Robleh Awaleh, an Issa Somali who had been the leader of the FLCS party

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before independence, was excluded from the party because he was constantly seeking Aptidon’s position.40 The political problems of Djibouti were not limited to party politics. In 1985, some twenty Issa Somalis, led by Lieutenant Amir Bough, the former chief of military security, clandestinely left Djibouti and sought refuge in Ethiopia.41 Bough was accused of the attempted assassination of a military officer and was imprisoned for four years in 1980, after which the government failed to reintegrate him in the army. His escape was allegedly organized by the Soviet embassy, which during this period received a number of asylum requests from people who opposed the government. Shortly after the Bough incident, Mohamed Habib Loita, the Afar minister of national defense, resigned from his position for undisclosed reasons and exiled himself, leading to tension within the army.42 Subsequently, the government arrested Captain Mohamed Abdillahi Shire and Adou Ali Adou.43 After Aden Robleh Awaleh’s exclusion from the party, the government also mistrusted the 300 former FLCS militiamen who were incorporated in the national army at independence, fearing that they would hold a grudge over Aden Robleh Awaleh’s demotion and create problems within the army.44 In 1986, the dissatisfaction against the Aptidon regime was brought into the open. An explosion targeted the offices of the RPP when they were hosting members of the Intergovernmental Authority on Development (IGAD). The attack was attributed to sidelined members of the Issa clan who were opposing the imprisonment of Captain Mohamed Abdillahi Shire.45 In September 1986, the Djiboutian government found Aden Robleh Awaleh guilty of being the main instigator of the attack and condemned him to life imprisonment in absentia for the crime of attempted assassination and destabilization. Aden Robleh Awaleh promptly fled the country.46 Over the next few years, Djibouti witnessed more bombings. On 18 March 1987, during another IGAD meeting, l’Historil, a café frequented by foreigners—most of whom were French—was bombed, killing ten people and injuring forty.47 The government accused the Mouvement National Djiboutien pour l’Instauration de la Démocratie (MNDID), a party that Aden Robleh Awaleh formed in exile in February 1987,48 and arrests were made.49 By the close of the 1980s, the aspiration for freedom and equality within the framework of an independent state was in disarray. The independent state, whose nascent sovereignty was maintained mainly by French military and economic aid, was not able to disentangle politics

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and ethnicity, a colonial creation that was effectively institutionalized when the political elites negotiated the decolonization of Djibouti among themselves. Contrary to the rosy future promised by the nationalist elite, Djibouti came to be marked by both inter- and intra-ethnic conflict, which was fanned by regional war and the personalization of presidential rule. As we see in the following section, the political leaders of Djibouti attempted to reform the tragedy that followed independence by embracing the idea of democratization that came to be regarded in the 1990s as the second liberation of Africa.

The Romance of the Second Liberation: Post–Cold War Politics of Multiplicity Within the African context, the 1990s were marked by a process of democratization. The ideal of multiparty democracy, which grew as the Cold War ended, was regarded as the second liberation of the continent, the process by which the people would finally reclaim the state from the autocratic postindependence African leaders.50 Throughout this period, civil protests and civil wars aimed at reforming the state became common.51 The combination of the two tactics led to the widespread establishment of multiparty politics in Africa.52 The enthusiasm was particularly marked in francophone Africa with the election of the Socialist François Mitterrand, as well as with the speech that he gave on 20 June 1990 in favor of multiparty democracy at the sixteenth conference of France and African heads of state at La Baule-Escoublac. Mitterrand asserted that from that moment onward France would tie its aid to the process of democratization. Mitterrand’s election was regarded as a landmark event that would set Africa’s relations with France on a more progressive road and usher in a new era of democracy.53 Like many African countries at the time, Djibouti was engulfed in a wave of prodemocratization sentiment. The northern region, inhabited by the Afar, who had long complained about Issa domination, and the capital city, particularly the Afar neighborhood of Arhiba, became sites for struggles. In August 1990, four Afar were arrested in the capital for possessing antigovernment tracts.54 Those arrested included Ali Couba, director of a bank; Aden Mohamed Dileyta, an Afar working for the United Nations Children’s Fund; Mohamed Dileyta, a journalist working for the government-owned journal La Nation; and Kassim Ahmed Dini an employee of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.55 In January 1991, leading Afar politicians, including Ali Aref, Mohamed Daoud Chehem, and Aref Mohamed Aref, were arrested for

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allegedly conspiring to plot a coup.56 A demonstration in the Arhiba district to oppose the arrests led to the death of one person and the arrest of some 800 Afar, including eighty who were members of the Force Nationale de Sécurité (FNS).57 During this ongoing repression, Djiboutian politicians in exile attempted to organize for what they believed would be the inevitable process of democratization that they were already witnessing in many parts of Africa. For this purpose, Afar and Issa politicians came together to form a single party, the Union des Mouvements Démocratiques (UMD), in March 1990 in Belgium.58 The party brought together Aden Robleh Awaleh’s party, the MNDID, and the Front Démocratique de Libération de Djibouti (FDLD), which was formed as an underground party by Mohamed Adoyta Youssef. By September 1991, the opposition to Aptidon had clearly become an armed resistance, fueled by the availability of weapons as a result of the ousting of both the Derg in Ethiopia and the Siad Barre regime in Somalia by rebel forces and the consequent dispersion of weapons that had been held by the respective armies.59 In August 1991, Afar politicians formed the Front pour la Restoration de l’Unité et de la Démocratie (FRUD), which launched a military campaign and managed to take control of key locations in the northern hinterland of Djibouti, which is largely inhabited by Afar.60 In November 1991, Djibouti was plunged into civil war, and the government ordered all of its citizens to mobilize.61 Characterizing the conflict as a threat to the territorial integrity of the country, the government declared the civil war to be a foreign invasion rather than an attempt to form a democratic society.62 In December, however, the government acknowledged that the civil war was an attempt to establish multiparty democracy after a routine identity check conducted in Arhiba ended in violence and the deaths of 210 people, 200 of whom were lined up and shot by government forces after some Afar refused to comply.63 Following widespread international condemnation, Aptidon was forced to announce that the upcoming 1992 election would be conducted on a multiparty basis. He promised a referendum on this issue, but only after the “armed bands operating in the north of the country have been chased out of the national territory.”64 The conflict brought into question not only Aptidon’s rule but also the established relations with France. The government, categorizing the conflict as an external invasion, asked France to intervene in accordance with their defense agreement.65 Rather than immediately

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mobilizing its troops, France opted for a much softer approach and sent envoys to assess the situation and take on a mediating role. The French only intervened in February 1992 following a veiled threat from the Aptidon regime. In the face of France’s indecision, the Djiboutian government procured arms from China, which Aptidon acknowledged when questioned by the French media in February 1992.66 Prior to this, on 17 January 1992, it had been made very clear that the government of Djibouti was reconsidering its military ties with France when Prime Minister Hamadou declared that the government was “conducting a study of military presence in Djibouti after France’s refusal to intervene militarily to help fight Afar militias infiltrated from Ethiopia.”67 By the time Hamadou made this declaration, the war had reached a critical point. The government troops had lost 20,000 square kilometers of Djibouti’s 23,000 square kilometers, and the FRUD army was fighting Aptidon’s military in the town of Dikhil, 100 kilometers southwest of the capital city.68 It was at this stage that the French authorities sent M. Alain Vivien, the secrétaire d’état française aux affaires étrangères, on a mission to Djibouti. He declared on 23 January 1992, through Paul Dijoud, the director of African and Malagasy affairs at the French Ministry of Foreign Affairs, that France would intervene in the war.69 A few days later, France engaged in an alleged “peace mission” in which 250 soldiers were sent to Dikhil to create a buffer zone between the two armies—an intervention that halted both the FRUD advance and the fall of the Aptidon government.70 The opposition viewed the move as an attempt to impose a dictator on the people through sheer military force.71 FRUD, forced to choose between stopping its advance or fighting the more powerful French army, declared a ceasefire on 27 November. In a statement made on 9 April 1992, they declared the imminence of a coming reprisal and asked the French to provide safe passage for the Afar rebels.72 The intervention of the French gave the government some muchneeded breathing space. The Aptidon government held a constitutional referendum on 4 September, soliciting the opinion of the public on changing the country to a multiparty system.73 However, half of the population did not participate in the vote following a call for a boycott by FRUD. Nonetheless, the new constitution was approved by 96.8 percent of those who cast votes in the referendum.74 Subsequently, the government announced the first multiparty elections—with the participation of a maximum of four parties—to select members of the national assembly. In September 1992, Aden

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Robleh Awaleh returned to Djibouti (after obtaining an amnesty from the government) to participate in the new opportunity.75 However, the minister of interior failed to recognize the new party that Aden Robleh Awaleh had formed in Paris in April 1992, the Parti National Démocratique (PND), and legitimized only the RPP, the ruling party, and the Parti de Renouveau Démocratique (PRD), which was formed by Mohamed Djama Elabeh, the minister of public health, following the start of the civil war. The government argued that the PND failed to fulfill the necessary condition for forming a party, namely the proportional representation of different ethnic groups within the party.76 In a situation where half of the 140,000 registered voters refrained from casting their vote, RPP was declared the victor with 72 percent of the vote. 77 Despite its nonparticipation, the PND organized a demonstration in the capital following the announcement of the result, accusing the government of manipulation and massive fraud. The demonstrators were violently dispersed by the police.78 In May 1993, Djibouti held a presidential election. This one was a contest between Aptidon (RPP), Elabeh (PRD), Aden Robleh Awaleh (PND), and two independent candidates (Mohamed Moussa Ali and Ahmed Ibrahim Abdi). This was a controversial election, marred by accusations of fraud. Aptidon was able to obtain 60.7 percent of the vote and by February managed to form a government.79 The French government, however, seemed to be unaware of the politics that the Aptidon regime was practicing. Jacques Chirac went so far as to describe Aptidon as “one of the wise men who is needed by the world.”80 What Aptidon achieved was not only legitimacy but also a decisive victory over FRUD by rearming and reorganizing the government forces. Following the French intervention, the government was able to increase its troops from 8,000 to 20,000, largely by recruiting Ethiopian Issa into the army.81 It was rumored that the government had enlisted military advisors from Poland, Croatia, and Serbia.82 FRUD also claimed that the government was obtaining arms, advisors, and combatants from the Eritrean government.83 By November 1992, the government army was ready for battle and wanted the French army to withdraw. In that month, Aptidon visited France and announced, together with the French foreign minister, that the government had agreed to direct talks with the rebel group.84 However, he subsequently accused the French troops of “going beyond humanitarian aid” and demanded their withdrawal.85 By the end of the month, the planned direct talks had failed, and France blamed the rebels for not fulfilling the precondition of the talks, which was the release of

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all prisoners.86 In early December 1992, the French army returned to its barracks, bowing to Aptidon’s demands. The government galvanized more troops near rebel-held areas by the end of the 1992 legislative election and launched an all-out offensive on the rebel groups in the first week of January 1993.87 In that month, the government army controlled PK9 (Point Kilométrique 9), a key location that leads to Randa, the region where the rebels had a stronghold.88 It also took up positions around a strategic mineral water plant situated a few kilometers from the town of Tadjoura.89 By March, the army took Khor Angar, a coastal village from which the rebels traveled to Yemen by boat to fetch supplies.90 By July, Randa was overrun by government forces. This development led to the fragmentation of FRUD between a moderate, pronegotiation group led by Ali Mohamed Daoud and Ougoureh Kifleh Ahmed, and a radical faction led by Ahmed Dini, who opted for the continuation of the armed struggle.91 The moderates started negotiating with the government and signed a peace deal on 26 December 1994. 92 This enabled the leadership of this group to obtain positions in the government and facilitated FRUD’s conversion to a legal party on 9 March 1996.93 The signing of the peace deal with the moderate wing signaled the end of the civil war, despite continued resistance by the radical wing, which by then was only in control of small and remote areas. Politically speaking, the peace deal was regarded as a step toward fulfilling the dream of multiparty democracy. However, as we see in the following section, the second liberation did not result in democratic freedom.

The Tragedy of the Second Liberation: Old Guard, Old Tragedies, Newer Format In December 1995, Aptidon was taken seriously ill while attending the sixth summit of the International Organization of the Francophonie in Benin. He was flown to France and hospitalized at the Paris-based military hospital Val de Grace.94 His absence and the knowledge that Aptidon was ailing led to a race for succession among three candidates: Ismail Omar Guelleh, the top Issa politician of the party and Aptidon’s nephew, who served as head of the Djibouti security service until he was nominated by Aptidon as cabinet chief in 1985; Ismail Guedi Hared, Aptidon’s cabinet director; and Moumin Bahdon Farah, the foreign minister. The race for supremacy gained significance as a result of

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the legislative election that was fixed for 1997, as the contenders saw this as their moment of opportunity. However, Aptidon recovered within three months. He returned to Djibouti and started taking action against critical party members and their supporters. He dismissed Moumin Bahdon Farah and Ahmed Boulaleh Barreh, the minister of defense, from the government.95 After a committee led by Hamadou was organized to evaluate the party’s internal politics, the two men were also suspended from the party.96 The committee, called the Commission for Discipline and for the Resolution of Internal Conflict (Commission de discipline et de règlement des conflits internes), also recommended the suspension of Ismail Guedi Hared and Ali Mahamad Houmed. The committee accused all four of sabotaging the country’s economic growth, of endangering the peace accord concluded with FRUD, and of insulting the president, as they had claimed that Aptidon was leading the country by brute force and in a manner that contravened the country’s constitution. Purporting to be acting on the advice of this independent committee, Aptidon expelled the four from the party on 22 May 1996. This removal proved insufficient, as members of the group formed a new opposition movement, the Coordination de l’Opposition Djiboutienne (COD), by collaborating with the opposition.97 Headed by Aden Robleh Awaleh from the PND, the COD included the radical FRUD and the Groupe pour la Démocratie et la République (RPP-GDR), a new RPP faction founded by Ismail Guedi Hared in April, shortly after his expulsion from the RPP.98 The COD official blamed the party in power for the continuing economic and political crisis even though the civil war was nearly over.99 By the end of July 1996, the parliamentary immunity of former RPP members who joined the COD but who were still members of parliament (Moumin Bahdon Farah, Ahmed Boulaleh Barreh, and Ali Ahmed Houmed) was removed. The general prosecutor found the three men guilty of embezzlement and insulting the president, and sentenced them to six months in prison.100 RPP dissidents were not the only ones targeted. Despite the institutionalization of elections, there was no progress in terms of the way the government conducted itself toward the opposition. On 27 October 1995, Aden Robleh Awaleh, along with M. Farah Ali Waberi, the spokesperson of the PND, was arrested and brought to court after organizing a prodemocracy demonstration, which had been banned by the Ministry of Interior.101 Sentenced to one month in prison, the two were released shortly after, but several PND members languished in prison

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for much longer.102 In 1997, a crackdown was directed against the PRD, which was experiencing internal divisions as a result of the unexpected death of its leader, Mohamed Djama Elabeh, on 26 November 1997.103 The government recognized a faction of this party, led by Abdillahi Hamareteh Guelleh, while the other and more vocal faction was threatened. On 28 May 1997, six members of this faction, including its leader, Mohamed Ahmed Kassim, who was vice president of the PRD, were briefly detained for attempting to organize a meeting.104 The sidelining of Issa political veterans of the RPP who could have mobilized the support of a substantial number of Issa Somalis, and the repression of other opposition parties, set the stage for the legislative election scheduled for 19 December 1997. To run in the election, the RPP formed an alliance with FRUD.105 The election was conducted in an environment in which all the opposition parties were harassed, either by direct imprisonment or by encouraging or discouraging particular factions of the opposition. It was won by the RPP-FRUD coalition. The two parties together controlled all sixty-five seats of the national assembly.106 On 9 January 1998, Aptidon released three of his four imprisoned former colleagues: Ahmed Boulaleh Barreh, Ismail Guedi Hared, and Moumin Bahdon Farah.107 Their postelection release was announced as a Ramadan favor on the part of the president. Given the timing, the justification was far-fetched.108 In the face of this situation, France, contrary to its changing African policy of the time, opted to further strengthen its relations with Aptidon’s government. In 1997, under the combined effect of the crisis it faced in Rwanda; the fall of the Mobutu Sese Seko government in Zaire, which it had supported for a long time; and the death of its main architect of African politics, Jacques Foccart, France was forced to reevaluate its African politics and, in particular, its military presence on the continent. This reevaluation led to reductions of French troops in Africa and in some places complete withdrawal.109 In Djibouti, France reduced its troops from 3,200 to 2,500, but compensated for the loss of income that this entailed by giving the Aptidon regime 65 million francs in aid,110 despite the outcry from left-wing members of the French parliament who pointed out the human-rights violations of the regime.111 Thus, to use the terminology of Steven Levitsky and Lucan Way, the politics of the second liberation in Djibouti were marked by “competitive authoritarianism,” in which formal democratic institutions are adopted but the government violates the rules and regulations, leading to the failure of even a minimum conventional standard of democracy.112 In this situation, which is marked by authoritarian governance despite

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the presence of democratic institutions, those who were steering Djibouti politics were the old guard. On the opposition side, Ahmed Dini and Aden Robleh Awaleh, for example, were seasoned politicians who started their careers in the colonial period. The government leadership, headed by Aptidon, had produced no new actors. In this respect, Djibouti politics reflected a similar trend in other parts of Africa where, as Patrick Chabal and Jean-Pascal Daloz have pointed out, “the supposed new leaders are more often than not experienced politicians with a durable career in the echelons of government or administration—even if they have long been out of power on the eve of the latest election.”113 To summarize, in contrast to the literature that has tried to explain political transitions in terms of a single factor or by focusing on internal dynamics, this chapter has explored the political tragedy of Djibouti from a nonreductionist perspective. In this view, it is clear that one of the factors responsible for the political tragedy of Djibouti in the postindependence period was the political-ethnic matrix that developed in the colonial period. Reflecting a similar trend within the broader African context, the colonial state in Djibouti governed the natives by classifying them into ethnic groups and then favoring one ethnic group over the others. The political economy of the colonial state initially exacerbated this situation, because capital and job opportunities were unevenly distributed. The way the natives were organized by the colonial state was mirrored in the way the natives organized themselves for political action, and thus ethnicity became the essential conduit for political action. The two transitions that Djibouti underwent—the decolonizing process and the democratization movement—failed to dismantle this linkage, leading to tension among the various ethnic groups. In addition to the political-ethnic matrix, external factors that help to explain the tragedy of postcolonial Djibouti were also identified. The war between Somalia and Ethiopia strongly influenced the politics of Djibouti, as did the role of the former colonial power. France not only organized the decolonization process, which allowed the continuation of the politicalethnic matrix, but also continued to be involved in the country through the economic and military agreement that was signed at the threshold of independence. France’s presence was instrumental in maintaining the statehood of Djibouti, which otherwise would have been a nonviable entity. It was also important in maintaining the Aptidon regime despite the lack of freedom it represented. Because of France’s interest in maintaining a foothold in this strategic place, Aptidon was able to obtain both state rents and military support, which not only made Djibouti a viable state but also helped him to entrench himself when he was about to be defeated.

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During this period, we also see that the way state power was managed during Aptidon’s rule was a factor in the political tragedy of Djibouti. Soon after independence, Aptidon formed the RPP, which became the predominant party by purging opponents within the government, banning other political parties, and jailing opposition. Within the party, Aptidon established himself as the big man. Any potential opponents were dismissed from office or excluded from the party. This exclusion was a political sidelining rather than an ethnic contestation, as the factor for political sidelining was political aspiration rather than ethnicity. The political sidelining excluded politicians irrespective of their ethnic background, including Issa politicians, who had an upper hand in the postindependence politics of Djibouti. Once excluded, these fallen comrades of Aptidon found a new career in the opposition camp and became new champions of democracy. However, this development did not lead to the rejuvenation of Djibouti’s political environment, as it remained crowded with older members of the elite and continued to be entangled in older forms of politics. Djibouti politics therefore became an older newer politics led by newer older elites. For most of the twenty-two years of the Aptidon government, postindependence politics were a tragedy. For Djiboutians, the civil war and the elections that the voters were dragged into looked like hopeful episodes. But both efforts failed. The civil war, which was waged to bring democracy, was thwarted by France and by that segment of the elite who opted to end the war through negotiations that granted them personal status and positions within the government. Although they were trusted by their fellow citizens as representatives who would guide them, their calculating approach abandoned the dream of the masses in favor of personal gain. As the following chapter shows, the Djiboutian dream of democracy was not destroyed even by these setbacks. Its promise was renewed with the stepping down of Aptidon, who in the eyes of Djiboutians had become an impediment to the realization of the romance of the state. But just as in the first twenty-two years of independence, the new era brought tragedy for the masses and opportunities for the elite.

Notes

1. On the colonialist depiction of the area, see Brunschwig, “Une colonie inutile.” 2. Exposition nationale coloniale de Marseille en 1922: Notice illustrée sur la Côte française des Somalis. Imprimerie du Semaphone, 1922. 3. “Djibouti: les derniers jours tricolores . . .” Le Figaro, 24 June 1977.

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4. André Frys, “Djibouti: la fin du pouvoir colonial,” Lutte ouvrière, 14 May 1977. 5. “Djibouti: la mascarade de l’indépendance,” Aspects de la France, 26 May 1977. 6. Schmitt, The Concept of the Political. 7. “Djibouti, jour de l’indépendance: Un jeune état,” Le Figaro, 27 June 1977. 8. James Buxton, “Djibouti Comes of Age: Independence on the Wing and a Prayer of Hope,” Financial Times, 24 June 1977. 9. Aptidon, Message à la nation, 4. 10. Ibid., 5. 11. Ibid., 7–8. 12. Ibid., 8. 13. Ibid. 14. Ibid., 9. 15. Ibid. 16. Ibid. 17. On the war, see Cooper, Wings over Ogaden. 18. Tiruneh, The Ethiopian Revolution, 206; Tholomier, Djibouti: Pawn of the Horn of Africa. 19. Legum and Lee, Horn of Africa in Continuing Crisis. 20. Jean-Claude Guillebaud, “Le piège,” Le Monde, 17 December 1977. 21. “L’attaque par un commando d’un appareil d’Air Djibouti, fit deux morts à Tadjoura,” Le Monde, 18 October 1977. 22. “Inquiétude à Djibouti,” Le Monde, 17 December 1977. 23. “Les tensions dans la Corne de l’Afrique,” Le Monde, 17 December 1977. 24. “Grave crise,” L’aurore, 19 December 1977. 25. “Menaces sur l’indépendance de Djibouti,” Marchés Tropicaux et Méditerranéens, 23 December 1977. 26. “Le président djiboutien Hassan Gouled dissout le Mouvement Populaire de Libération,” Rouge, 19 December 1977. 27. “M. Abdellah Kamil dirige le nouveau gouvernement,” Le Monde, 7 February 1978. 28. Interview, Abdallah Mohamed Kamil, 11 December 2010, Djibouti. 29. “M. Barakat Gourat Hamadou est nommé Premier Ministre,” Le Monde, 3 October 1978. 30. See “Décret no 85-1171 du 5 novembre 1985 portant publication du protocole provisoire fixant les conditions de stationnement des forces françaises sur le territoire de la République de Djibouti après l’Indépendance et les principes de la coopération militaire entre le Gouvernement de la République Française et le Gouvernement de la République de Djibouti, signé à Djibouti le 27 juin 1977,” Journal Officiel de la République, 10 November 1985, p. 13060; “Décret no 87-81 du 5 février 1987 portant publication de l’accord de coopération en matière économique et financière entre le Gouvernement de la République Française et le Gouvernement de la République de Djibouti, fait à Djibouti le 27 juin 1977,” Journal Officiel de la République, 11 February 1987, p. 1555. 31. On Saudi Arabian and Arab League aid, see “Djibouti et économie de services,” Marchés Tropicaux et Méditerranéens, 10 October 1978, no 1719; “L’aide arabe,” La Lettre de l’Océan Indien, 9 April 1983. 32. “L’indépendance en liberté surveillée,” Le Matin, 27 June 1977. 33. “Djibouti relation extérieure et coopération,” Marchés Tropicaux et Méditerranéens, no. 1704, 7 July 1978, p. 1884.

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34. Michel Klen, “L’armée française à Djibouti,” Marchés Tropicaux et Méditerranéens, no. 2614, 15 December 1995, pp. 2772–2774. 35. “A Djibouti 125 militants du Mouvement Populaire de Libération arrêtés et disparus,” Rouge, 21 December 1977. 36. “Djibouti,” La Lettre de l’Océan Indien, 17 April 1982, p. 4; “Djibouti: Gouled’s Tight Rope,” Africa Confidential, 11 November 1981. 37. “Djibouti, bureau politique,” La Lettre de l’Océan Indien, 27 March 1982. 38. “Djibouti Re-elects President,” New York Times, 14 June 1981. 39. “Djibouti: Arrestation de treize membres du comité directeur du Parti populaire djiboutien,” Marchés Tropicaux et Méditerranéens, 11 September 1981. 40. “Course à la succession,” La Lettre de l’Océan Indien, 28 February 1984; “Entretien avec Aden Robleh Awaleh,” La Lettre de l’Océan Indien, 20 September 1986; “Tournée africaine pour Aden Robleh Awaleh,” La Lettre de l’Océan Indien, 13 December 1986. 41. “Des Issa réfugiés en Ethiopie,” La Lettre de l’Océan Indien, 13 April 1985. 42. “Vers un remaniement,” La Lettre de l’Océan Indien, 24 August 1985. 43. “Djibouti,” La Lettre de l’Océan Indien, 19 October 1985. 44. “Un entretien avec Aden Robleh Awaleh,” La Lettre de l’Océan Indien, 20 September 1986. 45. “Attentat à l’explosif,” La Lettre de l’Océan Indien, 25 January 1986. 46. “Aden Robleh Awaleh condamné à la prison à vie,” La Lettre de l’Océan Indien, 13 September 1986. 47. “Explosion Kills at Least Eight in Djibouti,” Telegraph, 19 March 1987. 48. On the party formation see “Djibouti: Création du MNDID,” La Lettre de l’Océan Indien, 21 February 1987. 49. “Inculpation,” La Lettre de l’Océan Indien, April 1987. 50. Nzongola-Ntalaja, Revolution and Counter-Revolution in Africa. 51. Mamdani and Wamba-dia-Wamba, African Studies in Social Movements; Branch and Mampilly, Africa Uprising. 52. Bratton and van de Walle, Democratic Experiments in Africa. 53. Whiteman Key, “President Mitterrand”; Alan Riding, “France Ties Africa Aid to Democracy,” New York Times, 22 June 1990. 54. Amnesty International, Mémorandum au Gouvernement de la République de Djibouti, Le droit de l’homme à Djibouti: Rapport d’une visite d’Amnesty International,16 Septembre 1991 https://www.amnesty.org/download/Documents/200000 /afr230071991fr.pdf. 55. Amnesty International, Mémorandum au Gouvernement de la République de Djibouti, Le droit de l’homme à Djibouti: Rapport d’une visite d’Amnesty International, 16 September 1991, https://www.amnesty.org/download/Documents/200000 /afr230071991fr.pdf. 56. “Coup plot in Djibouti,” New African, March 1991, p. 17; Amnesty International, “Further Information on UA 20/91 (AFR 23/01/91-21 January)—Fear of Torture,” 20 March 1992, https://www.amnesty.org/download/Documents/200000 /afr230021991en.pdf. 57. “Djibouti Plot Galore,” Africa Confidential, 25 January 1991, p. 5. 58. “Together at Last,” Africa Confidential, 9 March 1990, p. 8. 59. On the fall of the Derg, see Henze, Ethiopia in Mengistu’s Final Year, Volumes 1 and 2. On Somalia, see Ingirris, Suicidal State in Somalia. 60. FRUD was formed by combining three Afar political parties that came into existence during this period: Action pour une Révision de l’Ordre à Djibouti (AROD), Front pour la Restauration du Droit et de Légalité (FRDL), and Front de

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la Résistance Patriotique de Djibouti (FRPD). For further discussion on FRUD, see Schraeder, “Ethnic Politics in Djibouti.” 61. “Government Orders General Mobilisation in Djibouti,” Agence FrancePresse (AFP), 13 November 1991; “Mobilisation générale,” Marchés Tropicaux et Méditerranéens, 15 November 1991. 62. “‘Foreign Invasion’ Behind Fighting in Northern Djibouti: Minister,” AFP, 17 November 1991. 63. “Exiles Say More than 200 Killed in Djibouti Unrest,” Reuters, 18 December 1991. 64. APSR (APS Diplomat recorder, Arab Press Service Organisation), Reform Announcement, 21 December 1991; Christophe Farah, “Djibouti President Hints at Multi-Party System,” Reuters, 19 December 1991. 65. “Djibouti, Battling Rebellion, Asks Paris to Activate Defence Pact,” AFP, 19 November 1991. 66. “Situation préoccupant,” Marchés Tropicaux et Méditerranéens, 22 November 1991, p. 3040. 67. “Djibouti Reconsiders Its Military Ties to France,” AFP, 15 January 1992. 68. “. . . Et le droit de l’homme,” Réforme, 15–21 April 1999. 69. “Nouveau voyage de M. Vivien,” Marchés Tropicaux et Méditerranéens, 24 January 1992; “Djibouti: French Troops Stationed Here Are to Intervene in This Small Horn of Africa Country,” AFP, 23 February 1992. 70. “French Troops Move to Djibouti Battle Zone,” AFP, 25 February 1992; “Après la visite de M. Dijouh, satisfaction générale à Djibouti,” Marchés Tropicaux et Méditerranéens, 13 March 1992. 71. “Djibouti: La médiation française controversée,” Marchés Tropicaux et Méditerranéens, 17 April 1992. 72. Ibid. 73. “Le référendum constitutionnel dénoncé par l’opposition,” Marchés Tropicaux et Méditerranéens, 10 July 1992. 74. “Adoption d’une nouvelle constitution,” Marchés Tropicaux et Méditerranéens, 11 September 1992. 75. “Djibouti Politician Returns After Six Years in Exile,” Reuters, 13 September 1992. 76. “Djibouti,” Le Monde, 30 September 1992. 77. “Boycotte de l’opposition victoire du parti au pouvoir,” Marchés Tropicaux et Méditerranéens, 18 December 1992. 78. “Djibouti: Les élections législatives,” Le Monde, 22 December 1992. 79. “Djibouti: Réélection du Président Hassan Gouled,” Marchés Tropicaux et Méditerranéens, 14 May 1993. 80. “Hassan Gouled brigue un quatrième mandat,” Le Monde, 8 May 1993. Author’s translation. 81. Gilles de Stall, “La mort lente: Derrière les barreaux,” L’humanité, 21 April 1999; interview with Aman Abdulkader, Djibouti, November 2010. 82. Gilles de Stall, “La mort lente: Derrière les barreaux,” L’humanité, 21 April 1999. 83. “Rebels Accuse Eritreans of Fighting Them,” AFP, 24 September 1992. 84. “Djibouti Government to Hold Talks with Rebels,” Reuters, 4 November 1992. 85. “France to Withdraw Troops from Northern Djibouti,” AFP, 27 November 1992. 86. “France Blames Djibouti Rebels for Talks Failure,” Reuters, 27 November 1992.

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87. “Rights Groups Asked France to Aid Blocked Djiboutian Civilians,” Reuters, 29 December 1992; “Rights Group Says Fighting Erupted in Djibouti,” Reuters, 5 January 1993. 88. “Le FRUD sur la défensive,” La Lettre de l’Océan Indien, 16 January 1993. 89. Ibid. 90. “Djibouti,” Marchés Tropicaux et Méditerranéens, 26 March 1993. 91. “Djibouti,” Marchés Tropicaux et Méditerranéens, 13 May 1994. 92. “Signature d’un accord de paix et de réconciliation nationale,” Marchés Tropicaux et Méditerranéens, 30 December 1994. 93. “Les dirigeants du FRUD entrent au gouvernement,” Marchés Tropicaux et Méditerranéens, 16 June 1995; “La législation du FRUD serait le prélude à des élections anticipées,” Marchés Tropicaux et Méditerranéens, 15 March 1996; “Djibouti,” Marchés Tropicaux et Méditerranéens, 22 March 1996. 94. “Le président djiboutien Hassan Gouled victime d’une malaise le 2 décembre à Cotonou,” Marchés Tropicaux et Méditerranéens, 8 December 1995. 95. “Renvoi des ministères de la Justice et de la Défense,” Marchés Tropicaux et Méditerranéens, 5 April 1996, p. 694. 96. Ibid. 97. “Levée de l’immunité parlementaire de trois députés,” Marchés Tropicaux et Méditerranéens, 21 June 1996. 98. Ibid. 99. Ibid. 100. Ibid.; “Djibouti,” Marchés Tropicaux et Méditerranéens, 28 June 1996; “Djibouti,” Marchés Tropicaux et Méditerranéens, 6 September 1996. 101. “Arrestation d’un dirigent de l’opposition,” Marchés Tropicaux et Méditerranéens, 3 November 1995. 102. “Djibouti,” Marchés Tropicaux et Méditerranéens, 10 November 1995. 103. “Arrestations de six dirigeants de l’opposition,” Marchés Tropicaux et Méditerranéens, 6 June 1997. 104. Ibid. 105. “L’existence d’une plateforme politique commune du gouvernement,” Marchés Tropicaux et Méditerranéens, 25 April 1997. 106. “Législative: Le RPP et ses alliés remportent la totalité des sièges,” Marchés Tropicaux et Méditerranéens, 26 December 1997. 107. Ali Ahmed Houmed, who was imprisoned with them and who suffered from asthma and diabetes, had been released earlier, at the end of December. 108. “Djibouti,” Marchés Tropicaux et Méditerranéens, 17 January 1997. 109. Gregory, “French Military in Africa.” 110. “Relance de la coopération franco-djiboutienne,” Marchés Tropicaux et Méditerranéens, 29 January 1999. 111. “Djibouti,” Marchés Tropicaux et Méditerranéens, 12 March 1999. 112. Levitsky and Way, “Election Without Democracy.” 113. Chabal and Daloz, Africa Works.

4 A Breath of Fresh Air? President Ismail Omar Guelleh’s First Term

ON 4 FEBRUARY 1999, APTIDON—WHO BY THEN WAS REFERRED

to as “the last of Africa’s dinosaurs”1 due to his old age and his longterm hold on power—announced that he was stepping down. He sent this announcement in a communication to the RPP party congress that he was not able to attend due to bronchitis. He described his decision as “the defining moment in a walk across a bridge that will connect Djibouti with the twenty-first century.”2 In his message, Aptidon also stated that “my heart is full of pride in contemplating my reconciled nation, its memory reconstituted and its history freed of resentments.”3 For the population of Djibouti and for Djiboutians in exile, his announcement occasioned both relief and excitement. It was a relief because it had been expected for more than a decade, every time there was an election. It caused excitement, as well as hope and anxiety, because it was not clear who would succeed him. Every time the question was asked, it reflected hope for a new beginning filled with freedom. This new hope was expressed in Aptidon’s own words: it was a definite step, a bridge, a renewed opportunity for a rosy future. This hope was invariably accompanied by doubts about the succession. Before Ismail Guedi Hared’s fall from grace, both unsubstantiated rumor and sober analysis asserted that he would be the next president of the country. After his fall, political analysts and ordinary people alike turned their gaze to the person who replaced him as the head of the presidential cabinet, Ismail Omar Guelleh, who had come to be considered more or less the crown prince. This prediction came true on the same day that Aptidon’s retirement was announced. Guelleh, the nephew of the outgoing president who had served as cabinet chief and 61

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third vice president, was announced as the ruling party’s candidate for the presidential election scheduled for April 1999.4 To the hopeful people of Djibouti, Guelleh described Aptidon as “a leader who proved wrong the prophets of doom who predicted Djibouti as a state would not last more than six months after independence”5 and as someone who had taught him the art of politics: “If I am in this juncture of my political career it is thanks to God and President Aptidon, who tutored me in the realm of leadership.”6 In becoming the candidate, what Guelleh promised was nothing short of a complete transformation of Djibouti and its society. He promised to bring a “new breath of life” to Djibouti, which would lead to development and progress. The city of Djibouti was adorned with posters of a smiling Guelleh and the key message: “Injecting a new breath of life.”7 His promise was also included in his campaign speech: “I am not trying to woo you because I am a candidate, but I think we can bring together our ideas so that we can build up a new society.”8 Guelleh was to breathe new life into Djibouti, which the eighty-three-year-old lungs of Aptidon, ravaged by pneumonia, were not able to accomplish. Although the message was a bit different, the vision to which he alluded to was nothing new. It was a romantic vision of a new beginning that was promised to Djiboutians at the threshold of independence and again during the 1990s, when the romantic vision of restoring the aborted independence through a second independence via democracy was in vogue. In being nominated as an RPP candidate, Guelleh was to run against Moussa Ahmed Idriss, a sixty-six-year-old Issa Somali from the subclan of Horone, who had been a member of the RPP but resigned after Guelleh’s nomination. Claiming that he had resigned because he realized that the RPP did not want to modernize the political life of the country, Idriss was presented as an independent candidate but was eventually backed by the PND, the PRD, and the dissident wings of FRUD.9 Despite the fact that Idris enjoyed little popularity, the regime, in anticipation of the coming election, went right to work suppressing and imprisoning candidates from the opposition who were believed to have greater potential. One such candidate was Aref Mohamed Aref, an Afar who was the nephew of Ali Aref (the Afar president of Djibouti before the start of the decolonization process) and the only human-rights lawyer in the country; he had been repeatedly imprisoned for severely criticizing the government.10 Beyond the imprisonment of Aref, the general human-rights conditions and the political atmosphere left no doubt that the old practices of the government had not improved. At the time of this election, Djibout-

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ian politics were scarcely characterized by reconciliation and unity, as Aptidon had hinted in his statement to the party congress. Djibouti was a house divided, from which many had been forced to leave as refugees for France and Belgium. Despite the situation, the opposition parties did their best to influence the outcome of the electoral process and the political condition of the country. In the last week of March, nine political exiles in Paris and fifteen in Brussels, together with political prisoners in Gabod prison, started a hunger strike that sought to spotlight the situation in Djibouti. The exiled politicians, who organized themselves into the Committee in Europe for the Defense of Political Prisoners (CODEPP), demanded the release of all political prisoners and vowed to continue their hunger strike until all forty-three political prisoners in Gabod were released by the government. The president of CODEPP stressed the urgency of the task because two of them, Abdi Houffaneh Liban and Mohamed Ahmed Ibrahim, had already died in Gabod as a result of lack of medical attention.11 A letter of complaint was also sent to the French foreign minister, Hubert Vérdine, by the International Women’s League for Peace and Freedom, asking the French government to exert the necessary influence on the Djibouti government.12 In the run-up to the election, the opposition, and particularly Idriss, vowed to reform the political situation and to release all political prisoners who were incarcerated in Gabod. They did the usual campaigning in various cities and put out a brave statement saying that they were confident about winning because 80 percent of Djiboutians were with them. They declared that “if the election is transparent, people will have hope for the future.”13 In practice, this proved difficult to realize. The opposition complained of unfair treatment from the government administration.14 Idriss cited cases where his team was thrown out of government buildings by police. The opposition also complained that they could not examine the electoral lists because the government had not released them. They also could obtain no information on who was manning the 200 voting stations. The result of the election that was supposed to bring Djibouti into the twenty-first century did not disappoint the regime, but it disappointed many in the opposition. Conducted under heavy police supervision, which the government said was necessary to control the eruption of violence, the voting process entailed putting one’s ballot into a green box for Guelleh and a white box for Idriss.15 This exercise, in which 171,000 people registered to vote and which saw an overall turnout of 60 percent in the entire country and 56 percent in the capital city, was

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marred by complaints. Idriss and his supporters claimed that they were banned from placing their own observers in seven voting stations by the government, who declared that these areas were war zones.16 They also complained that registered voters were denied ballots in places where Idriss was expected to win heavily.17 The government radio announced that the ruling party (RPP) candidate had won with 74.09 percent of the vote, while Idriss received only 25.78 percent.18 The result was contested by Idriss and his team, who claimed that the election occurred in conditions of a “veritable masquerade.”19 Meanwhile, the government portrayed the situation positively by pointing to the election as the latest example of how democratic postcolonial Djibouti had become. The outgoing president, Aptidon, affirmed this view in an interview that he gave shortly after Guelleh’s victory. He characterized the existing presidentialism as a form of homegrown democracy and insisted that the allegations of human-rights abuse by the opposition and human-rights organizations were false, and that only the communication skills of the opposition made them seem real. He claimed further that the opposition was illegal.20 The April 1999 election exhibited features that make it similar to previous elections in Djibouti. There is also a clear parallel between the case of Djibouti and the cases of other African countries who engaged in the exercise of democracy in what was purportedly the continent’s “second liberation.” The April 1999 election was another example of what Chabal and Daloz21 call “elite recycling,” in which the country’s elites keep on competing for political positions, either as ruling-party candidates or in opposition. Even if Idriss had won, the structural issues that make Djibouti similar to other African countries would have been the same. Putting aside the issues of electoral fairness, the voters were still choosing between the recirculated political elites of the country. Similarities with past elections and with the experience of other African countries can also be seen in the election process itself. Officially, the international observers who were invited into the country gave the process their seal of approval, even though their total number (twenty) was insufficient to observe the more than 200 voting stations, particularly those outside the capital city. In the April 1999 election, authoritarianism donned the garb of democracy. As the work of Michael Bratton and Nicolas van de Walle indicates, this has been the hallmark of African states where the elite have succumbed to the call for democratization that followed in the wake of the protests and civil wars that engulfed Africa in the late

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1980s and early 1990s.22 The election was a legitimization of a longpredicted outcome. If the resignation of Aptidon was an attempt to create a bridge, it was a bridge that would ensure that power remained in the hands of the ruling elite, and by extension ensure the supremacy of the Issa over the Afar. As mentioned earlier, this is a homegrown form of the division of power that Aptidon welcomed.23 It has been the tendency of many studies of political transition in Africa to attribute political difficulties solely to internal factors. As Eghosa Osaghae and Chris Allen affirm,24 one cannot analyze these events without looking at the continuing legacy of colonialism and the effects of other external factors. In order not to succumb to this kind of reductionist explanation, we need to ask how external factors contributed to the outcome of this election. In Djibouti in the 1990s, the continued role of its former colonizer, France, and other external factors were important. In the latter category, the emergence of a war between Ethiopia and Eritrea shortly before the election was a major influence. Although there were doubts regarding the smooth continuation of relations between France and Djibouti during the presidency of Guelleh, this expectation was quickly proved wrong. Everyone was assured that Guelleh’s accession would not affect the status of France in strategically located Djibouti. The Ethiopia-Eritrea war that started in May 1998 was one factor that guaranteed continued French influence in Djibouti. When the war began, Ethiopian access to the Eritrean port of Assab and Massawa was effectively terminated. For landlocked Ethiopia, the port of Djibouti became the only opening for import and export. The government of Djibouti quickly moved to take advantage of the situation even though it was risky, as it exposed the tiny country to possible military assault from Eritrea, which had an interest in stopping arms imports to Ethiopia through the port of Djibouti. It was particularly feared that the Eritreans would bombard the port using the MiG jets they had acquired from Russia. This fear was augmented by the increasing antagonism that Eritrea showed to Djibouti and the breakdown of diplomatic relations between the two countries after the president of Eritrea, Issaias Afewerki, accused Djibouti of supporting Ethiopia.25 This regional situation, which threatened the existence of the Djiboutian regime, contributed to the continuation of the symbiotic relationship between Djibouti and France. Lacking the necessary military power to avert the onslaught from Eritrea, as well as the capacity to prevent the war from spilling over into Djibouti, the government once again sought the active intervention of France.

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There could be no doubt that supporting Djibouti was in France’s interest. The country contained one of France’s most important overseas military bases, which was not significantly affected by the postRwanda and post-Congo reductions of French troops in Africa. France had a strong interest in defending the territory and, by extension, the rule of the RPP. To this end, in February 1999 the French sent a 3,900ton antiaircraft frigate, the Jean-Bart (which was equipped with DRBV-26 radar that could spot the arrival of an airplane from 360 kilometers), and forty supersonic Tartar antiaircraft missiles with a range of 50 kilometers to Djibouti. 26 The French also made their fighter jet ready to launch within seven minutes in case of an attack by the Eritreans.27 The involvement of the French was repeatedly guaranteed by both Aptidon and Guelleh. In an interview that Aptidon gave to the French newspaper Le Figaro, he asserted the continued role that France would play: “I will retire in the southeast of your capital (Paris). I will, however, keep an eye on Djibouti, and if the interest of France is threatened, I will intervene.”28 The same pro-France stance was echoed in Guellah’s interview with Jeune Afrique.29 France’s response to Guellah’s election demonstrates the continued support that the regime was receiving from its former colonizer. France did not congratulate Guelleh in words alone. As soon as the result of the election was announced on Radio Djibouti, three French F1 jets flew over Guelleh’s residence and put on an air show. The French president at the time, François Mitterrand, described the display as a “gesture of friendship for saluting the new president.”30 In many Francophone countries in Africa, internal dynamics set by the ruling elite, combined with regional factors and the interests of France, have sustained undemocratic regimes that have nevertheless conducted regular elections: Cameroon, where Paul Biya has been in power for the last thirty years; Togo, which has been ruled by the Eyadéma family since 1967; Gabon, which is dominated by Omar Bongo and family; and Burkina Faso, where the murder of Thomas Sankara ushered in the twenty-year rule of the pro-French Blaise Compaoré, are clear examples. In Djibouti and elsewhere in Africa, the combination of internal and external factors that bolstered the elites’ hold on power has eclipsed the romance of the state, and particularly the belief in the transformative capacity of representational politics that came with colonial political modernity.

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Amid Bombs and Imprisonments: Djibouti in the Post–April 1999 Election Although he was elected in April and hailed by the French, the announcement of Guelleh as president was not immediately confirmed by the constitutional council, as he was to take power formally in an inaugural ceremony scheduled for 7 May 1999. Within weeks of the announcement of Guelleh’s victory but before the formal handover of power, the military wing of FRUD, led by Ahmed Dini, made its dissatisfaction clear through a bomb attack. In mid-April seven soldiers were killed and four others were injured by a land mine planted in the town of Boli in the district of Tadjoura.31 In the same week, an explosion killed a woman and injured a driver at Ripta in the same district.32 Later that month, another land mine planted by FRUD killed four soldiers and injured another six in the Medeho region, 250 kilometers from the city of Djibouti.33 On 7 May 1999, Guelleh was formally inaugurated as the second president of Djibouti in a ceremony attended by regional leaders such as Meles Zenawi of Ethiopia and Omar al-Bashir of Sudan.34 However, the trouble in the northern region of Djibouti showed no signs of abating. The day before the inauguration, a land mine at Adailou in the district of Tadjoura claimed the lives of two girls who were approximately twelve years old.35 Two months later, eight government soldiers were killed when a government helicopter crashed near Adailou—an event which the government attributed to technical failure despite FRUD’s claim of responsibility for the incident.36 In September, the same region of Adailou saw the deaths of three civilians in a land mine explosion, which the interior ministry referred to as “criminal acts.”37 The government response to the chaos that cost more than twenty lives over the five months immediately after the election was mixed. Following the inauguration ceremony, one of the first acts of the government was to try to settle political tensions by releasing the political prisoners who had been on hunger strike. In May, the government released forty prisoners, one of whom was Aref Mohamed Aref, the man who had been imprisoned shortly before the start of the election campaign.38 By releasing him, the government hoped to put an end to the criticism of human-rights organizations and other activists who were campaigning for his release. The government’s next move was to appoint former members of FRUD to key government positions. Barakat Gourad Hamadou was asked to remain in the position of prime minister and to organize a new cabinet. The cabinet that Hamadou formed was largely unchanged from

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the previous one with the exception of two positions, minister of defense and foreign minister.39 The Ministry of Foreign Affairs came to be headed by Ali Abdi Farah from RPP, but the Defense Ministry was given to Ougoureh Kifleh Ahmed, the former secretary general of the splinter FRUD.40 In August, the government detained the former army chief of staff General Ali Meidal Wais, who by then was the editor in chief of a monthly opposition journal, Le Temps, and Daher Ahmed Farah, the editor in chief of the newspaper Renouveau.41 The two were accused of violating the press laws of Djibouti and of demoralizing the army as a result of an article that they published. The article, which related to the government helicopter that crashed near Adailou, asserted that, contrary to the government’s claim, the helicopter was downed by the rebel army. It also claimed that the morale of the government army fighting with FRUD was at its lowest. For making these statements, Farah was fined 1 million Djibouti francs (US$32,000) in September 1999 and sentenced to one year in prison.42 In the same month, Wais was sentenced to eight months in prison and was also asked to pay a fine of 1 million Djibouti francs.43 Also in September, Moussa Ahmed Idriss, the only opponent in the election, was dragged into the affair. Since the election Idriss had become the rallying figure of the opposition and served as the head of the Opposition Djiboutienne Unifiée. He and Ali Meidal Wais coedited Le Temps. As they had done with Wais, the government accused Idriss of demoralizing the army. His membership in the Djiboutian parliament gave him immunity from arrest, but the government lifted his immunity on 16 September 1999 through the parliament.44 Naturally, this created a tense situation. Idriss and his supporters, as a sign of opposition, fortified his house and turned it into an opposition bastion, where they met twice a week while more than forty people stood guard.45 When the government finally made a move to arrest Idriss on 23 September 1999, the attempt resulted in a scuffle that led to the death of Ismail Issouf, a distant relative of Idriss, and to the injury of several people, including Idriss’s wife, who was hit in the leg by a bullet.46 In October, Idriss and nineteen other people who participated in the scuffle were sentenced to four months in prison for “rebellion and acts of violence.”47 Still, the government knew that these were temporary measures that could not solve the situation. Shortly after his inauguration, Guelleh firmly asserted that he would not be negotiating with the opposition, particularly the army wing of FRUD.48 In an interview with Jeune

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Afrique, he also stated that solutions for political problems should not be obtained through a deal that would allow the opposition to have a share of the government through the distribution of ministerial positions.49 As discussed earlier, the government followed this practice in its dealings with the moderate wing of FRUD, resulting in the appointment of Ougoureh Kifleh Ahmed as the defense minister. However, this stance could not be maintained in the regional context in which the government was operating, and in the end the government had to enter into negotiations with the radical wing of FRUD. A major reason for this reversal was the increasing tension between Asmara and Djibouti, which created a fear of aerial attack. As time passed, this fear of the Eritrean air force and their newly acquired Russian-made MiG, which was effectively contained by the French radar installation, changed completely. The Djiboutian government asserted that the Eritrean government was now supporting the military wing of FRUD and thus was engaged in a proxy battle with Ethiopia in Djiboutian territory. The situation with Eritrea took a dramatic turn in July 1999 when Djibouti closed its border with Eritrea after an attack in the Doha region of Djibouti by what the Djiboutian official described as a terrorist group operating from the region of Assab. The affair was readily dismissed as an Ethiopia-backed propaganda campaign to vilify Eritrea.50 But the escalating situations were taken seriously. The French deployed their soldiers along the border and engaged in continuous monitoring.51 The chief of staff of the French army, General Jean-Pierre Kelche, warned neighboring countries that France was ready to defend the territorial integrity of Djibouti to keep it from being used as a ground for a proxy war.52 The Ethiopian military forces also helped the Djiboutian government by rounding up dissidents53 and by sending attack helicopters into the northern region of Djibouti where FRUD was operating—an affair that started covertly in October 1999 after an Ethiopian convoy near the border area was attacked by FRUD.54 In November 1999 the situation along the border was so severe that Guelleh asserted that the two nations were “almost in a state of war.”55 By February 2000, the increased pressure on FRUD and the Djiboutian government’s desire to minimize tensions with Eritrea brought FRUD and the government to an agreement. On 7 February 2000, the government, represented by Guelleh’s cabinet chief Ali Guelleh Aboubeker, and FRUD’s president, Ahmed Dini, signed a peace accord in Paris.56 Called a “historic event” by Ahmed Dini, the seven articles of the accord called for the cessation of hostilities, the release of prisoners, and the implementation of processes intended to facilitate the

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democratization process, such as decentralization and the rehabilitation of areas affected by war.57 A week later, as stipulated in the accord, prisoners were released. FRUD released three from its northern base, and they went to the capital.58 On the same day the government released twenty-eight FRUD members who were ethnic Afar. This included some of the top leadership of FRUD, notably Mohamed Kadamy and Ali Maki, who had previously been extradited from Ethiopia and imprisoned in Gabod prison.59 A day after the release of the ethnic Afar FRUD members, the government also released the ten ethnic Issa Somalis who had operated in the southern region of Arta as part of “FRUD’s southern wing” back in 1998 and were arrested when they were found to be in possession of arms.60 These prisoners, who had not been tried since their incarceration in 1998, were actually released at this time, as the FRUD members of Afar background who the government was willing to release immediately as part of their deal refused to leave the prison unless the political prisoners of Issa background were also freed. In order to legitimize their release, the government took them to court and had them sentenced to one and a half years in prison—a decision that immediately set them free, as they had already served much longer than that.61 Following the release of the prisoners, Ahmed Dini returned to Djibouti in March 2000. His return, which ended his nine years of exile, was regarded as a symbolic event. In addition to the thousands of his supporters who came to the airport, Ahmed Dini was greeted by the interior minister, Abdallah Abdillahi Miguil, and by the cabinet chief, Ali Guelleh Aboubeker, who had been a member of the moderate wing of FRUD when it had an accord with the government back in 1994.62 Except for an attempted coup d’état that lasted only a few hours, organized by Djibouti’s chief of police General Yasin Yabeh Galab after his dismissal from his job,63 the return of Ahmed Dini signaled a new hope for Djiboutians. With much pomp and circumstance the government and FRUD signed a definitive peace accord on 12 May 2001. The agreement, which was signed by Ahmed Dini and Interior Minister Abdallah Abdillahi Miguil in the presence of Guelleh, marked the high point of negotiations that had lasted for fifteen months. Hailed as “satisfying, with only winners and no losing party,” the accord effectively brought to an end the civil war that Guelleh called a “sad chapter of Djibouti’s history.”64 It stipulated the implementation of a decentralized form of government; the disarmament and demobilization of FRUD’s army and their compensation or integration into the regular army depending on their age and inclination; and most importantly, the improvement

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of the democratic system by allowing the operation of more than two parties and guarantying the free operation of FRUD in an upcoming legislative election that was scheduled for September 2002.65 In June, more than a thousand members of the rebel army handed over their weapons at the towns of Ritba in Tadjoura and Waddi in Obock.66 The radical groups of FRUD were given two ministerial positions following a cabinet reshuffle in July 2001. Ismail Ibrahim Houmed was named minister of justice and youth, and Obtan Gota was made minister of leisure and tourism.67 By February 2002 the process of transforming the radical FRUD came full circle when it became a political party. Calling itself the United Republican Front for the Restoration of Unity and Democracy—FRUD-National for short—the new party planned to publish a new paper, Reality, and engage in peaceful struggle.68 The milestone transformation of FRUD into a political party was a big achievement that raised the hopes of many. Nevertheless, the illusion of a rosy future in which the state of Djibouti would finally become an abode of freedom and equality remained difficult to realize, as various stipulations of the peace accord were not implemented. Signs of trouble appeared almost immediately after FRUD became a party. These signs accurately foreshadowed the misfortune that unfolded in the 2003 legislative election and the 2005 presidential election—events that were expected to finally transition the country into democracy.

The First Fruits of Tragedy: Full Multiparty System and the 2003 Legislative Election The period immediately following the transformation of the radical wing of FRUD into a party witnessed an event that showed that the signed peace accord was already encountering problems. In April 2002, almost two months after the formation of FRUD-National, some 100 demobilized soldiers of the FRUD army held a demonstration in the capital complaining of delays in the payment of their wages. They also complained about their inability to integrate into society because the government did not do enough to help them.69 The former soldiers also attempted to march toward the presidential palace and tried to bypass a police roadblock set up to stop them. The demonstration ended in a violent clash with the police, who fired shots and tear gas, and resulted in one death and many injuries.

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In responding to the protest, the government focused on the difficulty of obtaining the necessary funds in time. In an interview with Jeune Afrique in June 2002, Guelleh asserted that the problem was not the government’s unwillingness, but the fact that the donor had not released the funds.70 He noted that the government, together with the UN and Coopération Française, had already undertaken a program for the reconstruction of roads, schools, and other infrastructure. He pointed out that it was also necessary to provide a means of livelihood for the population affected by war, a project that he viewed as the second phase of his rehabilitation program. Guelleh stated that the government had had trouble implementing the program because certain donors had failed to fulfill their pledges; for example, the French had pledged 800,000 euros but had not delivered.71 He also complained that, despite the fact that Djibouti had signed the Cotonou agreement that was supposed to ease the flow of funding by reducing bureaucratic hurdles, it was still difficult to deal with the European Union bureaucracy, which was slow and issued unintelligible statements such as, “Your capacity to absorb disbursements, as per the criteria of the organizations, is limited.”72 Guelleh stated that this was mysterious language that his government could not decipher. The government explanation of things did not seem to convince some of the former members of the FRUD leadership, and the population in general remained skeptical about the possibility of ever obtaining the much-desired peace and democracy. This mistrust of the government was made clear in July, when some members of FRUD announced their intention of resuming the war after a month. The group, which contained Mohamed Kadamy among others, proclaimed their intention from Brussels after conducting what they called an emergency congress meeting that involved the participation of FRUD members in Europe and North America. They declared that Guelleh “did not abide by his pledges and was not earnest in implementing the agreements and that he instead aimed at bringing his government out of the economic crisis that occurred after the European Union insisted that they will not give aid to Djibouti except on condition of resuming talks with the opposition and ending the political crisis.”73 Despite this declaration, which signaled the split of FRUD for the third time, the situation did not deteriorate dramatically. The government and FRUD, led by Ahmed Dini and based in Djibouti, continued to follow the accord. In September 2002, the government announced the end of the 1992 rule that only four political parties could compete in an election—a move that signaled the beginning of a full multiparty system.74 Declaring that “citizens should not lose sight of the founding values of the consti-

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tution, which are tolerance and respect,” Guelleh asserted the need “to avoid all actions which could distance them from the principles of the constitution or lead the country to tribalism, demagogy, violence, and disrespect for the law.”75 Despite the colonial roots of political modernity, in which political representation is regarded as a desirable element, participation in a full multiparty system was characterized as partaking in a new civilization that was moving away from tribalism—which the elite had been affirming was the enemy of the nation since 1977. Guelleh himself identified it as a problem during his bid for the presidency back in 1999 by stating that his “tribe is Djibouti”—meaning that his allegiance is not to the Issa, the tribe to which he belonged, but to the nation.76 In order to participate in this new act of civilization, numerous political parties registered themselves.77 Ahmed Dimi and his FRUD allies in Djibouti formed the Alliance Républicaine pour le Développement (ARD). Ismail Guedi Hared, Aptidon’s former cabinet chief who fell from grace in 1996, formed the Union pour la Démocratie et la Justice (UDJ). Another colleague of Ismail Guedi Hared, Moumin Bahdon Farah, who like Guedi fell from favor and was demoted and imprisoned in 1996, formed the Parti Populaire Social-Démocrate (PPSD). Another political personality, Mohamed Daoud Chehem, who was part of FRUD, formed the Parti Djiboutien pour le Développement (PDD). In addition to the formation of new parties, the RPP and its opposition also formed alliances in order to improve their chances in the muchanticipated December 2002 legislative election. Two blocs emerged in this process: the Union pour la Majorité Présidentielle (UMP) and the Union pour l’Alternance Démocratique (UAD). The UMP was composed of the RPP, the FRUD-94, the PND of Aden Robleh Awaleh, and the PPSD of Moumin Bahdon Farah; this coalition supported the continued dominance of the RPP.78 The UAD, led by Ahmed Dini, was formed by the alliance of the ARD, the UDJ, the Mouvement pour le Renouveau Démocratique et le Développement (MRD) of Daher Ahmed Farah, and the PDD of Mohamed Daoud Chehem.79 The election in which these political parties were to contest was not conducted at the scheduled time. It was postponed to January 2003 because the original date fell within the Islamic holy month of Ramadan.80 It was also deemed necessary to move the election to January to give the parties, which had just formed and were still consolidating themselves, enough time to adequately prepare for the election. The preelection period was not entirely smooth. The UMP fomented a tense atmosphere. Rather than conducting a positive campaign that presented alternative ideas, the UMP followed a negative strategy that

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targeted Ahmed Dini, the leader of the opposition coalition. His former FRUD colleagues who joined the government in 1994 and who were now in the UMP coalition portrayed him as a “perpetual loser who has achieved nothing despite being in politics for fifty years.”81 The UMP camp also portrayed Ahmed Dini as a killer who murdered innocent civilians by planting land mines and engaging civilians in a futile war.82 The negative atmosphere was further tainted when Ahmed Dini declared that the “opposition have the people without the cards, [while] the government has the cards without the people,” in order to point out the electoral irregularities that he said he had observed.83 In an announcement shortly before the day of the election, Ahmed Dini stated that the government had kept the electoral list secret and ballots were being prepared in a disorganized manner. He also asserted that the government had printed more cards but was deliberately refraining from distributing them.84 This accusation was rejected by Guelleh, who insisted that the government had done its best to organize the election, which represented “a test on what [the government] has done and on the hopes that we are raising.”85 Despite the worries expressed by the opposition, the election day initially showed signs of hope and change. In the early results, the opposition coalition was reported to be in the lead at 55 percent, with the ruling coalition at 45 percent—a result that prompted the opposition spokesperson to say that the ruling party was facing a huge surprise.86 This enthusiasm quickly evaporated when the final tally was announced by the Ministry of Interior. It was declared that the UMP won 62.7 percent of the vote while the opposition UAD obtained only 37.3 percent.87 Because under Djibouti electoral law the winning party gets all the seats, the opposition was left with no representation. After the announcement, the opposition claimed that the election had been unfair.88 Although according to the officially announced results the UMP won all five constituencies in which elections were organized, the opposition stated that this claim revealed the extent of the irregularities, because the ruling coalition was claiming victory even in the constituency of Tadjoura, which was one of the main regions where the war with FRUD was waged and a place where the ruling party had little support. The opposition claimed that out of the total of twenty-seven polling stations in this FRUD stronghold, twenty-four had been won by them.89 Calling for calm and nonviolence, Ahmed Dini announced that he would be contesting the election through legal channels, by appealing to the national council of Djibouti that ratifies election results.90 He also called for supporters of the opposition to gather for a peaceful demon-

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stration. The government followed two strategies to deal with the situation. First, the Ministry of Interior automatically banned the demonstration, citing as a reason the possibility of disruption of public order. This forced Ahmed Dini to disperse the 150 opposition supporters who gathered in front of his office on the day that the demonstration was called.91 The second strategy was to say that the members of the opposition were bad losers. Stating that “in Africa, rare are the losers who admit they have lost,” Guelleh said that that the opposition should concede defeat.92 The views of international observers from the Arab League and the Organisation Internationale de la Francophonie (OIF) coincided more with the opposition claims than with the ruling party. Reading closely, we see that the problem was not that the opposition was not willing to concede, but that the government engaged in tactics that were meant to create problems for the opposition. Of the two observers, the report of the OIF mission was the most damaging and critical.93 In fact, the press conference that they gave on 12 January 2013 was censored by the governmentowned television and was only transmitted in full after the OIF protested.94 In congruence with the claims of the opposition, the OIF mission confirmed that on election day there was a discrepancy between the electoral list and the electoral body. They also identified problems in the distribution and management of ballots. The OIF team stated that they saw huge numbers of ballots in government offices and that there was confusion as to how they should be distributed and who was responsible for the distribution. They also stated that some ballots remained at the district level and in voting bureaus. In some cases, ballots were even distributed outside the voting booths, citing the specific example of voting booth 137 at Ouéa. As promised, the opposition filed an appeal with the constitutional council asking for the election results to be annulled and submitted documents that they said contained proof of massive fraud. The demand of the opposition was overruled and the election results were sustained. 95 In this much-anticipated election, which cost US$1 million and half of which was funded by the United States,96 the opposition ended up with no seats in the parliament and therefore no formal say in the country’s affairs. In the opposition camp, this situation triggered the usual move of trying to influence the regime by lobbying in France. Ahmed Dini flew to Paris for this purpose, and in the name of his party wrote a letter to Jacques Legendre and Monique Paulit, secretary general of the Assemblée Parlementaire de la Francophonie (APF) and secretary general of the Association des Cours Constitutionnelles Partageant l’Usage du Français (ACCPUF), respectively.97

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Dini asked that Djibouti’s membership in the APF be suspended and that the ACCPUF take official measures, as the action of the constitutional council of Djibouti contradicted the ACCPUF statutes, particularly its goal of encouraging the deeper rule of law, as stated in article 3 of the statutes of the association that were adopted in April 1997.98 This action by the opposition did not seem to change the opposition’s confrontation with the government. In April 2003, General Zakaria Cheikh Ibrahim, chief of staff of the Djibouti army, accused Daher Ahmed Farah, whose party was part of the opposition conflict, of defamation.99 The Djiboutian appeals court sentenced Farah to nine months in prison and fined him 70,000 euro—a decision that led him to move to Europe.100 Generally, what was seen in the post–peace accord period was the repetition of the “older” forms of politics, which had become a common pattern. The 2003 legislative election repeated this pattern. The usual recycling of the elite took place. For this election, Aden Robleh Awaleh, who had been an ardent opponent of the RPP following his removal from office on suspicion of wanting to replace Aptidon, switched back into the ruling party coalition, the UMP, led by his old friend/enemy. The same thing happened with Moumin Bahdon Farah, who fell from grace in the RPP party purge in 1996 and ended up in the opposition—an act that sent him to prison. By 2002, however, all seemed to have been forgiven as he campaigned for the UMP. FRUD saw a few examples of its own. The FRUD members who became part of the UMP and who criticized Ahmed Dini for being in politics for fifty years without achieving anything were also the old guard who did not hesitate to switch sides. This pattern continued in the years that followed.

What Maintained the Regime in Power Beyond the Internal Factors? In Djibouti, popular perception attributed the switching of elites from one side to the other to self-interest. This kind of assertion is particularly used to explain the incorporation of FRUD members into the UMP. There is no concrete evidence to support this perception, which is shared by many Djiboutians, but the assertion reflects a common trend in Horn of Africa politics. Alex de Waal explains it as a political marketplace in which alliances are forged, opposition members switch sides, and delicate negotiations between rebels and governments are lubricated.101

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Seen from this perspective, Djibouti politics in the postcolonial period have not been conducted by politicians who are morally committed to an ideological stance. The romance of the state continues to be an illusion; its realization is thwarted by the elites, the legacy of colonialism, the logics of the state (which is always exclusionary), and the international environment that has contributed to maintaining the ruling elite in power. Rather than leading to a real independence, the postcolonial state of Djibouti continues to serve the interests of the elite. In addition to pursuing their narrow self-interest, such elites assure the smooth operation of capital and the safeguarding of foreign interests. In an interview with Jeune Afrique, Guelleh was under no illusion that the political tragedy of Djibouti was the result of internal factors. When the journalist commented that “we always hear that in Djibouti the Issa are dominant and the Afar are discriminated against,” Guelleh responded as follows: It is an old consequence of colonialism. After first privileging the Issa to the detriment of the Afar, the French, at the beginning of the 1960s, reversed this imbalance by now favoring the latter. Once independence was achieved, the Issa, who spearheaded the anticolonial struggle, reclaimed their place. A civil war ensued. Today everyone has found his place. I have made sure that every appointment that is made in the civil service is done competitively. It is a balancing act that requires consistent vigilance, and I engage in this on a daily basis.102

Guelleh was correct about the legacy of colonialism. However, his answer fell short of identifying all the factors. The postcolonial political situation of Djibouti has been marked by presidentialism and political maneuvering. Career politicians animate the political situation and are perpetually in “antagonism” with the state. When they cannot acquire power, they remain in an asymmetrical relation with the position of power that is the presidency. He also failed to reference the continued influence of the former colonial power, France, and other global powers that play important roles in providing military and diplomatic support. The portrayal of the role of France as passé—a legacy of influence that belongs only to the past—is at odds with this juncture of Djibouti’s history, given that the interlinkages between France and Djibouti have become even more visible. The key event in unraveling the relationship between France and Djibouti occurred shortly after Guelleh came to power, namely the death of Bernard Borrel, a French magistrate who came to Djibouti to

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help the Ministry of Justice in its efforts to adopt the French legal system.103 Borrel died in mysterious circumstances on 19 October 1995, and his car and burned body were found 60 kilometers outside Djibouti in the area of Goubbet. In an interview with Le Figaro on 11 January 2000 and with the journal Parisien on 12 January 2000, Mohamed Saleh Alhoumekani stated that on 19 October 1995, in the late afternoon, he overheard a conversation between Guelleh and five other people104 who came to the palace, saying among other things that “the stinking judge is dead” (le juge fouineur est mort).105 This revelation sent a shock wave through both Djibouti and France. At the request of Borrel’s widow, Paris opened an inquest on the case.106 On 31 January 2000, two French judges, Roger Le Loir and Marie-Paule Moracchini, went to Brussels, where Alhoumekani had requested asylum, to hear directly from him about the information published in the French journals.107 In March 2000, a team consisting of two judges and the Paris prosecutor, Jean-Claude Dauvel, headed to Djibouti on a fact-finding mission. Shortly thereafter, in April 2000, they asserted that Bernard Borrel committed suicide.108 This assertion by the fact-finding mission did not close the case, and the Borrel family campaigned to establish a finding of assassination.109 In April 2003, Alhoumekani was tried in absentia in Djibouti. The trial followed a complaint of defamation that was made by the head of the Djibouti security service, Hassan Said Khaireh, and the eta major of the gendarmerie, Ahmed Mahadi Cheikh—two high-ranking figures whom Alhoumekani had mentioned as being part of the conversation that he overheard in the grounds of the presidential palace.110 In May, Alhoumekani was found guilty. He was sentenced to one year in prison and ordered to pay 1 million Djibouti francs (US$5,500).111 More importantly, in August 2004 the French intelligence service, the Direction Générale de la Sécurité Extérieure (DGSE), acting on a decision made by the French minister of defense, Michèle Alliot-Marie, transmitted a document to the investigating judge, Sophie Clément, who was working on the Borrel case.112 One of the documents in the case contained the notes that the DGSE took following the death of Borrel; its transmission to the investigating judge had enraged the Commission Consultative du Secret de la Défense Nationale (CCSDN), the French body that oversees secret documents relating to defense.113 It was reported that it contained numerous testimonies indicating that Judge Borrel was killed on the orders of Djibouti authorities after Borrel discovered evidence that linked Guelleh to the 1990 bombing

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of the Café de Paris in which a six-year-old French child died and fourteen people were injured.114 This explosive new revelation became the subject of a documentary by the French television channel TF1. It also prompted the attorney general of Djibouti, Djama Souleiman, to ask Paris to send him the document.115 The judge who was looking at the Borrel case also asked Guelleh to present himself at Versailles to explain his case. This situation created a tense relationship between Paris and Djibouti. It escalated further in April 2004, when Djibouti officials accused France of attempting to destabilize Djibouti.116 The Djibouti cabinet even accused France of plotting against the sovereignty of Djibouti.117 Nonetheless, this war of words—and the battle brought to the Djiboutian government’s doorstep by Alhoumekani and Borrel’s widow while the Djiboutian government maintained the theory of suicide—did not affect France’s relationship with Djibouti. This lack of reaction frustrated the Borrel family, who asserted that France was prioritizing its strategic interests over the truth. One of the signs of France’s continuing role was the inauguration of a new French military base in July 2002. This was the most significant military infrastructure built by France in Africa in the past twenty-five years and was to be used by the 13e Demi-brigade de la Légion Étrangère, a semibrigade of the French Foreign Legion. It was able to accommodate the entire equipment of the ground army, some 900 vehicles, 62 of which were armored.118 France’s willingness to continue to engage with Djibouti without changing the status quo was also demonstrated in September 2002, when Guelleh made a trip to Paris to discuss bilateral relations. The discussion particularly focused on the twenty-five-year military cooperation between France and Djibouti.119 During this visit, Jacques Chirac made a firm statement that France wanted to pursue the harmonious and brotherly relations that it had with Djibouti.120 Guelleh’s visit, which featured the renegotiation of the bilateral relations between the two countries, particularly the issue of France’s military base in Djibouti, led to an agreement in May of the same year. It was revealed that France nearly doubled its payment to Djibouti for hosting its most important military base in sub-Saharan Africa, increasing from 18 million to 30 million euros per year.121 France pledged additional development aid that amounted to 25 million euros per year. What was exchanged was not only aid, but also legitimacy and diplomatic protection. When Djibouti accused France of attempting to undermine its sovereignty in connection with the Borrel case, France’s

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Defense and Foreign Ministries were quick to dismiss the accusation by stating that “contrary to information advanced by different press bodies, nothing in these documents allows us to conclude the involvement of Djiboutian authorities.”122 Following the call of the Versailles judge for Guelleh to present himself in court, the French state also guaranteed him diplomatic immunity.123 The continued involvement of France in Djibouti was sustained irrespective of the political party in power in France. The promise of the French socialist party, the Parti Socialiste, under Mitterrand to help the democratization of Africa by linking French aid to democratic achievement did not materialize in the case of Djibouti.124 By 2000, however, France was no longer the only significant external influence on Djibouti dynamics. Neighboring Ethiopia became a key factor and a major catalyst for maintaining the Eritrea-Ethiopia border conflict. As we soon see, Djibouti, and particularly its ruling elite, benefited immensely from the tragedy that unfolded in the two countries. From the start of the war, the port of Djibouti saw an explosion of activity. Ships carrying goods for the Ethiopian market, as well as Ethiopian vessels managed by the Ethiopian Shipping Lines Authorities, headed to the port of Djibouti. Within a year of the start of the war, between 1997 and 1998, the port activity nearly doubled to 3.1 million tons, compared to the 1.7 million tons that it previously handled per year.125 There was also an increase in land traffic: Djibouti had to clear space in its fishing port, as 200 to 300 trucks per day were arriving from Ethiopia.126 With the start of the war, the port of Djibouti also began to handle Ethiopia’s imports of arms and ammunition, including the importation of crude oil that was crucial in the war. Oil imports increased by 1 million tons following the start of the war.127 War was not the only tragic blessing that Djibouti encountered. The recurrent famine that Ethiopia often experienced also affected Djibouti. The absence of an alternative port after the war with Eritrea meant that Djibouti was inundated by food aid brought in by the World Food Programme (WFP).128 The Djibouti authorities had to deal with the arrival of ships carrying food aid and the logistical problems of debarking and transporting this aid.129 This increased activity forced the expansion of the port of Djibouti, the Port Autonome International de Djibouti (PAID), which did not have the capacity to handle the product. The expansion also allowed the port of Djibouti to remain competitive in the subregional system, which is endowed with several other major ports, such as the port of Aden (Yemen), which was privatized in 1991 and managed by Singapore, and

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the port of Salalah in Oman, which is managed by the Copenhagenbased logistics and transportation giant A. P. Moller-Maersk Group. Through the active brokerage of Abdourahman Boreh, an Issa/ Mamassan businessman who at the time was close to Guelleh, Djibouti invited the Dubai Port Authority (DPA) to manage and modernize the port of Djibouti. On 8 May 2000, DPA signed a twenty-year contract to manage the PAID.130 This agreement also permitted the DPA to develop a free trade zone in Djibouti. Within a few years, the DPA and other United Arab Emirates–based companies became major actors in the management of existing structures and investment in new projects. In June 2002, the Dubai Port Authority also obtained an agreement from the government of Djibouti to manage the Djibouti International Airport.131 In the same year, another UAE-based company, Emirates National Oil Company, launched a joint venture with the government of Djibouti for the distribution of liquefied natural gas.132 The largest intervention came in 2003 with the announcement of the construction of a new container terminal, free zone, and oil terminal in Doraleh, 18 kilometers outside Djibouti City. The container terminal, which is approximately 2,000 meters long, was expected to attract US$300 million of investment from DP World, which won the contract from the Djibouti government.133 Emirates National Oil Company (ENOC), which was developing the oil terminal and planned to manage it through its subsidiary Horizon Djibouti Terminal, invested US$30 million in the project.134 The port and oil depot were constructed at a rapid pace between 2003 and 2004; the free zone was finalized and inaugurated in October 2004. These new opportunities, which came into existence as a result of the Ethiopia-Eritrea war, consolidated the regime. The first point to look into is Djibouti’s improved status as a result of these investments. Djibouti became a facilitator of capital, a zone where capital can move easily with little hindrance. This made Djibouti indispensable, and the ruling party and the ruling elites became untouchable for those whose capital and goods were flowing through Djibouti. Any threat to the stability of Djibouti or its ruling elite was tantamount to sucking the oxygen out of the country. With the investment from Dubai, the Djibouti Free Zone (DFZ), and the oil depot constructed by ENOC, Djibouti’s importance extended beyond Ethiopia. The DFZ featured warehouse units, open storage sheds, and open plots of land; 100 percent foreign ownership of lands; no income tax; no currency restrictions; and above all, the possibility of repatriating 100 percent of capital and profit. It attracted a number of

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companies from around the world. As early as 2004, shortly after the DFZ inauguration, 58 percent of the storage space was rented out to companies based in Dubai (46 percent), Ethiopia (8 percent), and Djibouti itself (46 percent).135 The oil depot that was under construction was already attracting clients such as the US Navy, for which ENOC was reserving four tanks out of the total of twenty-one.136 The port of Djibouti, which DPA was managing, saw a 36 percent increase in its capacity: it was reported to be handling 4.57 million tons of bulk cargo in 2003, compared to 3.53 million tons in 2002.137 The flow of diversified capital to Djibouti as a result of the new infrastructure meant that Djibouti was now a high-stakes country and not easily dispensable. Ethiopia, the United Arab Emirates, and any other country with business interests in Djibouti could not work against the elites, who operated as gatekeepers. By providing these facilities, Djibouti created a dependency for those who used the space, as the flow of capital required a watchman who would ensure its smooth operation. What we increasingly see at this juncture of Djibouti history is that the modern nation-state served as a container to regularize the movement of capital and labor, and the elite, instead of representing their people and their country, worked as the instruments of capital and foreign interests.138 For the elite at the top, the direct and indirect trickle-down effects that come from the valorization of the state and its space—the process of increasing the value of spaces by the flow of capital and security apparatuses—cannot be overstated, as the beneficiaries and dispensers of the various forms of rents that are acquired are not the country’s institutions, which they effectively control, but themselves. The accumulation of capital ensures continued power. This characterization might look like an exaggeration and a deliberate refusal to look at the state in terms of institutions. This view has in fact been criticized by Emma Lochery, who, looking specifically at Kenya, insists on the importance of institutions, which she perceives as the building blocks of Horn of Africa states.139 However, sweeping statements regarding the importance of institutions fail to recognize the peculiar nature of Djibouti and the manner in which the state is held together. The Ethiopia-Eritrea war was not the only event that valorized Djibouti space and helped to consolidate the regime. Another factor was the tragic events of 11 September 2001 in the United States.140 Following the 9/11 attacks, Africa quickly became entangled in Operation Enduring Freedom, the US-led global operation to eradicate terrorism. The United States and its allies involved themselves in the Sahel with

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various initiatives.141 However, it was Djibouti that became the main partner in the new task of combating terrorism and, in particular, the search for their main target, Osama bin Laden, who was believed to be hiding in an ungoverned area of Somalia or Yemen. Djibouti’s strategic geopolitical position made the small country extremely attractive to the United States and its allies. In September 2002 the Pentagon stationed some 800 troops at Camp Lemonier, the former French military base. 142 Shortly thereafter, the Pentagon created a new command, the Combined Joined Task Force–Horn of Africa, and sent the Second Division of the US Marines to the area. This division, comprising some 1,300 troops, remained mostly on board the US warship Mount Whitney, which had come to the area to gather intelligence on the movement of terrorists.143 The Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) also started to run a classified flying mission from Djibouti to gather information and to assassinate suspected terrorists, such as Ali Qaed Sinan al-Harithi, also knowns as Abu Ali alHarithi, who was suspected of masterminding the bombing of the USS Cole in December 2000.144 This initial engagement was bolstered when Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld visited Djibouti in December 2002. His visit followed the bombing of a hotel in Mombasa on 28 November 2002 that killed twelve people.145 He left no doubt about the increasing importance of Djibouti: “[The United States] needs to be where the action is. There is no question this is an area where there is action. . . . [There are] a number of terrorists, for example, just across the water in Yemen and in the southern part of Saudi Arabia. These are serious problems.”146 This statement was strengthened when Guelleh made an official visit to the White House in January 2003.147 The visit led to the signing of an agreement that formalized the United States’s use of Camp Lemonier.148 The United States also agreed to open a United States Agency for International Development office in Djibouti.149 As a result of these agreements, by the end of 2004 the number of US military personnel in Djibouti increased considerably. Guelleh’s visit to Washington occurred when his political opposition, led by Ahmed Dini, was claiming that the 2003 election had been rigged, and the US State Department was reporting human-rights violations in Djibouti. Its report for the year 2003 noted violations of law including the arbitrary arrest of Daher Ahmed Farah, violations of the right of association, and very poor prison conditions.150 Nevertheless, the priorities for the United States were hunting bin Laden and waging war against terrorists. This meant accepting and supporting the regime.

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In order to use Camp Lemonier, the United States was ready to pay US$30 million per year as rent. On top of that, they were willing to give US$8 million in aid to Djibouti for education and health projects. One situation that demonstrates the connection between the grip of the Djibouti elite on power and the flow of cash from external actors is a misunderstanding that emerged between the United States and Djibouti. In 2003, the promised cash flow from the United States—including US$1.7 million for paving the ramp of the hangar of the presidential aircraft—failed to arrive. This situation made Guelleh nervous, as he was about to start his campaign for the 2005 presidential election. Anxious and frustrated, Guelleh sent his personal confidant and chief of the armed forces, Fathi Ahmed Houssein, to the US embassy in Djibouti to express Guelleh’s concern. The summary of the conversation that the US embassy personnel had with Houssein is worth quoting at length: Fathi said that the Djiboutians were having a very difficult time, in general, understanding what was agreed and not agreed on the part of the United States. . . . President Guelleh, he said, was deeply agitated by the reporting that had come in from Ambassador Olhaye in Washington about U.S. assistance to Djibouti. . . . Fathi said at the military level Djiboutians were beginning to understand how the American system worked. He cited an example of military equipment that had been ordered in the year 2002 but which, it now appeared, would not arrive until 2005. . . . Fathi said he was beginning to understand [how the American system works], and in general the Djiboutian military was beginning to get the picture. But President Guelleh was totally confused and completely troubled. Guelleh now told him that he understood nothing that had been reported by Ambassador Olhaye on the subject of U.S. assistance. Guelleh wanted to start all over. He wanted a clear, practical, down-to-earth, simple piece of paper that told him what Djibouti was going to get and when. The problem was, Fathi explained, that President Guelleh would begin next year his campaign for re-election in 2005. He needed already, now, to expedite payment of pensions and salaries, in preparation for the campaign. To do that he needed to know what money he was going to have in hand and when.151

This US document, which is classified as confidential, makes it clear that the tragedy of the romance of the state that Djiboutians have experienced cannot be explained by looking only at internal factors. The stark reality is that the Djiboutian state has never been disconnected from the global power circuit. It is piloted by transnational elites who act as gatekeepers in the interests of foreign powers and the smooth operation of capital. The Djiboutian state functions as a container in which the masses are managed by a carrot-and-stick approach. In a

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political context dominated by such an approach, the romance of the state is bound to be converted into tragedies for the masses and opportunities for the elite.

Djibouti’s 2005 Presidential Election After the 2003 legislative election, Guelleh made a firm and unwavering declaration in an interview with Jeune Afrique. The journalist asked whether Guelleh would leave the presidency if he was reelected in the next presidential election. This was a legitimate question given that many African presidents have played the game of changing the clause of the constitution that states that the president can serve only two terms— a restriction that was included in the 1992 constitution of Djibouti. Guelleh answered unequivocally: “Absolutely. I will respect the constitution. Even if I am pushed to amend it I will never agree to it. . . . I will serve until the end of my second term, that is, until 2011. Then I will retire. Twelve years is a lot. I don’t want the presidency to wear me out and make me feel bad. I will not die in power.”152 It was in the context of this public pledge that Guelleh informally stated his intention to run in the presidential election scheduled for April 2005. In February 2005, Guelleh’s intention was formally backed by all the parties who formed the UMP coalition. In a party gathering on 6 February in a former horseracing club on Guelleh Batal Boulevard, with some 6,000 supporters in attendance, Guelleh was declared the UMP candidate, as he was said to have an impeccable record that had led the country to development.153 In a joint statement, Ali Mohamed Daoud of FRUD and Moumin Bahdon Farah of the PPSD urged the assembled supporters to keep following the path that Guelleh had paved, because this road, they proclaimed, would definitely result in developmental progress. Aden Robleh Awaleh of the PND declared that he was supporting Guelleh because he “had ignored what divides us by always putting the interest of the nation first. . . . the man knows how to listen to us and the results of this are quite palpable today.”154 While the UMP showed stability in nominating Guelleh as its candidate, the opposition coalition was in a more problematic situation. The coalition’s leader, Ahmed Dini, whose health had been deteriorating in recent years, died on 12 September 2004 in a French military hospital at the age of 72.155 His death, which Guelleh described as a great loss for the people of Djibouti, had a serious impact on the opposition coalition.156 A power struggle arose among three groups: (1) his followers who were with him in the bush and who thought that they

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therefore had a legitimate right to lead; (2) his close relatives within the opposition, who justified their right to leadership by virtue of being his family; and (3) the Issa and Afar members of the coalition.157 The first battleground in the struggle included Kassim Ahmed Dini, the son of Ahmed Dini, who was the editor in chief of the ARD’s newspaper; Ahmed Youssouf Houmed, the vice president of ARD and the minister of ports under Aptidon; Mohamed Daoud Chehem, who actively participated on the FRUD side in the civil war and within the coalition led the PDD; and Daher Ahmed Farah, the head of the MRD, who had previously been attacked by the government.158 The second battleground was between the MRD and the UDJ, on the one hand, and the ARD and the PDD, on the other. It was rumored that the MRD led by Daher Ahmed Farah (an Issa/Fourlaba) and the UDJ led by Ismail Guedi Hared (an Issa/Saad Moussa) were seeking to bring the leadership into the hands of their parties so that the Afar, who were represented by the two remaining parties (ARD and PDD) and dominated the coalition, would lose the leadership position.159 The tension and the political jostling within the opposition manifested in Mohamed Daoud Chehem’s actions. In August 2004, Mohamed Daoud Chehem announced that he would be running in the 2005 election. This announcement was made while Ahmed Dini was in the hospital in a frail condition, and Chehem repeated it in a public announcement after Ahmed Dini’s death in November 2004.160 In a confidential conversation with members of the US embassy in October 2004, Chehem presented his announcement as a tactical move aimed at splitting the vote.161 Because the Djiboutian election system allows for a runoff election if no candidate receives 50 percent of the votes in the first round, and Djiboutians usually vote along tribal lines, Chehem argued that it was more logical to present more than one candidate in the first round and only unite in the second round.162 The other parties in the UAD coalition did not care for Chehem’s tactics. A party meeting dismissed him and his PDD from the coalition. His colleagues accused him of not following the party rules and taking action without a mutual decision.163 His colleagues noted that in October 2004 he had written a letter of apology to the party, only to violate it a month later by unilaterally issuing a press release that affirmed his intention to run for the presidency.164 Neither the UAD nor the PDD seems to have benefited from Chehem’s decision in the long run, as it did not lead to the formation of a strong opposition that could challenge the UMP and the existing electoral system. Nevertheless, the UAD made its own attempt to

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challenge the existing situation by writing a formal letter demanding that the government make adjustments to the electoral process so that the election would be conducted on fair grounds. 165 They asked the government to modify the existing electoral list to reflect the situation on the ground. They also demanded that the electoral list be made public and that the Commission Electorale Nationale Indépendante (CENI) be reformed so that opposition parties would have fair representation on the commission, which hitherto had been dominated by supporters of the ruling party. They also demanded revision of the existing electoral law. These opposition demands went unanswered. In February 2005, the silence of the government triggered a call for a boycott of the election. In a UAD meeting on 11 February 2005, the leadership of the opposition explained to their members the necessity of a boycott, and their decision was made public on 13 February 2005.166 The decision seemed to open up an opportunity for Chehem. Stating that an active boycott would only benefit the regime, Chehem once again announced his candidacy.167 However, he soon abandoned his candidacy, citing the lack of necessary funding as a reason. Djiboutian law requires a person running for the presidency to make a substantial financial deposit, which is only returned if the candidate wins 5 percent or more of the total vote. 168 According to the then–minister of interior, Abdoulkader Doualeh Wais, these finance rules fully explain the UAD boycott: they were afraid of losing the money because they were not certain of winning.169 The deadline for declaring candidacy was 8 March 2005. The next day, Wais announced the inevitable: the sole candidacy of Guelleh.170 This announcement, and the fact that the government went ahead and conducted the election, was quickly denounced by the opposition. Ali Mahamade Houmed, the information secretary of the ARD, stated that, by refusing to negotiate, the government deliberately sidelined opposition supporters, who made up 45 percent of the voters. He asserted that the opposition would mobilize its supporters to do whatever it took to invalidate the election.171 The 2005 election, in which Guelleh ran unopposed and whose outcome was predetermined, demonstrated the dominance of the RPP and marked the tragic end of the peace accord with FRUD. The electoral process in particular reveals the continued failure of the romance of the state. Like the previous election, the 2005 election was observed by international bodies. Two US-based institutions, the International Republican Institute (IRI) and the International Foundation for Electoral Systems

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(IFES), observed the preelection process, while the election itself was observed by the OIF, among other groups. In its official statement about the preelection period, the IRI and IFES team172 asserted that “flaws in the electoral process were due primarily to lack of technical expertise and financial resources rather than manipulation on the part of the majority coalition.”173 However, the internal report of the US embassy, as well as the official report of the OIF, demonstrated that the problem was not just lack of expertise but lack of political will on the part of the government to conduct a free and fair election in accordance with the peace agreement it had signed with FRUD.174 According to these reports, polling stations were visibly monitored by police, particularly in the district of Arhiba, an opposition stronghold inhabited mainly by members of the Afar ethnic group. Individuals wearing RPP T-shirts were also observed in polling stations. The voting process was also made difficult due to the manner in which votes were cast. Voters were given three cards. If they were voting for RPP, they were required to put their ballot, which was green in color, into an envelope, and drop it in the transparent ballot box. If they were opposing the election of RPP, they were required to tear the ballot, place it in the envelope, and drop it into the ballot box, or just put an empty envelope into the box and throw away the torn ballot. Voters were given a nonsealable envelope whose contents were visible when thrown into the transparent ballot box. The presence of police outside the station and of individuals in RPP T-shirts—some of whom were voting bureau officials—made it difficult to vote with an empty envelope or an envelope with a torn ballot. Guelleh won 99 percent of the valid votes. On 7 May 2005, he was inaugurated for the second term of his presidency in a ceremony at the Palais du Peuple, the RPP’s convention facility, in the presence of former president Aptidon, who was then eighty-eight years old, and a number of African leaders, including Paul Kagame of Rwanda, Omar al-Bashir of Sudan, and Girma Wolde Girogis of Ethiopia. Although he was boycotted by the opposition and their supporters, who had sworn not to recognize his presidency, Guelleh vowed on the Quran that he would be the president of all Djiboutians without distinction. On this occasion, Guelleh stated that in the coming years he would be engaged in building a “democratic, modern, and prosperous republic which is marked by social peace, national peace, national unity, political stability, harmony, and well-being for everyone and for all.” 175 Once again, Guelleh promised Djiboutians the possibility of realizing the romance of the state.

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1. Khaled Haidar, “Djibouti’s President Hassan Gouled Standing Down After 22 Years,” AFP, 4 February 1999. 2. Christopher Farah, “Focus—Djibouti Veteran President Gouled to Step Down,” Reuters, 4 February 1999. 3. Haidar, “Djibouti’s President Hassan Gouled Standing Down.” 4. Farah, “Focus—Djibouti Veteran President.” 5. Ibid. 6. Ibid. 7. “Djibouti: Grèves de la faim à l’ombre des Urnes,” Marchés Tropicaux et Méditerranéens, 8 April 1999. 8. Christophe Farah, “Djibouti Starts Presidential Campaign,” Reuters, 26 March 1999. 9. Ibid.; Cherif Ouazani, interview with Moussa Ahmed Idriss, Jeune Afrique, 6–12 April 1999. 10. See Amnesty International, “Djibouti: Fear of Arrest as Prisoner of Conscience: Aref Mohamed Aref,” AFR 23/10/99, 26 November 1999, https://www.amnesty.org /download/Documents/140000/afr230101999en.pdf. 11. “Djibouti: Exiles on Hunger Strikes as Djibouti Heads to Polls,” All Africa, 8 April 1999. 12. Ibid. 13. “Gouled’s Retirement Creates Room for Change,” All Africa, 9 April 1999. 14. Ouazani, interview with Moussa Ahmed Idriss. 15. Dianna Cahn, “Djibouti Citizens Choose First New President Since Independence,” Associated Press, 9 April 1999. 16. Ibid. 17. Ibid. 18. “‘Veteran Rulers’ Said to Win Poll,” AFP, 10 April 1999. 19. “Minorities Say Djibouti Elections Fair, Despite Irregularities,” Associated Press, 11 April 1999. 20. Cherif Ouazani, “Djibouti: Le testament de Hassan Gouled,” Jeune Afrique, 13 April 1999. 21. Chabal and Daloz, Africa Works. 22. Bratton and van de Walle, Democratic Experiments in Africa. 23. Ouazani, “Djibouti: Le testament de Hassan Gouled.” 24. Osaghae, “Study of Political Transition in Africa”; Allen, “Understanding African Politics.” 25. Khaled Haidar, “Djibouti Breaks Relations with Eritrea,” AFP, 18 November 1999. 26. “France Sends Anti-Aircraft Frigate to Defend Djibouti,” Reuters, 11 February 1999. 27. Pierre Prier, “Djibouti, une oasis à l’ombre de la France,” Le Figaro, 9 April 1999. 28. Ibid. 29. Pierre Prier, “Djibouti: Il faut que la France reste,” Le Figaro, 8 April 1999. 30. “Large victoire du dauphin du président Gouled,” Marchés Tropicaux et Méditerranéens, 16 April 1999, p. 793. Author’s translation. 31. “Seven Djibouti Police Killed in Landmine Blast,” Reuters, 15 April 1999. 32. Ibid. 33. “Four Soldiers Killed in Land Mine Explosion in Djibouti,” AFP, 8 May 1999.

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34. “Djibouti: Ismail Sworn in as President,” AFP, 8 May 1999. 35. “Two Girls Killed in Land Mine Blast in Djibouti,” AFP, 7 May 1999. 36. “Eight Soldiers Dead in Djibouti Chopper Crash,” AFP, 15 August 1999. 37. “Three Dead, Three Injured in Land Mine Blast in Djibouti,” AFP, 25 September 1999. 38. Ibid. 39. “New Government Formed in Djibouti,” AFP, 13 May 1999. 40. Ibid. 41. “Djibouti Opposition Figure Held for Press Crime,” AFP, 29 August 1999. 42. “Rights Groups Say Djibouti Reporters Jailed,” Reuters, 25 September 1999. 43. Ibid. 44. “L’un des principaux opposants a été arrêté à Djibouti,” Jeune Afrique, 25 September 1999. 45. Marc Perelman, “Djibouti: Dérapage incontrôlé,” Jeune Afrique, 28 September 1999. 46. “Djibouti’s Losing Presidential Candidate Arrested,” Reuters, 23 September 1999; Marc Perelman, “Djibouti: Dérapage incontrôlé,” Jeune Afrique, 28 September 1999. 47. “Djibouti’s Losing Candidates Jailed,” Reuters, 6 October 1999. 48. “Opposition Leaders Urge New Djibouti President to Negotiate,” BBC, 26 April 1999. 49. “Interview: Je n’aime pas coupures brusques,” Jeune Afrique, 25 May 1999. 50. “Djibouti–Eritrea Border Closed,” Xinhua News Agency, 31 July 1999; “Official Denies Reports of Fighting at Border with Djibouti,” BBC, 31 July 1999. 51. “France Reportedly Deploys Troops Along Djibouti–Eritrea Border,” BBC, 13 October 1999. 52. “French General Says France Will Defend Djibouti’s Territorial Integrity,” BBC, 22 October 1999. 53. For example, the Ethiopian authorities arrested Amir Adaweh, the editor in chief of the opposition journal La République in the town of Harar. According to the statement put out by his party and published on the ARDHD (Association pour le Respect des Droits de l’Homme à Djibouti) website, Adaweh went to Ethiopia on the pretext of a vacation to avoid being arrested like the journalists of Le Temps and Le Renouveau. On the arrest of Amir Adaweh, see “Rights Group Appeals to Djibouti, Ethiopia, over Detained Editor,” AFP, 1 October 1999; ARDHD, 24/09 Communiqué du PND, 24 October 1999, https://www.ardhd.org/2007/07/02/24-09-99 -lib-0-communique-du-pnd/. 54. “Regional Collisions,” Africa Confidential 40, no. 10 (14 May 1999). 55. “Djibouti–Eritrea Relations Deteriorating,” Xinhua News Agency, 13 November 1999. 56. “Djibouti Government Signs Peace Deal with Rebels,” AFP, 7 February 2000. 57. “Djibouti Government to Sign Peace Deal with Rebels in Paris,” AFP, 6 February 2000; “France/Djibouti: Accord entre gouvernement et opposition armée,” AFP, 7 February 2000. 58. Khaled Haidar, “Peace Deal Moves Ahead as 28 Djibouti Rebels Freed,” AFP, 10 February 2000. 59. Ibid. 60. “New Group of Prisoners Released Under Djibouti Peace Deal,” AFP, 12 February 2000. 61. Ibid.

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62. “Exiled Rebel Leaders Return to Djibouti,” AFP, 29 March 2000. 63. The coup d’état, which occurred on 7 December 2000, lasted a few hours. It was unorganized and did not have a connection with FRUD or the opposition force. It occurred because the police were angered by the removal of their chief, General Yasin Yabeh Galab, who also headed the national paramilitary group, which numbered around 3,000. The coup d’état was quickly overturned by the army, and although General Galab took refuge at the French military base, the French handed him over to the government. In June 2002, the general was sentenced to fifteen years in prison, while ten other policemen who were convicted of involvement in the coup d’état were given sentences ranging from three to ten years. Galab died a month later of kidney failure. On the event and the trial, see “Calm Returns to Djibouti After Police Mutiny When Boss Is Fired,” Associated Press, 8 December 2000; “French Hand Over Djibouti’s Former Police Chief,” Reuters, 9 December 2000; “Dead Former Police Chief Not Given Dialysis,” AFP, 20 July 2002. 64. “Djibouti Govt, Radical Opposition Sign Peace Accord,” AFP, 12 May 2001; “Djibouti Government Signs Peace Accord with Rebels,” Reuters, 12 May 2001. 65. For the full text of the agreement, see Journal Officiel de la République de Djibouti, “Accord de Réforme et de Concorde Civile,” 12 May 2001, https:// www.refworld.org/pdfid/5b34cf994.pdf. 66. “Djibouti Rebels Turn in Weapons Under Peace Pact,” AFP, 7 June 2001. 67. “Djibouti Rebels Get Government Posts Decade After Taking Up Arms,” AFP, 4 July 2001. 68. “Last Rebel Group in Djibouti Becomes Political Party,” Dow Jones International News, 27 February 2002, viewed on x Factiva Database. 69. “One Dead in Clashes in Djibouti,” AFP, 18 April 2002. 70. Christian d’Alayer, “Djibouti: un avenir pointillé,” Jeune Afrique, 30 June 2002. 71. Ibid. 72. Ibid. Author’s translation. 73. “Djibouti Opposition Front Plans to Resume Armed Operation,” BBC, 17 July 2002. 74. “Djibouti Heads Toward Full Multi-Party Politics,” AFP, 4 September 2002. 75. Ibid. 76. Domitille Hazard, interview, Jeune Afrique, 23 March 1999. 77. “A Plethora of Political Parties,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 16 November 2002. 78. “Two Lists for the Legislative Election,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 14 December 2002. 79. Ibid. 80. “Legislative Polls in Djibouti Postponed to January 10,” AFP, 18 November 2002. 81. “Djibouti’s Opposition Led by Former PM, Rebel Chief,” AFP, 9 January 2003. 82. Ibid. 83. “Djibouti Opposition Fear ‘Electoral Hold-Up,’” AFP, 9 January 2003. 84. Ibid. 85. Christophe Parayre, “Djibouti Holds First Full Multi-Party Legislative Polls,” AFP, 10 January 2003. 86. “Djibouti Opposition Leads in Early Legislative Poll Counts,” AFP, 10 January 2003. 87. “Allies of Djibouti President Win All Parliamentary Seats,” AFP, 11 January 2003.

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88. “Djibouti Opposition Leader Says Official Polls Result Rigged,” AFP, 12 January 2003. 89. Ibid. 90. “Djibouti Opposition Will Contest Elections Result,” Reuters, 13 January 2003. 91. Ibid. 92. “Djibouti Opposition Leader Says,” AFP. 93. For the report, see Organisation International de la Francophonie, Report de la Mission francophone d’observation des élections législatives du janvier 2003,” January 10, 2003, https://aceproject.org/ero-en/regions/africa/DJ/djibouti-rapport -de-la-mission-francophone. 94. For this and subsequent information on the election, see ibid. 95. “The Opposition Leaves for Diplomatic War,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 10 May 2005. 96. Cherif Ouazani, “Djibouti: Baptême du feu démocratique,” Jeune Afrique, 22 December 2002. 97. “Opposition Leaves for Diplomatic War,” Indian Ocean Newsletter. 98. For the statutes of the organization, see ACCPUF, “Statuts du 9 avril 1997,” https://cdn.accf-francophonie.org/2019/04/statuts.pdf. 99. “Djibouti Politics: Opposition Leader Arrested,” ViewsWire: Economist Intelligence Unit, 15 July 2003. 100. “Support for a Djibouti Opposition Member,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 28 December 2003. 101. De Waal, Real Politics of the Horn of Africa, 19–21. 102. François Soudan, “Interview,” Jeune Afrique, 9 May 2004. Author’s translation. 103. Nathaniel Herzberg, “Un témoin met en cause le président de la République de Djibouti,” Le Monde, 4 January 2000; “Un nouveau témoignage sur la mort d’un juge français à Djibouti,” Reuters, 12 January 2000. 104. The five people mentioned by Mohamed Saleh Alhoumekani were Hassan Said Kahireh, the head of Djibouti security services; Ahmed Mahadi Cheikh, eta major of the gendarmerie; two foreigners whom he did not know; and Awale Guelleh, Alhoumekani’s instructor at the military school, who was supposedly in prison in connection with the Café de Paris bombing but who was present during the meeting. 105. Alhoumekani stated that the people arrived at the presidential palace in two four-wheel-drive vehicles around 2:00 p.m., were received by Guelleh, and made very quick remarks. According to Alhoumekani, Awale Guelleh said to Ismail Omar Guelleh, “That’s it, the stinking judge is dead.” Guelleh asked, “Has the job been carried out properly?” According to Alhoumekani’s report, one of the two foreigners replied, “There isn’t a single trace, but you’ll have to ask the colonel to recover the daybook [the unedited initial report of the event].” Colonel Mahadi answered, “It’s been done.” For this account, see Nathaniel Herzberg, “Un témoin met en cause le président de la République de Djibouti,” Le Monde, 4 January 2000. 106. “Djibouti: La France approuve l’enquête sur la mort d’un juge,” Reuters, 21 January 2000. 107. “France: Nouvelle audition sur la mort d’un juge à Djibouti,” Reuters, 1 February 2000. 108. “French Magistrates Head to Djibouti to Probe Colleague’s Death,” AFP, 13 March 2000; “Djibouti: Deux Français enquêtent sur l’affaire Borrel,” Reuters, 13 March 2000.

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109. Regarding the ardent campaign of Borrel’s wife, see, for example, “Une veuve en guerre contre le ‘mensonge d’état,’” Libération, 22 October 2003. 110. “Affaire Borrel: Alhoumekani condamné à Djibouti à un an de prison ferme,” AFP, May 2003. 111. Ibid. 112. “Djibouti/Borrel: Des notes de la DGSE évoquent un assassinat,” Reuters, 8 April 2004. 113. The head of the CCSDN, Pierre Lelong, wrote a strongly worded letter to the then–minister of interior, Dominique de Villepin, stating that the defense minister and the security services have no right to decide whether a document should or should not be declassified. Claiming that the CCSDN was never consulted, he characterized the transmission of this very sensitive document as “a grave violation of the law.” On this issue, see Gérard Davet, “Le ministère de défense accusé d’avoir violé la loi sur le secret-défense,” Le Monde, 27 November 2004. 114. “Djibouti/Borrel: Des notes,” Reuters. 115. “Borrel: Djibouti va demander les pièces renforçant la thèse de l’assassinat,” AFP, 5 May 2004. 116. “Djibouti Accuses France of Destabilisation over Murder,” AFP, 17 April 2004. 117. “Djibouti Cabinet Hits at France over Report on Death of French Judge,” BBC, 10 April 2004. 118. “New French Military Base Inaugurated in Djibouti,” BBC, 19 July 2002. 119. “Djibouti Seeks to Revise Defence Accords with France,” AFP, 30 June 2002; “Le Président Guelleh mardi en visite officielle à Paris,” Reuters, 30 September 2002. 120. “Jacques Chirac assure Djibouti d’un ‘appui constant,’” Reuters, 1 October 2002. 121. “France Renegotiates Financing of Base in Djibouti,” AFP, 5 April 2003; “France Significantly Ups Payment for Its Base in Djibouti,” AFP, 11 May 2003. 122. “Paris assure ne pas mettre en cause Djibouti dans la mort du juge Borrel,” AFP, 20 April 2004. 123. “Djibouti Leader Immune from Questioning over Judge’s Death, France Says,” AFP, 9 August 2004. 124. For a fuller discussion on France’s relation to Djibouti during the Mitterand period, see Marchal 1995. 125. “Le port de Djibouti tourne à plein régime,” Marchés Tropicaux et Méditerranéens, 23 April 1991. 126. Ibid. 127. Ibid. 128. In May 2000, the organization provided a total of $US6.6 million to the Djibouti Port Authority. The money was intended to be used for upgrading the main road that led to the border with Ethiopia, the Arta-Galafi road, as well as to build two hangars and four truck weigh stations. In the same year, a million tons of food aid was needed for the famine victims in Ethiopia, and Djibouti processed 300,000 tons in three months. On this, see “330,000 Tonnes of Aid Moves Through Djibouti in Three Months,” AFP, 22 July 2000. 129. “Entretien avec Ahmed Doualé,” Marchés Tropicaux et Méditerranéens, 26 May 2000. 130. “Dubai’s DPA in Deal to Manage Djibouti Port,” Reuters, 8 May 2000. 131. “Dubai Ports International Authority Signs Agreement to Manage Djibouti Airport,” BBC, 8 June 2002.

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132. “Emirates National Co. Launches Gas Ventures with Djibouti,” Associated Press, 22 July 2002. 133. “ENOC Starts on $30 Million Bulk Liquid Storage Terminal in Djibouti,” Al-Bawada News, 30 June 2003. 134. “Works Begins on ENOC Bulk Storage Terminal in Djibouti,” OPEC News Agency, 25 July 2003. 135. “The Eldorado of Globalization,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 19 June 2004. 136. “Doraleh Port: Djibouti’s Economic Gateway Forges Ahead,” WikiLeaks, 21 June 2004 https://www.scoop.co.nz/stories/WL0406/S00149/cablegate-doraleh-port -djiboutis-economic-gateway-forges.htm. 137. “Djibouti Flourishes as Volumes Rise and New Shipping Lines Start to Call,” Lloyd’s List, 28 May 1994. 138. Badiou, The Rebirth of History. 139. Lochery, “Rendering Difference Visible.” 140. On the official account regarding the 9/11 attack by the commission set up by the United States of America, see The 9/11 Commission Report: Final Report of the National Commission on Terrorist Attacks upon the United States, The National Commission on Terrorist Attacks upon the United States, July 22, 2004 . 141. On the United States and its involvement in the Sahel, see Keenan, The Darker Sahara, and Keenan, The Dying Sahara. 142. Khaled Haidar, “US Force Set Up Base to Bolster War on Terror,” AFP, 27 September 2002. 143. Robert Burns, “Pentagon Creating New Military Command in Djibouti to Monitor Terrorists,” Associated Press, 4 November 2002. 144. The USS Cole was attacked in the port of Aden by suicide bombers in small vessels who detonated their explosives near the ship. The attack killed seventeen people. On the USS Cole bombing, see Howard Schneider and Robert Suro, “Death Toll Put at 17 in USS Cole Blast; Some Doubts Yemenis Will Aid in Probe,” Washington Post, 14 October 2000. On the attack carried out against Ali Qaed Sinan alHarithi, see “US Hits Qaeda in Yemen, Fires Missile from Spy Plane, Killing Six in Car,” Boston Globe, 5 November 2002. 145. The bombing, which occurred in the Mombasa Hotel, killed twelve tourists and was part of a coordinated attack that targeted Israelis who were on vacation. Shortly after the hotel bombing, two SA-7 antiaircraft missiles missed an Israeli plane that was flying from Mombasa to Tel Aviv. On this, see Emily Wax, “Suicide Bombers Kill 12 at Resort in Kenya: Hotel Hosted Israelis; Missiles Fired Nearby at Plane,” Washington Post, 29 November 2002. 146. “US Set to Keep Base in Djibouti for Several Years: Rumsfeld,” AFP, 11 December 2002. 147. “Bush Says US Opening Aid Office in Djibouti,” AFP, 22 January 2003. 148. In addition to this, Ali Abdi Farah, the then–Djibouti foreign minister, and Colin Powell, the US secretary of state, signed an agreement that gave US soldiers immunity from being transferred to the International Criminal Court (ICC), which was established in July 2002 through the Rome statute that came into force that year following its adoption in 1998. The agreement with Djibouti was the eighteenth agreement that the United States had signed following the entry into force of the Rome statute. Popularly referred to as the “Article 98 agreement”— after Article 98 of the statute, which asserts that the court will not proceed to request countries to surrender suspects if this surrender will make the country act inconsistently in any international agreement that they have made—the agreement requires the United States to approve any attempt to transfer US personnel to The

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Hague, where the ICC is based. On the ICC, see Broomhall, International Justice and International Criminal Court. On the Article 98 agreement that the United States has signed with various countries, see Zappalà 2004, “The Reaction of the US to Entry into Force of the ICC Statute.” On the US and Djibouti agreement, see “US Seals 18th ICC Immunity Deal as Djibouti Agrees to Pact,” AFP, 24 January 2003. 149. “Djibouti Politics: President Guelleh Feted in Washington,” ViewsWire: Economist Intelligence Unit, 18 March 2003. 150. US Department of State, Djibouti 2004. 151. “Djibouti: Assistance Confusion,” WikiLeaks, 4 September 2003, https:// wikileaks.org/plusd/cables/03DJIBOUTI1639_a.html. 152. Soudan, “Interview.” 153. “Djibouti Alliance Backs Candidacy of the Incumbent Guelleh in 2005 Presidential Vote,” BBC, 7 February 2005. 154. Ibid. 155. “Décède du chef de l’opposition à Djibouti, à un an de la présidentielle,” AFP, 13 September 2004. 156. Stephen Smith, “Disparations: Ahmed Dini Ahmed,” Le Monde, 15 September 2004. 157. “Impact of Ahmed Dini’s Death on Djibouti Politics,” WikiLeaks, 27 September 2004, http://wikileaks.org/plusd/cables/o4DJIBOUTI1250_a.html. 158. Ibid. 159. Ibid. 160. “Fisticuffs in the Opposition,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 11 December 2004. 161. “Conversation with Opposition Presidential Candidate,” WikiLeaks, 3 October 2004, https://wikileaks.org/plusd/cables/04DJIBOUTI1277_a.hltm. 162. Ibid. 163. “Fisticuffs in the Opposition,” Indian Ocean Newsletter. 164. “Conversation with Opposition Presidential Candidate,” WikiLeaks. 165. “Opposition Parties Demand Transparency for 2005,” WikiLeaks, 28 October 2004, http://wikileaks.org/plusd/cables/04DJIBOUTI1384_a.html. 166. “An Active Boycott of the Election,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 19 February 2005. 167. Ibid. 168. “Djibouti: Future élection présidentielle en trompe l’œil,” Marchés Tropicaux et Méditerranéens, 18 March 2005. 169. “Election Approaches; Interior Minister Discourages Protests,” WikiLeaks, 30 March 2005, http:/wikileaks.org/plusd/cables/05DJIBOUTI298_a.htm. 170. “Djibouti: Future élection présidentielle,” Marchés Tropicaux et Méditerranéens. 171. “Djibouti Opposition Derides One-Man Presidential Election as Sham,” AFP, 5 April 2005. 172. The team was headed by Ambassador Lange Schermerhorn, who served as US ambassador in Djibouti from 1998 to 2000, and was composed of three additional members (Stanley Lucas, Gisele Poirier, and Ann Wand). 173. International Republican Organization and International Foundation of Electoral System, Djibouti: 2005 Pre-Election Assessment, 22 March 2006, p. 3, www .ifes.org/publications/djibouti-2005-pre-election-assessment-report. 174. On the report, see Organisation Internationale pour la Francophonie, Rapport de la Mission d’observation de l’élection présidentielle du 8 avril 2005,

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http://aceproject.org/ero-en/regions/africa/DJ/djibouti-rapport-de-la-mission -d2019observation/view; “Election Days in Djibouti: Calm, with Some Protests,” Wikileaks, http://wikileaks.org/plusd/cables/05DJIBOUTI360_a.html. 175. Mohamadou Camara, “Et de deux défis pour Guelleh,” Jeune Afrique, 15 March 2005.

5 Strengthening Power: President Guelleh’s Second Term

FOR THE OPPOSITION INVOLVED IN DJIBOUTI POLITICS, THE

post-2005 election period started with tragedy. Soon after the election, a report emerged that Mohamed Daoud Chehem was summoned by the Djibouti security services, the Service de Documentation et de Sécurité, and reproached for an interview in which he had criticized Guelleh’s record.1 In the same month, another report about the situation in Afar emerged. It was reported that some Afar whose parents were members of the FRUD army had started a low-level armed insurgency around Mabla Mountain, which had previously been used as an operations ground for the FRUD army.2 These “new generation rebels” were reportedly led by Aramis Mohamed Aramis, Kamil Adawa, and Omar Daoud.3 All three were reportedly the sons of FRUD combatants whose fathers were killed during the war and who had been accepted into the Djiboutian army as a compensation. Reports also emerged of skirmishes that led to two deaths in the north of the country.4 This FRUD resurgence occurred despite the fact that three Afar had been added to Guelleh’s cabinet, bringing the total number of Afar holding ministerial positions to seven. The three Afar ministers were Houmed Mohamed Dini, Aicha Mohamed Robleh, and Abdoulkader Kamil Mohamed.5 The first two were actually FRUD sympathizers; they obtained, respectively, the positions of minister of labor and social security and minister delegate in charge of the promotion of women. Abdoulkader Kamil Mohamed, who was the national secretary of the RPP, was given the position of minister of agriculture.6 In the period following the inauguration, the people who had already decided that the only solution to the Djibouti political problem was 97

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armed struggle were not the sole dissatisfied elements. The peaceful political parties who were operating from Djibouti were also dissatisfied and made various moves. Interestingly, those who were dissatisfied included those in the opposition as well as people in the UMP camp. The dissatisfaction in the UMP ranks was particularly related to the new cabinet. To make way for the five new members, five former ministers were removed.7 In and of itself, the bringing in of “new blood” was not problematic, but the specific ministerial assignments became a bone of contention. The fact that the position of interior minister was given to Yacin Elmi Bouh, a member of the Mamassen clan of the Issa, was controversial.8 Given the importance of the position and the fact that citizenship in postcolonial Djibouti has a hierarchical character, the appointment of an Issa/Mamassen was regarded as a way of perpetuating the hegemony of the Issa/Mamassen over other Issa and Afar.9 This long-running complaint about the domination of the Issa/Mamassen clan was further aggravated by the fact that the leader of the PPSD, Moumin Bahdon Farah, was not given a ministerial position. It was rumored that this created a grudge in the UMP, as it was alleged that the PPSD had been promised one ministerial position.10 This tension within the UMP did not immediately impact the governing coalition, nor did it affect the political situation in Djibouti. The opposition, however, tried to influence the situation by declaring that they were boycotting the peace accord that had been signed between the FRUD army and the government. Their real purpose was to influence the regional and local elections that were to be held in 2005. The peace agreement, formally known as Accord de Réforme et de Concorde Civile, stipulated the implementation of a decentralized government and the formation of regions and communes that would form the basis of a new administrative structure in the country. Article 21b of the agreement states that the two parties have specifically accepted the formation of five regions: Ali Sabieh, Dikhil, Obock, Tadjoura, and Arta. They also agreed that the capital city, Djibouti, which is located within the Arta region, would have a special status.11 The agreement was formalized by Law no. 174/AN/02/4em on 7 July 2002, which created the decentralized governance and the regions on which it was based.12 Besides creating the five regions and giving Djibouti a special status, the law specified the composition of the regions.13 Each region would have a regional assembly. The regional assembly would consist of elected members, specialized commissions, and a bureau comprising the president and vice president. It would elect an executive body (Exécutif régional), which would in turn select an executive secretary, who would be answerable to the regional assembly.

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Representatives to the regional assembly were to be elected, with one representative per thousand registered voters. In accordance with this arrangement, the regional assembly of Dikhil would have thirty-three seats, Tadjoura twenty-two seats, Obock sixteen seats, Arta nine seats, and Ali Sabieh twenty seats.14 The city of Djibouti was divided into three communes: Ras Dika, Boulaos, and Hayabley. They were to have a total of one hundred seats, divided among the three communes on the basis of the principle of one seat per thousand voters.15 This arrangement was brought into question by the boycott at the beginning of Guelleh’s second term. Regional and communal elections were first set for 30 December 2005, but then postponed to March 2006, citing insufficient time for candidate registration and for informing the public about the election. From the beginning, this regional election faced stiff problems, which further contributed to the deterioration of the political situation of Djibouti. The first setback to this long-awaited regional and communal election occurred in September 2005, when the opposition party ARD (the ex-FRUD army turned political party under the leadership of Ahmed Dini) announced that it was renouncing the peace accord on the grounds that the government had repeatedly violated the accord and had not shown its willingness to genuinely implement its measures. This announcement was based on a vote among the ARD membership, and the announcement was celebrated by the Ligue Djiboutienne des Droits Humains (LDDH), headed by Jean-Paul Abdi Noel, and by other rights associations.16 It was followed by a boycott of the regional and communal elections that were finally held in March 2006. The opposition coalition UMD, of which ARD is a part, announced that it would not participate in a masquerade election whose conclusion was foreordained because the government had not made a sincere effort to democratize and decentralize the country. Ismail Guedi Hared, who by then was the leader of the UAD, declared that the regional election was “a political game that does not have any value for the country.”17 The result of the election, in which the opposition voted, was that the ruling party took almost all of the seats in the regional and communal councils. This predominance of the ruling coalition had a vexatious side, as not all members of the ruling coalition ended up being satisfied. In this much-anticipated election where local political conditions were expected to determine the results, the RPP obtained far more votes than the FRUD party in the UMP coalition even in the north of the country, which is dominated by the Afar ethnic groups and whose members dominate the rank and file of FRUD. At the national level, the RPP won 162 seats, compared to 26 for FRUD.18 The victory of the RPP in the north

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was unprecedented. In the region of Obock, where 15,978 people were registered and voter turnout was 57.3 percent, the RPP won 60.35 percent and FRUD only 22.39 percent of the valid votes.19 In Tadjoura, the other FRUD stronghold, which is dominated by the Afar ethnic group, the result was similarly unprecedented: 63.54 percent for the RPP and 25.76 percent for FRUD.20 These results came as a surprise to FRUD, which was hoping to obtain a certain amount of leverage at the regional and communal levels. FRUD did not hesitate to express its dissatisfaction over the results— which gave the RPP total control of the country. Ali Mohamed Daoud, the chairman of FRUD, spoke of a “serious distortion of the electoral process” and “an indefensible attack on our young democracy.”21 The Afar regions in which FRUD lost, namely Obock and Tadjoura, also complained, and FRUD requested the annulment of the results. FRUD claimed that in some districts ballots were removed before closing hour, and in other districts the votes were counted without the representatives of FRUD present.22 The tension created by the election results also caused conflict within FRUD and led to the resignation of Ougoureh Kifleh Ahmed, the former leader of the FRUD and the defense minister in the new cabinet that was formed in 2005.23 The disappointment of the 2006 elections signaled another defeat for the romance of the state in the political history of Djibouti. In insisting upon decentralization as one of the key elements of the peace accord, the opposition was hoping to solve the marginalization of the Afar, which had its roots in the economic imbalance and favoritism of the French colonial power, and which has resulted in a delicate power conflict that remains unresolved. Decentralization, as a solution to the colonial-era problem of marginalization that had carried over into the postcolonial Djibouti, failed tragically and dramatically. The tragedy of the failed decentralization solution added to the list of the tragedies that Djiboutians had experienced since independence. After the regional and communal election, the government undertook large-scale military operations in the northern Afar hinterlands against what they called bandits and criminals.24 These “bandits and criminals” were members of the FRUD, and the government’s military involvement testified to the fact that the Afar region was experiencing an insurgency movement. This brewing conflict also made itself felt within the opposition coalition, particularly the ARD. The party became divided between those who were calling for armed resistance and those who tried to follow a more moderate position.25 In December 2006, the party selected a new executive committee, and the more radical voices that

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were calling for war were contained.26 This did not significantly influence the continuous armed conflict in the north, nor did it lead the government to adjust its behavior. On 1 February 2007, the police arrested Houssein Ahmed Farah, the acting director of MRD’s journal Le Renouveau, and other members of the editorial team and seized their printing equipment.27 Their “crime” was the printing of an article that accused Abdallah Hamiri, the agent for Dubai customs in Djibouti, of sexual abuse.28 Specifically, it accused him of impregnating a young employee and negotiating with her family to hide the issue, which would lead to scandal if discovered. Although those arrested were soon released, the court put a three-month ban on the newspaper.29 This arrest of the members of the opposition was followed on 9 March 2007 by the arrest of Jean-Paul Abdi Noel, the leader of the LDDH, which had supported the boycott of the regional and communal elections and had previously been one of the most ardent critics of the Djibouti government. In an article that he published on 14 February 2007, Abdi Noel reported the accidental discovery of a mass grave containing seven bodies on 9 February 2007 in the forest of Day in the district of Tadjoura.30 He claimed that the mass grave, which had been exposed by torrential rain, contained the remains of civilians who were shot by government forces on 1 January 1994 when the FRUD-led civil war was at its height. He did not hesitate to name the executed persons: Ali Ballah Youssouf, Hassan Kamil Ali, Hamadou Kamil Hassan, Hamadou Mohamed Houmed, Mohamed Hassan Ali, Abdoulkader Hassan Youssouf, and Mohamed Ali Mohamed. On 3 March 2007, this exposé was followed by yet another article about abuse by government soldiers. Abdi Noel stated that two individuals, one of whom was a sergeant in the presidential guard, had raped a deaf-mute girl on 24 February 2007 around 9:30 pm.31 This alleged discovery of the mass grave and the allegation of rape led to Abdi Noel being sentenced to six months in prison on charges of “defamation and diffusion of false news.”32 It was in this climate of rumors of war, rape, and the discovery of a mass grave that a legislative election was announced for 8 February 2008. In apparent continuity of a practice that had now become routine, the opposition coalition, UAD, called for a boycott of the election. The head of the UAD, Ismail Guedi Hared, described it as a “fake election organized by the RPP for the RPP.”33 Calling the government a “prisoner of the single party,” he asserted that “the RPP government remains allergic to the liberalization of politics, which is a fundamental element of human rights.”34 The opposition could not do anything significant apart

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from registering their usual complains with the media. In fact, their maneuvering power was even more limited than usual. The demonstration that was called by the opposition for 1 and 2 February to protest the election was effectively banned by the government, who, citing Djibouti election law, stated that only political parties who were participating in the election were permitted to conduct rallies during the campaign period.35 The police conducted a raid on the UDJ party’s compound, where members of the ARD were reportedly intending to have a meeting.36 Opposition leaders were placed under house arrest, and some leaders and members, especially those who had put up resistance to government practices in Djibouti trade unions, were sent to the notorious Gabod prison.37 These included Souleiman Hassan Fadal, the general secretary of MRD; Abdi Osman Nour, a UDJ official; Housein Robleh Dabar, another UDJ official; Mohamed Doubad Ahmed, an activist; and Abdillahi Adan Guedi, a representative from the Union Générale des Travailleurs Djiboutiens (UGT). Around ten opposition leaders who seemingly tried to demonstrate on the day the UAD called for demonstrations were also held in a police station at Nagad.38 In the election, in which the turnout was 72 percent—higher than the presidential election of 2005—the Minister of Interior Yacin Elmi Bouh announced that the ruling coalition had won 94 percent of the total vote.39 One of the first congratulatory messages the UMP received for this result came from none other than Olivier Stirn, the architect of Djibouti decolonization, who back in 1976, in his capacity of secrétaire d’état aux DOM-TOM, had negotiated the independence of Djibouti on the side of France. Stirn was now the international advisor for Nicolas Sarkozy’s party, the Union pour un Mouvement Populaire, and also Sarkozy’s political advisor during his term in office.40 He congratulated the government on the impressive turnout and results and stated that he was “happy to see that democracy is reigning.”41 Guelleh categorically denied any government meddling in the election results. In an interview with Jeune Afrique shortly afterward, he stated that the government had done everything it could to create a fair electoral system. He asserted that the problem lay with the disorganized state of the opposition since the death of Ahmed Dini.42 Shortly after Guelleh made this statement, the Afar north once again became precarious and instable. The deterioration of the situation in the Afar region started two months after the legislative election in which the Union pour la Majorité Présidentielle in Djibouti was victorious. The immediate cause was the alleged border incursion of the Eritrean army.43 On 17 April 2008, Djibouti reported that Eritrean military forces had

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penetrated its border and established a military outpost.44 Although the Eritrean troops retreated almost immediately, on 19 April the situation in the border area continued to escalate, as Djibouti kept claiming that despite their retreat, the Eritrean forces had stationed troops along the border. Announcements from the Djiboutian government also asserted that the Eritreans were building a road to connect the ports of Assab and Doumeira, the main border area that the Eritrean troops had allegedly invaded.45 Over time, Djiboutian authorities also stated that the Eritreans were militarizing the area by building naval infrastructure.46 The developing situation was of great concern to the international community, as any emerging conflict or any military facility built in the Ras Doumeira area could potentially affect Red Sea shipments, since Ras Doumeira is located at the strategic Bab el-Mandeb.47 For the Djibouti government it was a question of survival. It responded by, among other things, strengthening its military bases at Moulhoule, 15 kilometers from Doumeira.48 The border tension that started in April reached a higher level on 10 June 2008 when Eritrean and Djiboutian soldiers engaged in a series of exchanges of fire following the desertion of Eritrean soldiers to Djibouti, provoking their Eritrean commander to open fire to stop them from crossing over.49 The border conflict affected the already fragile political situation of Djibouti. It particularly affected the northern region, which is inhabited by Afar. The government became increasingly touchy about the rebels in the north, fearing that, now that Djibouti was in conflict with Eritrea the Eritreans might start to actively help the rebel group and give them arms in order to destabilize Djibouti from inside. In April 2008, reports emerged that the government forces had exchanged fire with the rebels in the area of Mount Moussa Ali and northwest of Tadjoura in the vicinity of Syarou.50 These reports also stated that local people were rounded up and accused of helping the rebels.51 A few months later, on 12 October 2008, the rebels besieged the town of Randa and looted food that was stored in the premises of the Red Crescent Society.52 A similar incident took place the next day in Kalaf, which is 6 kilometers from Tadjoura.53 The Kalaf report indicated that the rebels even confiscated phones so that the government army could not be alerted. The actions of the rebels, coupled with the border problem that the government was having with Eritrea, induced the government to engage in a propaganda campaign in which the rebels were for the first time referred to as Eritrean-backed terrorists. The government also attempted to crush the rebellion by sending its officials, including the Afar prime minister Dileita Mohamed Dileita and the army chief

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General Zakaria Cheikh Ibrahim, to the north to convince the population not to support the rebel army.54 The government tactic did not seem to work, as reports of continued tension and violence emerged in the subsequent months. In December, a group of seven armed Issa soldiers was reported to have killed a fifty-eight-year-old shepherd by the name of Hamada Mahamad Youssouf in the area of Oued Houflo near Assa Gueyla after he refused to tell them where FRUD fighters were hiding their arms.55 The killing, which the locals found out about when the body was discovered on 6 December 2008, caused tension in Assa Gueyla, because the population, who accused the Issa soldiers of maltreating the man, pressed for the closure of the military barracks in the town. The government’s problems in the north arose not only from the actions of its troops but sometimes from their inaction, as some of the soldiers refused to follow orders. An example is the case of Major Ali Hamdi, a former FRUD rebel who was integrated into the army following the first peace accord; apparently he was unwilling to engage in hot pursuit of the rebels in the region of Moussa Ali.56 A similar attitude of disengagement was witnessed among Issa/Fourlaba troops led by Said Wallie. The report of the incident stated that these soldiers were slower in engaging with the Eritrean army than their Issa/Mamassen counterparts. Because the Eritrean army had superior military capacity, the Issa/Fourlaba soldiers felt that the Issa/Mamassen had more reason to engage in the situation than they themselves, who in the hierarchy of citizenship were thought of as lower than the Issa/Mamassen.57 Their inaction led to the imprisonment of their commander at the infamous Gabod prison. The effects of the conflict with Eritrea extended beyond the northern region, affecting the relations between the government and the opposition. An example of this is the relationship of the government with the MRD. The government accused the party of supporting the Eritrean invasion by writing a letter imploring the president of Eritrea, Isaias Afeworki, to invade Djibouti because it was marked by lack of democracy and a royalty-like regime that needed to be finished off. The government made public a copy of the letter, written on MRD letterhead and reading as follows: Excellency! Since the border crisis erupted between Djibouti and Eritrea in the Obock region of Doumeira last April, the armies of the two countries have been facing each other. This situation finally led to a bloody confrontation on 10 June 2008. Since then the fighting that has occurred has led to death and destruction on both sides. This is a serious situation which is not in the interest of the two countries. It can only hurt them both and will aggravate the situation in the Horn of

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Africa. In view of this dangerous escalation the Mouvement pour le Renouveau Démocratique (MRD), under the aegis of the opposition, would like to send a message to the president. In our country, there are no human rights or freedom of speech. Djiboutians live under the terror and dictatorship of the head of state. . . . We ask you, Mr. President, to put an end to the royal reign of Guelleh. We members of the opposition will manage our country transparently.58

This letter, which was denounced as a fake by the MRD, was used by the government to dissolve and outlaw the party. The decree, issued on 9 July 2008, stated: “The Mouvement pour le Renouveau Démocratique, which has invited the president of Eritrea to invade the Republic of Djibouti and hence compromise the independence of the country, the unity and territorial integrity of the state, is dissolved. . . . The assets of the Mouvement pour le Renouveau Démocratique are liquidated in conformity with the laws, or with the rules regulating associations.”59 Although the MRD was disbanded, the regime continued its rule and even went to the extent of changing the constitution of the country in order to do so. The next chapter outlines how the Djiboutian romance of the state was yet again turned into tragedy when the constitution was changed.

Notes

1. “The Head of PDD Under Surveillance,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 16 April 2005. 2. “A New Generation of Rebels,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 14 May 2005. 3. Ibid. 4. “New Incident in the North,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 3 December 2005. 5. “Djibouti President Forms New Cabinet,” BBC, 23 May 2005. 6. “Five New Ministers,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 28 May 2005. 7. Three of the rejected ministers were given advisory positions in the president’s office: Saleban Omar Oudine, the former minister of commerce, became the advisor for new technology and information and reported to the prime minister; the former health minister, Mohamed Ali Kamil, reported directly to the president with the title of advisor for food security; and the interior minister, Abdoulkader Doualeh Wais, became mediator of the republic. Otban Goita Moussa, minister of youth, and Dini Abdallah Bililis, minister of agriculture, were removed from office. 8. “Guelleh’s Second Term: Cabinet Changes, but Not Too Much,” WikiLeaks, 23 May 2005, http://wikileaks.org/plusd/cables/05DJIBOUTI498_a.html. 9. Ibid. 10. Ibid. 11. “Accord de Réforme et de Concorde Civile,” Journal Officiel de la République de Djibouti, 12 May 2001, http://www.presidence.dj/PresidenceOld/LES%20TEXTES /accordreforme.html. 12. Djibouti : Décentralisation et Statut de Régions, Law no. 174/AN/02/4em, 7 July 2002, http://www.droit-afrique.com/upload/doc/djibouti/Djibouti-Loi-2002-174 -decentralisation.pdf.

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13. For an extended study of the decentralization that was implemented and its evolution, see Hassan, La décentralisation en République de Djibouti. 14. “Décret no 2006-0043/PR/MID portant publication des listes candidates aux élections régionales et communales du 10 mars et attribuant les emplacements réservés à l’affichage,” 20 February 2006, Journal Officiel de la République de Djibouti, https://preprod.ansie.dj/PresidenceOld/jo/2006/decr0043pr06.htm. 15. Hassan, La décentralisation en République de Djibouti, 57. 16. “Djibouti: L’opposition boycottera les élections régionales du 10 mars,” Marchés Tropicaux et Méditerranéens, 3 March 2006. Author’s translation. 17. Ibid. 18. “National Election Result 10 & 31 March 2006, Regional and Communal Election in Djibouti,” African Elections Database, http://africanelections.tripod.com/dj _2006regional.html. 19. Ibid. 20. Ibid. 21. “Djibouti: Pro-Government Party Notes Irregularities in Local Polls,” BBC, 13 March 2006; “The FRUD Has Been Had,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 18 March 2006. 22. “The FRUD Has Been Had,” Indian Ocean Newsletter. 23. Ibid. 24. United States Department of State, Bureau of Democracy, Human Rights, and Labor, Djibouti 2006, 6 March 2007, https://www.state.gov/j/drl/rls/hrrpt/2006 /78731.htm. 25. “The Djibouti Opposition,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 16 December 2006. 26. The new executive committee, which was composed of twelve persons, included Ahmed Youssouf Houmed, who held the chairmanship, and three vice presidents: Adan Mohamed Abdou, Faradda Witti, and Ali Mahamad Houmed. The other members selected were Kassim Ali Dini (secretary general), Kamil Mohamed Ahmed, Souleiki Omar Souleiki, Ahmed Ali Mohamed, Kamil Hassan Ali, Mohamed Ali Abdou, Mohamed Ismail Aden, and Fato Omar Mohamed. 27. United States Department of State, Bureau of Democracy, Human Rights, and Labor, Djibouti 2007, 6 March 2007, https://www.state.gov/j/drl/rls/hrrpt/2007 /100478.htm. 28. “Abdallah Hamiri’s Setbacks in Djibouti,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 9 May 2005. 29. United States Department of State, Bureau of Democracy, Human Rights, and Labor, Djibouti 2007. 30. Jean Paul Abdi Noel, “Note information du 14 février 2007 relative à un charnier au Day en République de Djibouti!” Déclaration sur la découverte d’un charnier et le viol d’une sourde-muette au Day, http://www.ardhd.org/iddh/H0319_dossier.pdf. 31. Jean Paul Abdi Noel, “Note d’information du 3 mars 2007: Le Day, zone de non-droit?” Déclaration sur la découverte d’un charnier et le viol d’une sourde-muette au Day, http://www.Ardhd.org /iddh /H0319_dossier.pdf. 32. “Djibouti,” Marchés Tropicaux et Méditerranéens, 23 March 2007; “Court Jails Djibouti Rights Leader to Six Months in Jail for Defamation,” BBC, 19 March 2007. 33. “Djibouti: L’opposition appelle à boycotter législatives,” Marchés Tropicaux et Méditerranéens, 8 February 2008. Author’s translation. 34. Ibid. 35. “Djibouti Bars Parties Not Taking Part in 8 February Polls from Holding Rallies,” BBC, 1 February 2008. 36. “Return to the One-Party State?” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 4 February 2008. 37. Ibid. 38. Ibid.

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39. “Djibouti: Victoire du parti présidentiel,” Marchés Tropicaux et Méditerranéens, 15 February 2008. 40. For Olivier Stirn’s autobiographical account of his career, see Stirn, Mes Présidents, 50 ans au service de la Ve République. 41. “Olivier Stirn Congratulates Ismail Omar Guelleh,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 20 February 2008. 42. “Ismail Omar Guelleh: Djibouti n’a plus besoin de France,” Jeune Afrique, 3–9 February 2009. 43. So far, there are few studies that document this border conflict. For further reading, see Abbink, “Briefing: Eritrea-Ethiopian Border Dispute”; Frank, “Ripeness and the 2008 Djibouti–Eritrea Border Dispute”; Mesfin, Eritrea–Djibouti Border Dispute. 44. “Djibouti FM Reports Talk Underway with Eritrea to Defuse Border Incidents,” WikiLeaks, 20 April 2008, https://wikileaks.org/plusd/cables/08DJIBOUTI380 _a.html; “Djibouti Accuses Eritrea of Incursion,” BBC, 25 April 2008. 45. “Djibouti FM Reports Talk” WikiLeaks; “Djibouti Accuses Eritrea of Incursion,” BBC. 46. “Djibouti FM Concerned About Apparent Eritrean Naval Facility Under Construction at Bab al Mandab Strait,” WikiLeaks, 23 April 2008, https://wikileaks .org/plusd/cables/08DJIBOUTI393_a.html. 47. “Djibouti Foreign Minister Reiterates Call for International Condemnation of Eritrean Incursion,” WikiLeaks, 5 May 2008, https://wikileaks.org/plusd/cables /08DJIBOUTI432_a.html. 48. “Djibouti FM Reports Talks,” WikiLeaks; “Djibouti Accuses Eritrea of Incursion,” BBC. 49. Nasser Fahim, “Eritrea, Djiboutian Troops Exchange Fire at Border,” AFP, 10 June 2008. 50. “Things Hot Up in the North,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 17 May 2008. 51. Ibid. 52. “Down with the FRUD Rebels!” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 22 November 2008. 53. Ibid. 54. Ibid. 55. “Renewed Tension in the North,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 15 December 2008. 56. “Troops Dragging Their Feet,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 20 December 2008. 57. Ibid. 58. Mouvement pour le Renouveau Démocratique et de Développement, “Communiqué de presse: Message adressé au Président de l’Erythrée, Brucelles, 6 July 2008,” http://www.mrd-djibouti.com/mrd-djibouti/index.php/actualites/77-confzak-3. Author’s translation. 59. “Décret no 2008-0167/PR/MID portant dissolution d’un parti politique,” Journal officiel de la République de Djibouti, 9 July 2008. Author’s translation.

6 A Third Term: Quelling the Opposition

IN 2004, WHEN GUELLEH WAS PREPARING FOR HIS SECOND

term, he promised in his interview with a Jeune Afrique journalist that he would not seek a third term. When the time came, however, Djiboutians realized that he would contest for a third mandate. This decision led to a power struggle with his major business partner of the time, Abdourahman Boreh, who was viewed as his likely successor. The breakup started to become visible in 2007. In that year, Soprim, one of Boreh’s companies, was constructing a building for the First Lady in the city center of Djibouti near the Djibouti Chamber of Commerce. The company issued an invoice for the work done, which was not viewed kindly. The First Lady, who had made only an initial down payment, refused to pay the balance.1 This was not the only case of nonpayment. Boreh apparently also refused payment for other construction works that he undertook for the state, which according to some accounts amounted to US$4 million.2 In October 2008, the Doraleh container terminal construction site, which is managed by Boreh, was ordered to be closed on two occasions. On one of these occasions, the republican guard and the police also came to seize the Soprim equipment that was being used.3 The Ministry of Finance demanded that he pay millions of dollars in unpaid taxes after a tax adjustment. His cement company, Djibouti Mix, was asked to pay US$10 million for the year 2005–2006 when the only investment that the company had made by that time was the purchase of a cement mixer with a value of US$800,000.4 In November 2008, this initial wrath took a more formal and public turn. Boreh was removed as the head of the Djibouti Port and Free Zone Authority (DPFZA) and was replaced by Aden Ahmed Doualeh, 109

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who until then had been the representative of the Djiboutian government in the PAID.5 After this formal dethroning, further actions were taken against Boreh’s interest. On 13 February 2009, Boreh’s younger brother, Mahmoud Mohamed Boreh, was arrested in Djibouti and underwent a rigorous interrogation. His “crime” was threatening the consul of Morocco in Djibouti. The context was a heated argument that the two were having over a plot of land on which the consul wanted to build a villa, but which the Boreh family claimed they had already purchased for the construction of sixty-five villas, for which work had already started.6 On 19 February 2009, the twenty-three-year-old nephew of Boreh, Ismael Ahmed Mohamed, was found dead in his room.7 Although Boreh’s son, Alla, acknowledged that he had a history of depression, some members of his family, including Boreh, accused the government of his death. Reports emerged that he had told his mother that the Djibouti security services had threatened him by saying that they were going to finish off the Boreh family. Djibouti’s gendarmerie went to the bank that was used by Boreh in Djibouti, Banque Indosuez Mer Rouge (BIMR), a subsidiary of the French bank Crédit Agricole, asking for the records of all of Boreh’s transactions in the past two years, and threatened the bank manager with imprisonment when he cited confidentiality rules and refused.8 Later on, Ibrahim Hamadou, who was a deputy director of the bank as well as a representative of Djibouti on the bank’s board, was purged and made a technical assistant to the Afar prime minister, Dileita Mohamed Dileita. He was accused of inappropriately granting Boreh overdraft facilities, despite the fact that Boreh was a valued customer of BIMR.9 Hamadou was not the only person to be purged. Housein Kassim, human resources director at the Port of Djibouti, was also dismissed from his job.10 His crime was being close to Boreh, but this was not the only factor, either for Kassim or for Hamadou. Both were Afar and members of the legalized FRUD. The fact that they were Afar who had close ties with Boreh, who is an Issa, was viewed as a political threat to the government, which had long feared that members of the two communities might join together, as this would surely reduce the electoral base of Guelleh.11 In this period, further repressive measures were taken against Boreh’s companies and people who were close to him. In March 2009, members of the republican guard went to the general manager of the Boreh group in Djibouti and the chief accountant to retrieve the company’s marble, which was deposited at Kadra’s incomplete and unpaid building. The republican guard ordered that the marble be brought to the republican guard depot.12

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More seriously, on 22 March 2009, Boreh’s younger brother and his cousin Mahadhi Abdillahi were arrested.13 Their arrest was linked to a grenade attack that had occurred in Djibouti on 4 March. The government accused the two of carrying out the attack on the orders of Abdourahman Boreh in the hope of destabilizing the country. Boreh’s cousin died in unclear circumstances while he was in police custody. In hindsight, the seizure of the marble turned out to be the first in a series of actions that the government took against Boreh’s property. A month after the marble incident, in June 2009, Soprim’s equipment at the Doraleh container terminal, which was then under construction, became a target. Since Soprim was only a minor actor in the port construction, the Djibouti authorities demanded that the manager of the Brazilian firm Construtora Norberto Odebrecht hand over the Soprim equipment.14 When the manager refused to hand over the property without a formal written order, the gendarmerie proceeded to take it anyway. Subsequently, numerous trucks that were used by Boreh were also seized.15 This seizure was justified by the government as recuperation of the tax that Boreh owed to the state of Djibouti—which, as previously explained, was assessed only after a retrospective tax adjustment by the Ministry of Finance. By July 2009, the government was concentrating on the construction work that Boreh’s company was undertaking in the French embassy as a subcontractor for a Lebanese company, Iman Ingénierie. The work was effectively stopped by revoking the license of the contractor—an act which automatically stopped the activity of Boreh’s company.16 In the same month, the business license of Boreh’s company Red Sea Central, the sole importer and agent of Benson & Hedges cigarettes in Djibouti, was revoked for supposedly illicitly importing contraband Benson & Hedges cigarettes.17 The government-controlled television service showed the seizure of the alleged contraband.18 In view of these actions, Boreh filed a civil complaint in Paris through his lawyer, Olivier Morice, on 24 February 2010.19 In his complaint, Boreh accused the presidential couple of the assassination of members of his family, extortion, and blocking his candidacy for the presidency in the upcoming presidential election that was scheduled for April 2011. Almost immediately his action triggered a similar court procedure in Djibouti. On 6 June 2011, the government filed a suit asking the lower court of Djibouti to sequester the property of Boreh and his family for nonpayment of taxes. Six days later the court ordered the sequestering of the property of Boreh and his two children, Alla and Nadira.20 On 24 June, Boreh was ordered to appear in court in a trial that was investigating the 4 March 2009 bombing, in connection with which two of Boreh’s

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relatives were imprisoned and his cousin died in prison in a mysterious manner.21 In light of this new development, Boreh’s lawyer wrote to the minister of justice, Mohamed Barakat Abdillahi, requesting permission to represent Boreh. The government rejected the request, stating, “Your client can only benefit from the help of a lawyer and recover all his rights if he appears in person before the criminal court.”22 Boreh was found guilty by the Djiboutian court of orchestrating the bomb attack and was sentenced to fifteen years in prison.23 In the same month, the Djibouti lower court acted swiftly against Boreh’s property.

Other Challengers to Power Although Abdourahman Boreh was the most visible and powerful opposition figure, he was not the only one. Another was the popular musician Nima Djama Miguil, who openly and without hesitation opposed the amendment of the constitution and also criticized the presidential family, particularly First Lady Kadra Mahmood Haid. While Nima was in Djibouti in 2008, her Canadian passport was confiscated by the Djiboutian authorities. A year later she was arrested and sent to Gabod prison following a very minor conflict with her neighbor—an affair that was regarded as a politically motivated trap.24 When she was eventually released from prison, Nima implicated the First Lady in her arrest in yet another critical song that become a hit in Djibouti. The song included themes of arbitrary arrest, selling out the property of one’s country, and breaking the law. One of the lyrics refers to a “condemnation coming from Paris”—the place where Kadra was when Nima was arrested.25 The Somali poet Ahmed Darar Robleh had a similar experience to Nima’s. Known for his criticism of the government and for his opposition to a third presidential term, Ahmed Darar Robleh was arrested on 2 July 2009 and imprisoned for six months beginning on 19 July 2009.26 His alleged crime was the composition of a poem that was heavily critical of the government. Guelleh’s bid for a third mandate also faced challenges from within the UMP coalition and the RPP party. In the coalition, FRUD initially showed strong resistance to the amendment of the constitution. They only came to agreement after a negotiation that centered on increased representation in the future government; amendment of the legislature system by adopting a representational system to ensure the representation of districts below the regional level; and the creation of new ministerial positions, such as the post of vice president, in order to bolster the position of the prime minister, which since independence had been

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reserved for an Afar but had remained a largely ceremonial position with no real influence.27 The attempt to build a coalition through negotiation and the promise of better representation proved to have a limited impact. The ruling coalition and the government were rocked by dissenting voices and the more quietly hesitant people who opposed the third mandate without expressing it in public. The “hesitant” category belonged to the Issa Mamassen clan, who were reportedly fearful that a third mandate for Guelleh would strengthen Kadra Mahmood Haid, and by extension the Issak community from which she comes.28 There were those who categorically and openly challenged Guelleh’s attempt. Prominent among them was the PDD leader Aden Robleh Awaleh, who vehemently opposed the constitutional amendment in a conference organized by the RPP.29 Taking things a step further, in midNovember 2009 the party of Aden Robleh Awaleh, through a communiqué and an item in the party newspaper La République, called for people to participate in the PDD’s seventh party congress on 13 December 2009. At this conference, besides objecting to the constitutional amendment, the party congress named Aden Robleh Awaleh as its candidate for the upcoming presidential election30—a move that put intense pressure on Aden Robleh Awaleh. The RPP newsletter Le Progrès severely criticized Aden Robleh Awaleh as a narrow-minded and clan-focused political leader, old and out of touch with the new generation.31 When the poet Ahmed Darar Robleh was imprisoned, it was not only the poetry that mattered but the fact that he was a member of the Odahgob clan of the Issa, to which Abdourahman Boreh also belonged.32 Members of this clan who worked in civil service, police forces, and in the presidential palace increasingly came under suspicion because they were regarded as pro-Boreh. In March 2010, a number of Odahgob policemen were purged. In the same month, Issa Furlaba policemen were eased out of the force.33 Like the Odahgob, they were suspected of being anti-Guelleh because they belonged to the same subclan as Aden Robleh Awaleh. The various intimidation tactics did not deter the opposition. In Paris, where many members of the Djibouti opposition had fled, several meetings were held, including one that was organized and conducted by Abdourahman Boreh. This meeting brought together the leader of the FRUD army, Mohamed Kadamy, and the leader of the MRD, Daher Ahmed Farah.34 On the ground in Djibouti, the opposition was increasingly making itself felt, particularly in the north where the FRUD army was present, and people feared the resumption of a full-scale civil war

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as attacks multiplied. On 6 June 2009, an army vehicle was blown up by a land mine near the Eritrean border. The next day, in a reprisal move, the government sent Mi-18 army helicopters to Mount Alab, Gal’eela, Ayri, and Harka—areas that had long been used by FRUD.35 The helicopters fired indiscriminately around the areas. A few days later, on 14 June 2009, two columns of the Djibouti ground army were sent to the area of Mount Mabla.36 The army chief of staff, General Zakaria Cheikh Ibrahim, indulged several times in rhetoric that boasted of the capacity of the Djiboutian army to squash the FRUD insurgency.37 Despite the rhetoric and the bravado of the army chief, the army was far from unified. Tension increased once the move was made to amend the constitution. Friction and division were particularly noted between Issa/Mamassen soldiers and former FRUD soldiers who had been incorporated into the army.38 Visible incidents included the killing of a popular FRUD officer, Mohamed Halloyta, by an Issa/Mamassen soldier in unclear circumstances on 18 August 2009; the imprisonment of five soldiers who were formerly part of the FRUD army after they intervened to stop the maltreatment of an Afar by Issa soldiers in the area of Assa Gueyla in the Tadjoura district following a land mine explosion that hit a Djibouti army tank on 15 October 2009; and an incident in the Dikhil region where a former FRUD soldier fired a warning shot when he saw an Issa soldier mistreating a pregnant woman during a routine operation where soldiers were trying to determine who was providing food for the FRUD army.39

Constitutional Amendment and its Consequences In this atmosphere of division and repression, the Djibouti parliament finally and unanimously amended the constitution in April 2010 to remove the presidential term limit.40 At the same time, it reduced the presidential term from six years to five, created a senate, and abolished the death penalty. Guelleh presented the revision of the constitution as a global and balanced reflection that emanated from sustained democratic debates that were undertaken in order to strengthen the institutions of the country.41 He characterized the change in the constitution as an event that gave hope to many, particularly those who had encouraged him and supported him in his vision for a modern and strong Djibouti. Describing the republic as an unfinished business requiring struggle from day to day and from generation to generation, he portrayed himself as only one actor, who cannot do anything without the help of the population. He cast himself as a humble being who was only submitting to the will of God and the people of Djibouti in accepting the candidacy.

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The amendment of the constitution by unanimous vote and Guelleh’s characterization of it as the will of the Djiboutian people and their deputies did not convince the opposition camp. Upon the demand of FRUD leaders, Stéphane Le Foll, a French Socialist politician who was a member of the European Parliament at the time, sent a written protest to the European Commission asking it to denounce the change of constitution in order to save Djibouti from its political crises and ultimately prevent a scenario like Somalia’s.42 This appeal to the European Commission failed. In fact, the Djibouti political situation worsened. The country’s police force and army showed signs of crisis. In May 2010, the government of Djibouti, through its prosecutor, Maki Omar Abdou, declared that the chief of staff of the National Gendarmerie, Colonel Abdi Bogoreh Hassan, had committed suicide on 11 May at 3:30 A .M . at his home. The government claimed that the colonel killed himself after chewing the stimulant khat and becoming depressed over health problems.43 The report of the colonel’s death sent a shock wave through Djibouti. The government line was almost immediately cast into doubt by the opposition and their supporters, who maintained that the colonel was assassinated by the government.44 In the city of Djibouti, on social media sites, and in the diaspora, various arguments were advanced as to why the assassination theory was more plausible than the suicide theory. Because it was rumored that the colonel had been killed by multiple gunshots, those who argued for the assassination thesis pointed to the material impossibility of committing suicide in this manner, as the type of gun that the colonel was said to have used does not discharge multiple bullets, and he would have had to pull the trigger more than once—an unlikely scenario, given the damage that the first bullet would have caused. Those who believed in the assassination theory also pointed out that assassination was more likely because the gun that was found with him was not his own, but belonged to one of his bodyguards. Sources in the opposition also said that the suicide thesis should not be taken seriously because it was declared by the prosecutor without an autopsy; in fact, the military had refused the family’s demand for an autopsy. The assassination theory gained even more currency as a result of an interview that Aden Robleh Awaleh granted to a journalist in the BBC Somali service. In this interview, whose content was disseminated over social media, the journalist claimed to be citing information that was given to him by relatives of the colonel, his bodyguards, and his contacts in the army.45 He stated that an elderly relative of the colonel, whom he had known for a long time, informed him that the colonel was hit by ten

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bullets, four of which entered his body from the back. Furthermore, Aden Robleh Awaleh (still quoting his contact in the army) said that the colonel’s bodyguards were ordered to leave his home, return to their barracks, and not protect him after 8:00 P.M. In the ensuing days and weeks, no one was able to prove these explosive allegations, but their effects were widely felt and discussed. For instance, Abdourahman Boreh, in an interview that he gave in Paris, asserted that the suicide thesis was almost comical and completely unbelievable, since no one can fire three or four bullets to kill himself.46 The days, weeks, and months that followed the death of Colonel Bogoreh were filled with uncertainty and crisis. Renewed skirmishes in the north of the country were reported.47 On 19 May, government soldiers stationed at the Margoita military base in northwest Tadjoura were attacked by FRUD rebels.48 On 28 May, FRUD forces also attacked government forces near Mount Moussa Ali and in Andaba, 15 kilometers from Bouya. Shortly afterward, clashes between government and FRUD forces were reported to have occurred 35 kilometers from the port of Obock.49 At this juncture, the multiplication of the attacks was less worrisome than the low morale of the government forces and their reluctance to fight FRUD despite official orders. It was reported that this lack of enthusiasm led senior military officials to advise Guelleh to pursue the path of negotiation instead of fighting to avert bloodshed and FRUD’s advance.50 The problems within the army and police were exacerbated by the report of the death of another high-ranking military officer two months after the death of Colonel Bogoreh. On 19 August 2010, it was reported that Colonel Abdillahi Mouhoumed, second in command in the Djibouti security service, the Service de Documentation et de Sécurité (SDS), had died in the evening hours of a heart attack.51 The death of this intelligence officer added further fuel to the suspicion that these unexpected deaths were linked to the struggle regarding the change of constitution. One factor that strengthened this view was the reported refusal of the military and government officials to grant the families’ demands for autopsies. As in the case of Colonel Bogoreh, the cause of death of Colonel Abdillahi—according to the Djibouti human-rights advocacy association, ARDHD—was announced before any autopsy was conducted.52 In an article that was posted online, the association asserted that the colonel was assassinated between 1 and 3 P.M. by four men who came to his house. Instead of the official cause of death, heart attack, the organization stated that the colonel died after his neck was broken.53 They also compared his death to the death of the

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previous incumbent in the position of officier supérieur, Karaf, who they claimed was slaughtered in Djibouti near the Lycée Guelleh Bethel after passing sensitive intelligence documents related to the Café de Paris bombing to the French embassy.54 As in the case of Colonel Bogoreh, little could be done to independently verify the ARDHD’s assertions or the rumors that were circulating in town and in social media and creating fear and uncertainty. The situation was not helped by increased tension between the Mamassen clan, to which Guelleh belonged, and the Issak clan, to which the First Lady belonged. In this period of uncertainty when Guelleh’s future was not yet fully secured, the Mamassen feared the possible takeover of the presidency, and thus damage to their interests and loss of protection, by the Issak network, whose chief patron was the First Lady. The fact that there was no clear strong contender for the presidency from the Mamassen side aggravated the anxiety of the Mamassen. The uncertainty that had made itself felt since Guelleh announced his plan to run for a third term finally erupted in mass demonstrations in 2011, when the Arab world was engulfed by what came to be known as the Arab Spring—the mass protests and demonstrations that engulfed the Middle East and resulted in the removal of several long-term heads of state, such as Hosni Mubarak of Egypt and Zine El Abidine Ben Ali of Tunisia. The disturbances did not travel as quickly in sub-Saharan Africa as they did in North Africa and the Middle East. Sub-Saharan African leaders remained intact, and demonstrations like the Arab Spring took place only in two countries outside the Middle East: Djibouti and Sudan.

The Arab Spring–Styled Protest of 2011 In Djibouti, the protestors demanded nothing less than the immediate departure of Guelleh, aptly expressed in the phrase “No to third mandate.” The first Djiboutian area to be touched by the fervor of Arab Spring–style demonstrations was the Afar homeland. On 2 February 2011 the people of Tadjoura made a demonstration following the police’s refusal to release the body of Abdallah Mohamed, whose death under torture had been mentioned by human-rights organizations such as the LDDH.55 There were also demonstrations by young men in the city of Djibouti itself. On 1 February 2011 the youth of Quartiers 3 and 5 clashed with each other.56 This clash, which resulted in one death, perplexed the opposition and Djiboutian human-rights organizations, because they could not determine for certain if it had arisen from proand antigovernment sentiments, or if it had been secretly fomented by

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the government as an excuse for imposing a curfew so as to avoid further demonstrations.57 This “clash of youth” in the city of Djibouti continued on 3 February. This time it involved the Quartier Cheikh Moussa and the Quartier Conteneur, and twelve people were injured.58 But on 4 February, a Friday, the “clashes of youth” took a definite shape. After the end of Friday prayers, the youth of the city of Djibouti marched toward the presidential palace and along the main avenues, carrying banners and chanting slogans. Their demands were freedom and the end of the Guelleh regime.59 The next day University of Djibouti students went out to demonstrate.60 Occupying one of the major locations in Djibouti City, Place Rambeau, they demanded reforms in the university, among other things.61 Their demonstration resulted in a clash with the police, leading to injuries and to unconfirmed reports of two deaths.62 The police commissariat in Quartier 1 was burned.63 These events led the government to deploy the republican guard in key areas of the city of Djibouti and to put the military on alert.64 However, this did not keep the youths from going out into the streets. On 6 February, they were out again in force. By midday one of the main streets of the city, Avenue Gamal Abdel Nasser, was occupied, and the youth in various part of Djibouti, particularly in colleges and high schools, clashed with the government forces.65 In the Afar-dominated district of Arhiba, where antigovernment sentiment had traditionally been high, the situation was particularly intense. The police fired live bullets at neighborhood residents who went out to protect the students of the Lycée Technique d’Arhiba. One woman was wounded, and many people were arrested and taken to the Nagad detention facility.66 Despite the government’s use of force, the demonstrations continued. On 8 February a student demonstration killed one student in his school in the area of Balbala.67 Villas were pillaged in the Gabode area. The demonstrations on 8 February were not conducted only by students. It was also reported that prisoners at Gabod were protesting inside the prison about their poor detention conditions.68 The student and youth demonstrations that brought the Arab Spring to Djibouti presented an opportune moment for the opposition. The opposition was not prepared for it, and was as much caught by surprise as the regime itself. It was only after the students and youth injected new energy into the politics of Djibouti that the opposition followed. Shortly after the start of the demonstrations, the UAD leadership held a meeting to organize and coordinate large-scale demonstrations.69 A demonstration was called for 18 February. This massive mobilization

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was justified by the political malice that was poisoning the country and the potential instability for Djibouti and the region.70 The activism of the opposition and human-rights groups led to a series of arrests. On 5 February the disappearance of Farah Abadid Hildid, an active member of the LDDH who had been attending the UAD meeting, was announced.71 Djibouti’s human-rights organizations said that Heldid was being held by the police for unknown reasons, and that his family and friends were not able to reach him. On 9 February, the authorities arrested none other than the leader of LDDH, Jean-Paul Abdi Noel. On the same day, he was charged with participating in an insurrectionary movement, along with Heldid.72 Making this charge, the prosecutor cited articles 145 and 146.4 of the Djibouti penal code, which made participation in an insurrection punishable by fifteen years in prison and a fine of 7,000,000 Djibouti francs (US$39,238). Despite the repression, on Friday, 18 February, after the weekly prayer, masses of demonstrators filed the streets and headed toward the only stadium in Djibouti. The US-based group Democracy International, which was present in the country to give technical assistance in the 2011 election, estimated the number of people as 6,000, while the opposition put it at more than 30,000, and the government no more than 800.73 The government estimate was clearly made to discredit the validity of the protest, whereas the opposition figure was meant to increase its credibility by exaggerating numbers. In all probability, the number of demonstrators was closest to the figure given by Democracy International; by Djiboutian standards, this was huge. In its first hours, this Arab Spring–inspired demonstration was peaceful. The demonstrators and the leaders of the UAD, who made a speech, called for Guelleh to step down immediately. The demonstrators used placards and chants to express their deep dissatisfaction. “No to the third term,” “Ismail Omar Guelleh out,” and “Respect for the constitution, which is tarnished” were some of the slogans that echoed the sentiments of the masses. In addition, the demonstrators embraced a tactic followed in other Arab Spring demonstrations: they declared that they would occupy the stadium until their demand for Guelleh’s resignation was met.74 The insistence of the protestors was met with the heavy hand of the government once it became dark. Around 5 P.M. the cell phones of the major opposition figures stopped working properly, and the government blocked all telephone communication.75 By 6 P.M. the police forces started dispersing the protestors by force using batons and tear gas, while the protestors responded by throwing rocks. Twenty people were

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arrested and two were injured, while the interior minister, Yacin Elmi Bouh, claimed that two trucks were burned by the protestors and one policeman was stoned.76 This chaotic demonstration also led to the brief arrest of the three opposition leaders: Ismail Guedi Hared, the president of the opposition coalition UAD; Aden Robleh Awaleh of the PND; and Mohamed Daoud Chehem, also of the PND.77 The Djibouti state prosecutor, Djama Souleiman, called the leaders enemies of democracy who needed to be imprisoned: “These men are not friends of democracy. It is they who are killing democracy.”78 In the days that followed, attempts were made to continue the demonstration. On Saturday, 19 February, demonstrators went out to the streets and clashed with the police.79 The Saturday demonstration lacked the intensity of the previous day, and there was no major demonstration through the rest of the month. The opposition parties who were based in Djibouti tried to reignite the flame—an effort that was enthusiastically supported by Djibouti exiles in Europe and North America. The opposition asked permission to hold a demonstration on 4 March. This demand was denied by the government. In a letter addressed to the leader of the opposition, Minister of Interior Bouh advised the opposition to change the date and said that the demonstration could not be held on the intended date because the demonstrators had already proved to be violent.80 On the day of the planned protest, the government sent out the gendarmerie in force to block major roads to make sure that it could not take place. The opposition complained, but this action by the government effectively killed any possibility for demonstrating in the streets.81 The opposition both in Djibouti and abroad saw the end of mass demonstrations as additional evidence of the regime’s brutality. But they also considered it an opportunity to save face and retreat into their older, quieter mode of boycotting. Abdourahman Boreh, who from his Parisian exile had independently announced his candidacy for the April presidential election back in December 2010, withdrew his candidacy, which in any case had not been approved by Djibouti’s CENI, the body that oversees elections in Djibouti.82 He justified his action by stating that participating in Djibouti politics when the government has continued its repression would only serve to legitimize its rule instead of being a source of change.83 Other opposition leaders also backed out, such as Aden Robleh Awaleh and Ismail Guedi Hared. CENI’s deadline for political parties to put forward the names of their presidential candidates was 8 March. When the deadline had passed, only two candidates were registered: Guelleh, from the governing coalition UMP, and Mohamed Warsema Ragueh, an independent

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candidate.84 The opposition threw its weight behind Warsema Ragueh and urged voters to back him.85 Many people questioned Warsema Ragueh’s independence, because he was actually a recycled elite who had suddenly appeared as an opponent of Guelleh. Before presenting himself as independent candidate, Warsema Ragueh had been the number four person in the regime and served as president of the constitutional council.86 Those who doubted his independence considered his candidacy an orchestrated ploy.87 The preelection period was not only marred with doubts regarding the opposition candidate. In mid-March, following the anti-Guelleh demonstrations, the government expelled the US-based Democracy International, which had come to Djibouti with a budget of US$2.2 million in order to provide technical assistance and observe the election.88 Its presence was deemed illegal, because it was accused of involvement in the violent 18 February demonstration.89 The real issue was a report that they wrote accusing the government of distributing money and khat in order to buy votes.90 They also stated that the government interfered in the focus-group discussions that they organized and arrested some of the individuals who acted as focus-group leaders. The result of the election was a victory for Guelleh. He was declared to have won 80.58 percent of the vote.91 Once again in the decolonized state of Djibouti, where freedom and equality were thought to be the fruits that its people would harvest from the garden of the state, these dreams had not been realized. In 2011 this hope had been particularly rejuvenated by the Arab Spring, which analysts had called the “fourth wave” of democratization,92 following Samuel Huntington’s earlier description of the demands for democracy in the 1980s and early 1990s as a “third wave.”93 This fourth wave failed tragically as the democratic elections of popular candidates were reversed by military coups d’état, similar to what occurred in Egypt.94 In other countries, regime changes that were brought by the fourth wave led to the collapse of the government and to wars involving external powers, as in Yemen.95 In yet other cases, a dictatorial government survived the uprising by repression, as in Bahrain.96 The case of Djibouti resembles that of Bahrain, where citizens’ demonstrations failed to remove the people in power. At this point, it will be once again helpful to ask how internal and external factors came together to quash the hopes of Djibouti citizens. It is clear that the inherited colonial structures on which the politics of postcolonial Djibouti were built played an important role. Despite the rhetoric of detribalization at the threshold of independence, Djibouti by design remained an ethnically divided state where access to the state

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was distributed between the supposed majority Issa and minority Afar. This colonial legacy was not dismantled by the process of decolonialization; it was still the basis for politics in the 2010s. After all, FRUD’s support for Guelleh’s third mandate was not a complete restructuring of the system but a reinforcement of the prime minister position, which in the independence negotiations in Paris had been reserved for the Afar through the appointment of an Afar vice president. Their demand for better representation through legislature reform likewise took the ethnic quota system into account. A demand for nonradical reform implied the continued acceptance of the Issa domination. The ethnically organized political system tended to fragment resistance and made unity difficult. Instead of coming together to untangle the structure of power, the Issa and the Afar were locked into separate circles of suspicion, which this time found its way into the armed forces of Djibouti. The division went deeper than the ethnic level, into the subclan level: the presidential clan, the Issa Mamassen, viewed the Issa Ogagodan with suspicion because Abdourahman Boreh was one of them. This political deadlock, which started in the colonial period and was allowed to continue in the postcolonial era, also created antipathy between the Issak, the First Lady’s clan, and the Issa Mamassen, who feared that if the presidential family stayed in power, the Issa Mamassen would ultimately be overthrown by the Issak. Beyond the colonial legacy, there was also a great deal of presidentialism and recycling of elites. This meant not only that change was impossible, but that any attempts at change would be systematically disorganized. Boreh’s fall from grace and Aden Robleh Awaleh withdrawal from the governing coalition show this continuous recycling. The elites move back and forth like a pendulum; their politics are based on convenience, not on commitment to the ideological cause of changing the underlying colonial structure. With no ideological anchor, the political elites become prone to swinging between the ruling and the opposition coalitions, making the implementation of the democratization process a difficult if not impossible task. Coupled with the pervasive presidentialism in which people who aspire to political power are systematically sidelined, as Boreh was, the hope of reform can lead only to tragedy. The political tragedy of the 2010s had its own new element: the changing of the constitution. Within the African context this was not an isolated affair, but a course of action that was followed by many African leaders in similar circumstances. Breaking his promise not to be like the other African leaders, by 2011 Guelleh was in the same league as Teadoro Obiang of Equatorial Guinea, who changed his country’s constitution in 1982, 1991, and 2000; Paul Biya of Cameroon, who removed

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all term limits in 2008; Idriss Déby of Chad, who scrapped term limits in 2004 and managed to remain in power despite rebel attacks in 2006 and 2008; and Youweri Museveni of Uganda, who removed term limits from the country’s constitution in 2005. Variously referred to as “Africa’s third-term tragedy,” “Africa’s third-term problem,” and “Africa’s soft coup d’état,” the trend of constitutional change has been attributed in popular literature to factors related to African leaders themselves. The fear and uncertainty that African leaders experience if they lose power, the fact that postpresidential arrangements are not attractive, the lack of effective political opposition, the desire for prestige and authority, the addictive nature of power, and the possibility of being prosecuted for the corruption and crime they committed while in office are all cited as motivations for changing the constitution.97 These are reductionist explanations that attribute the third-term problem solely to the fear, insecurity, and desires of the presidents themselves. They do not provide structural explanations that account for both external and internal factors.

Making Sense of the Third Term: The External Elements In contrast to the more popular and journalistic analyses of the situation, the academic literature on the “third-term problem” emphasizes the structural factors. Writers such as William Reno, Beatrice Hibou, and Robert Jackson argue that the rulers have been able to cling to power because of their ability to co-opt the liberal reforms that took place during the 1990s.98 In other words, African leaders were able to retain power by using their role as sovereign of a nation-state to their advantage. With the rent that they derive from the state in the form of investment, and with the diplomatic protection that they receive from foreign actors, these African leaders have been able to undermine the liberal reform by deliberately undermining the institutions of the state that were supposed to bring democracy. And when these leaders use violence against the populations that they govern, the country’s elections are also undermined. These scholarly explanations have their merits, but they too are reductionist. They assume that the problems of the state can be fixed by liberal reform. Rather than seeing the liberal solution as a type of millenarian thinking that derives from the Enlightenment and is bound to fail, their narrative does not question the romance of the state. Liberalism and the institutions that are supposed to bring these reforms are

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assumed to create equality and freedom within the nation-state framework. The underlying assumption is that if African states are capable of reforming and implementing these institutions, they will be able to catch up with the West, whose democratic states, in this liberal telling, are fine examples of how the romance of the state has been realized. This liberal outlook, and the faith that Africans have put in it, has led to a continuous desire for this kind of civilization and to a mentality, as Felwine Sarr has put it, in which the West has become the yardstick of success and Africans think in terms of “catching up” with the West.99 In addition to dispelling these liberal assumptions by pointing out the broader (and not always positive) role of Enlightenment modernity, it is also necessary to dispel the form of threshold thinking displayed by these theorizations. The underlying assumption tends to be that the interaction between external and internal factors occurred only in the post–Cold War situation, when liberal reform was explicitly pushed as an agenda. This collusion is thought of as an African strategy for avoiding these reforms. Although this is true, it undermines the fact that the interior and exterior have been linked since the colonial period, and that decolonization, rather than leading to true independence, has permitted the role of the former colonial power to continue. The liberal reforms pushed by the West should not be viewed as a hard agenda. Instead, they were used selectively, as the West ignored gross misconduct on the part of friendly regimes while pointing to the illiberal nature of their enemies. In the case of Djibouti, it is easy to see how the liberal reforms were applied if, for example, one looks at the manner in which Djibouti’s regime continued to benefit from international engagement. A case in point is Djibouti’s engagement in Somalia. The regime strengthened its rule as a result of the situation in Somalia—a state whose romance for democracy was clipped by the 1969 military coup d’état that brought General Siad Barre to power, and later by civil war. 100 The RPP-led regime had in fact already benefited from the tragedy in Somalia. The United States thought that Osama bin Laden was hiding in the ungoverned areas of Somalia and Yemen, and they established a military base from which Guelleh was able to obtain millions of dollars as rent. Beginning in 2005, the tragedy of Somalia presented another opportunity. During this period, Somalia was once again gripped by a romance of the state that this time took an Islamic turn. In 2006, after sixteen years of civil war, the Islamic Court Union (ICU), a union of sharia courts whose genesis can be traced to the mid-1990s and whose primary concern was the establishment of law based on Islamic principles, man-

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aged to bring southern Somalia, including the capital, Mogadishu, under its control.101 Described as a miracle, the ICU created peace and stability in the area and particularly in Mogadishu, where warlords were fighting each other.102 The briefly restored hope soon vanished, as Ethiopia intervened to overthrow the ICU. Ethiopia was afraid of having an Islamic state on its doorstep and secretly received support from the United States, which felt the same way.103 In 2006, the Ethiopian forces, along with forces from Puntland, engaged in a protracted war against the ICU in a bid to protect the Transitional Federal Government (TFG), the internationally recognized Somalian government that had been in place since 2004. The Ethiopianled interventions resulted in war crimes and a major humanitarian catastrophe that destabilized the one brief period of peace and stability that Somalis had seen in more than a decade.104 The Ethiopian force was not able to achieve complete domination, however. It drew hard opposition from Islamic groups, including al-Qaeda, that portrayed Ethiopia as a Christian nation and the war as Christian domination of Muslims and called for Ethiopia to withdraw.105 This led to the formation of the African Union force, officially referred to as the African Union Mission to Somalia (AMISOM),106 in 2007 with the aim of protecting the TFG and reducing the threat posed by armed groups, particularly al-Shabab,107 a more radical military group who arose as an offshoot of the ICU following the Ethiopian invasion. The involvement of the African Union reflected the problems of post–Cold War security arrangements in Africa. Western powers who got bogged down in African conflicts, such as the United States in Somalia and the French in Rwanda, attempted to intervene indirectly by (1) renouncing their previous practice of tying their military and security interests to a particular territory (e.g., the French with Francophone Africa), and (2) establishing African peacekeeping forces who would now be sent to the front lines—a tactic that was meant not only to minimize the death of Western soldiers but also to create an illusion of the absence of foreign intervention by claiming that Africans were providing solutions to African problems.108 Loosening the monopoly on security and territory and rerouting it through peacekeeping operations was meant to produce “liberal peace” in a context where states had failed, such as in Somalia.109 This situation provided the regime in Djibouti with a great advantage. In 2011, Djibouti became the third country on the continent to send troops to Somalia under AMISOM—the Hiil One Battalion—the first two being Uganda and Burundi.110 The motive for sending troops, and the benefit for

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strengthening the regime, became clear as soon as the Hiil One touched ground in Somalia. Hiil means “half-brother” in Somali, signifying that the Djiboutian troops were not foreigners but brothers who wanted to help their fellow Somalis. But it soon became clear that the regime’s intention in sending the 800-man battalion was not brotherly assistance but rather obtaining money and military equipment to strengthen its rule. As Paul D. William has pointed out in his analysis of the motives for African states to engage in peacekeeping operations, strengthening one’s rule is one of the chief motivations for regimes involved in peace keeping.111 This was precisely the regime’s interest. The case of Hiil One is a perfect example of a regime whose primary motive is to obtain rent/cash rather than to help a neighboring country. The demands for money started from day one. Upon arrival at the Mogadishu international airport, the commander of the unit refused to deploy to their intended operation area, which was near Belete Weyne, a major city in south-central Somalia 330 kilometers north of Mogadishu. Instead, he began to issue conditions.112 He demanded that barracks should be built for them in the operation area. When this demand was not met and the troops refused to leave the airport, they ultimately had to return to Djibouti by sea. When they arrived, the Djibouti government sent a bill to the United Nations Support Office for AMISOM, the United Nations agency providing logistical support to AMISOM, claiming damage to Djiboutian equipment.113 In the subsequent months, the Djiboutian army continued to make difficult and costly demands. They asked the United States to train 663 soldiers, construct a peacekeeping center in Djibouti, supply equipment for individual soldiers, and provide equipment to transport them to their operation area. These demands were not accepted by the US government directly but were fulfilled by African Contingency Operation Training and Assistance (ACOTA), a US-funded organization created in 2002 by the George W. Bush administration for the purpose of training African troops in peacekeeping and offensive tactics in hostile environments.114 As per the Djibouti government’s demands, ACOTA built a peacekeeping mission training facility at Ali Ouney (20 kilometers from Djibouti City), supplied equipment for individual soldiers, and provided transport equipment. In 2010 alone, the net investment of ACOTA in the Djibouti armed forces was US$6.3 million, almost half of Djibouti’s military budget for that year.115 This was not the only form of rent that the regime was able to procure from the tragedy of Somalia and the romance of reestablishing the state through the creation and protection of a foreign-sponsored gov-

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ernment. In 2010, when Djibouti’s entire annual defense budget was US$12 million, its government sent a US$58 million equipment wish list to the United States.116 The United States reduced this amount to US$13.8 million. When Djibouti finally signed a memorandum of understanding with the African Union for the deployment of troops, the Djibouti government deployed a company rather than a battalion, but still insisted on receiving the US$13.8 million that the United States had agreed to give for the full battalion.117 Somalia’s tragedy became a resource that strengthened the regime. The opportunities that the regime found in the tragedy of Somalia were not limited to the military and legitimacy benefits obtained by sending in troops. The tragedy in Somalia provided another benefit by catalyzing yet another tragic situation. Beginning in the late 1990s, the coastal waters of Somalia, which were the third most productive fisheries in Africa, saw an explosion of piracy—the attack and seizure of ships and people for ransom. In the early days of the Somali war, just before the fall of the Siad Barre government, the Somali National Movement—the armed opposition group that was fighting the government—engaged in what Abdi Ismail Samatar and colleagues called “political piracy,” when ships are captured, looted, or prevented from operating in a particular area in order to weaken the government.118 After the fall of the Siad Barre government and the start of the civil war, this political piracy evolved into other forms. Seizing the opportunity offered by the collapse of the government and the absence of a coast guard, foreign ships from Europe and Asia engaged in “resource piracy.”119 An estimated 700 foreign ships were involved in the looting of fish worth US$450 million per annum.120 In addition to looting, there was also widespread dumping of toxic waste in Somali waters by European companies because it was so inexpensive: only US$2.50 per ton, according to the United Nations Environment Programme, compared to US$250 per ton in Europe. Made visible as a result of the 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami, which forced the containers open and washed them ashore, the toxic substances were found to include uranium, lead, cadmium, and mercury.121 This environmental poisoning led to radiationrelated diseases in the region such as skin disorders, abdominal hemorrhages, and bleeding from the mouth.122 The fall of the Siad Barre government also led to yet another form of piracy, “defense piracy,” in which former coast guard members and Somali fishermen started attacking and seizing the illegal fishing vessels and those who were trying to dump toxic waste. This attempt to fend off the exploiters and abusers of Somalia’s natural resources, which offered a

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livelihood for many people in a situation of severe economic precariousness, led to the popular form of piracy that the Western media and governments have paid particular attention to, namely “ransom piracy.”123 While the toxic-waste dumping and illegal fishing affected Somalis, they were mainly Somali tragedies that did not attract widespread attention. Ransom piracy was different. It was a tragedy both east and west, north and south, and across the entire Middle East, because it took place in the oil routes of the Red Sea and also interrupted the flows of other commodities. The enormous value of the cargoes allowed the pirates to make equally enormous demands. A ransom of US$3.3 million was paid to free the Ukrainian vessel MV Faina, which was carrying thirty-three T-72 tanks, heavy weapons, and rifles. The Ukrainian authorities claimed that these weapons were destined for Kenya, although unconfirmed reports claimed that South Sudan was the final destination.124 Another US$3.2 million was given to Somali pirates for releasing Saudi Arabia’s Very Large Crude Carriers (VCC), which contained two million barrels of oil that at the market price at the time was worth US$100 million.125 Between 2008 and 2009, there were 322 attempted pirate attacks off the coast of the Horn of Africa, 40 percent of the piracy activity that was recorded worldwide, representing an average rate of one attack every thirty-one hours in 2008 and one every twenty-six hours in 2009. The situation was a serious impediment to the circulation of capital, particularly oil, as 12 percent of the world’s oil passes through this region. Following the surge of ransom piracy in the region in 2008–2009, insurance companies increased their rates. The cost for typical coverage reached a staggering US$20,000, compared to US$500 in 2007–2008, a 400 percent increase.126 The surcharge per twenty-foot equivalent unit (TEU) that shipping companies were levying on goods also increased dramatically. For example, the Kuwait-based shipping company United Arab Shipping Company introduced a new surcharge of US$22 per TEU, and CMA CGM, a French shipping company, announced in 2009 that its new rate per TEU would be US$41, compared to its previous rate of US$23 per TEU.127 Ransom piracy forced ships to avoid the area. Instead of passing through the Suez Canal they started rounding the Cape of Good Hope.128 This diversion, which added 3,500 miles to the journey, meant higher costs for the shipping companies, as it required more fuel. Oil, of course, was also more expensive, having more than doubled in price between 2005 and 2008.129 The increased shipping costs affected the regional economy, particularly Egypt, whose revenue from the Suez Canal was expected to drop from US$5.1 billion in 2008 to US$3.6 bil-

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lion in 2010 as a result of the diversion of ships.130 Overall, the global cost of ransom piracy, both direct and indirect, in 2008 was estimated to range between US$1 billion and US$16 billion.131 In the Red Sea region, this alarming situation necessitated the further securitization of space, or what Zoltán Glück, in his theoretical analysis inspired by the work of Michel Foucault and Karl Marx, called the “production of security space: that is, the production of secure space for the circulation of certain ‘desirable’ elements (in this case cargo vessels, commodities and capital) and the suppression of the ‘undesirable’ elements (that is, piracy and the interruption of commodity and capital flow).”132 The production of security space in the Red Sea and the Gulf of Aden donned a humanitarian garb. The major players insisted that the securitization of space was a humanitarian action to address the humanitarian crisis in Somalia—not for the protection of capital. The UN Security Council resolutions that launched the securitization of the Red Sea space and the suppression of piracy, Resolution 1838 and Resolution 1851 (2008), called on states with naval power and regional power not only to intervene but to create a coordinated platform for the purpose of fighting piracy. The UN noted the humanitarian crisis in Somalia and the difficulty that the WFP had faced in delivering food aid to an estimated three and a half million people.133 This union of military intervention and the ideology of humanitarianism, whose primary and underlying interest was actually the protection of the circulation of capital, became a jackpot for the regime. Djibouti, already marked by rentier militarism, hosted many of the forces whose mission was the securitization of space. In 2009, Djiboutian embassies abroad were inundated with demands for operations licenses from private companies that were interested in establishing themselves in Djibouti in order to thwart piracy on the high seas. This massive demand prompted the Djiboutian government to issue Décret 20009-030/PRE on the creation of private security companies in Djibouti. The legal framework gave Djibouti Maritime Security Services (DMSS) the right to “receive, investigate and record” all requests from private security companies who wished to operate in Djibouti.134 The right to license the companies was granted to none other than the president of Djibouti.135 The activities of the private security companies (PSCs) gave the regime a substantial amount of cash, as each company was required to pay a license fee to the government of Djibouti, out of which a percentage went to the DMSS. According to a report from Small Arms Survey, each PSC in Djibouti paid a minimum of US$150,000 per

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annum as a license fee.136 Although the exact number of PSCs in Djibouti was unknown, by September 2010 there were reportedly a dozen of them.137 Conservatively assuming that there were ten and that they paid a minimum of US$150,000 apiece, the regime would have taken in US$1.5 million just in 2010. The regime also received revenue from weapons rental. The regime allowed the PSCs to rent government weapons and carry them on ships for a daily fee. For this purpose the government of Djibouti imported 200 automatic firearms from Malta, including Browning semiautomatic rifles, 30-06 Benellis, .308 Winchesters, and Saiga M3s.138 The exact amount the government was charging per day for these weapons is not known, but one can get a rough idea from the fact that the government also allowed the DMSS to rent weapons to the PSCs, including fully automatic weapons such as AK-47s, AR-10s, Browning BARs, Steyrs, and Dargunov Tiger rifles. The DMSS rented these out for US$30 per day per weapon.139 The DMSS also rented out RPKM light machine guns for US$50 per weapon per day and sold rounds of ammunition for US$5 apiece.140 The tragedy of piracy did not bring only PSCs to the militarized garrison state of Djibouti. It also brought state and multilateral forces. The call of the UN Security Council to state actors, naval powers, and Horn of Africa states emphasized the need for cooperation. This need for partnership in fighting piracy and restoring freedom of movement (which was primarily targeted at capital and its handlers) reflected the newer ideal of neoliberal governance, in which the will of the West/North is dictated not through domination and coercion but through partnership, where involvement and action are made possible through cohesion and the promise of inclusion.141 In this situation, where freedom had become part of the technique of rule, Horn of Africa countries such as Djibouti were more or less trapped into participating in the fight against piracy for fear of being disfavored and marginalized by those whose interests were served by defeating piracy. This tragedy of entrapment, which is part of the advanced neoliberal form of governance, turned out to be quite valuable for Djibouti’s regime. This kind of entrapment was not new, as some of its elements could be seen in the global war on terror, where partnership and support were extracted in the post-9/11 context by the “you are with us or against us” rhetoric of President Bush. The partnership instigated by the tragedy of piracy was admittedly softer in its language but was no less effective, and it was similar in its techniques of producing consent. One of the early forms of partnership came through the initiative of the European Union. In December 2008, the European Union formed the European Union Combined Naval Force (EUNAVFOR), whose opera-

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tion, named Atalanta, was supported by seven frigates, one submarine, aircraft, three corvettes, and personnel drawn from the United Kingdom, France, Spain, Germany, and Greece.142 Djibouti become the regional hub for Operation Atalanta, and an operations headquarters was established. This made Djibouti once more an indispensable partner to the European Union. A report about Operation Atalanta for the British House of Lords in April 2010 described Djibouti as a key partner that played a pivotal role in the military operation in the Gulf of Aden.143 Like all partnerships under the neoliberal form of governance, Djibouti and EUNAVFOR exhibited a lopsided relationship. In the status of force agreement that Djibouti signed with the European Union, members of the Atalanta force were not only exempted from immigration and customs requirements, they were also given complete immunity from prosecution by the Djibouti judiciary and therefore could not be arrested.144 The military forces enjoyed complete freedom of movement, including launching and landing aircraft and sea vessels at will. The regime action was qualitatively different from the practice of shared sovereignty that authors such as Stephen D. Krasner145 viewed as important for strengthening the government of failed or weak states.146 Since Djibouti was neither a failed state nor a weak state, the result was therefore a trade in sovereignty. In Djibouti, this kind of trade had been in effect since the decolonization of the country, when Djibouti sovereignty was realized only by giving its former colonizer various concessions, including a military base, in return for protection from foreign aggression. This can be counted as a tragic situation for the people of Djibouti, since the trade was executed by the elite over whom they have no control. Although many Djiboutians were still hoping to oust the regime for good, the trade in sovereignty strengthened its power. Besides the increased legitimacy that it obtained through the EUNAVFOR, the regime eventually obtained more concrete benefits when the European Union formed the European Union Mission on Regional Maritime Capacity (EUCAP NESTRO). With a budget of 22,880,000 euros for the first twelve months of its existence, EUCAP NESTRO focused on strengthening the maritime security capacity of states in the Horn of Africa and the western Indian Ocean, with an initial focus on Djibouti, Kenya, Seychelles, and Somalia.147 The program meant increased training for the Djibouti army, in this case the coast guard. In addition to its partnership with the European Union, Djibouti also joined the International Maritime Organization (IMO). In 2009 the IMO issued The Code of Conduct Concerning the Repression of Piracy and Armed Robbery Against Ships in the Western Indian Ocean and the Gulf of Aden—commonly referred to as the Djibouti Code of Conduct

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(DCC) because Djibouti had hosted the conference that produced it.148 Its first signatories were Djibouti, Eritrea, Ethiopia, Madagascar, Yemen, Maldives, Seychelles, Tanzania, Kenya, and Somalia. Ultimately the DCC, managed by the Multination Project Implemenation Unit of the IMO, brought into partnership eighteen non-Western countries. Their piracy-fighting partnership was funded by the DCC Trust Fund, which in 2011 held US$1,912,800.149 The formation of the DCC and its trust fund increased the valorization of Djibouti’s space and hence indirectly increased the importance of the regime. In addition to hosting the initial conference, when the agreement was finally implemented it was agreed that Djibouti would host a regional training center, formally known as the Djibouti Regional Training Center (DRTC), to be used for coast guard training, logistics training, and law enforcement training, which the organization hoped would enhance maritime security.150 This training center, for which US$2.5 million was allocated from the trust fund, was the second major training center that the regime was able to extract from the tragedies related to Somalia; the first was the peacekeeping training center that was built following the problematic entry of the Djibouti peacekeeping mission into AMISOM. Because it was agreed that the facility would be owned by Djibouti, the DRTC became a national asset that the government was able to use or dispose of as it saw fit.151 In addition to the initiatives led by the international organizations, individual state-led initiatives also resulted from the tragedy of ransom piracy. Djibouti formed one such initiative with Japan.152 Japan had been directly affected by the actions of the pirates. In 2008, a 1.5-million-ton Japanese oil tanker, the Takayama, was attacked by a rocket-propelled grenade off the coast of Yemen—an attack that was quickly attributed to piracy.153 This attack, together with the fact that 90 percent of Japan’s exports travel through the Red Sea and the Gulf of Aden, propelled Japan to involve itself heavily in antipiracy activity.154 Japan was the largest donor to the DCC trust fund, but even this was not regarded within Japan as sufficient to protect its commercial interests. The disruption that the piracy was causing, and the pressure that the government was facing from the Japanese Shipowners’ Association, led Japan to establish its first overseas military base since the end of World War II.155 In the Red Sea corridor, the most suitable candidate for hosting the Japanese military was none other than Djibouti. Japan’s military base, inaugurated in 2011, provided further legitimacy and additional finances: Japan was to pay US$30 million per year for its base in Djibouti156—a financial reinforcement that the regime need to remain in control.

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The opportunities in the form of both rents and legitimacy were not confined to new sources, such as piracy. The regime also found opportunities in an older source, France, which always played an important role in Djibouti. The next section details the relations of France and Djibouti in Guelleh’s second term and the opportunities that were extracted from this relationship.

Djibouti and France: A New Politics of Africa . . . Alors Encore? Guelleh’s second term corresponded to an interesting period in the politics of France, where attempts were being made to change the country’s traditional relationship with Africa. This attempt began in earnest with a speech by François Mitterrand and had its ups and downs as it moved between conservatives, who wanted to continue relating with Africa through informal and secretive networks, popularly referred as réseaux opaques, and reformists, who wanted to establish clear standards of engagement. After Mitterrand, the reformists won the day when the Socialists won the legislative election of 1997. The new prime minister was Lionel Jospin, an ardent reformer who for the first time in FranceAfrica relations revoked the presidential privilege to decide on African policy by refusing to send troops to save President Henri Konna Bédié of Ivory Coast, the French stooge who had succeeded another long-term French puppet, Félix Houphouët-Boigny, but faced a coup d’état in December 1999.157 The famous réseaux opaques of the corrupt African leaders and conservatives in France was not easily and totally breakable, however. Some of the corrupt African leaders whose existence was maintained solely by France and not the will of the people survived the reformist move partly by engaging in “stability blackmail” (the assertion that “if I go, there will be chaos”)158 and partly with the help of the extensive networks that they had developed in France. Guelleh’s second term (2005–2011) saw the cohabitation of the reformists and conservatives in France, and the rise to power of Nicolas Sarkozy—the relatively young UMP politician from a migrant background. Sarkozy’s advent was expected to be a watershed moment. His speeches on reform, such as his preelection speech in Benin on 18 May 2006, combined with his migrant background gave hope to those who were looking for reform in France-Africa relations. Others argued that Sarkozy was actually an extreme conservative who would make no changes.159 The latter camp was proved right by Sarkozy’s Dakar speech on 26 July 2007, his first speech in Africa as president.160 He attributed the

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tragedy of Africa to the fact that its people had not entered into history, and to their existence in a “natural state” which was marked by repetition rather than progress: The tragedy of Africa is that the African has not fully entered into history. . . . They have never really launched themselves into the future. . . . The African peasant only knew the eternal renewal of time, marked by endless repetition of the same gestures and the same words. . . . In this realm of fancy. . . . there is neither room for human endeavor nor the idea of progress.161

However, the reformists scored their point in his speech to the South African parliament on 28 February 2008.162 There he announced that old defense agreements would be renegotiated and replaced by more transparent ones, without the famous clauses secrètes, which had been used in the past to guarantee the rule and safety of leaders and their families who were friendly to France. This speech was followed in 2008 by the publication of the Livre Blanc—the book that outlined France’s new defense policy.163 The content of the Livre Blanc reflected Sarkozy’s speech, calling for new defense agreements without the clause secrète and including a requirement for France to intervene in case of external or internal aggression. In practice, France’s dealings with African governments oscillated between the reformist and the conservative trends.164 French African policy depended on local circumstances rather than on a unitary vision and policy. As Richard Moncrieff puts it, “the power relation varied according to the different issues concerned and according to the coming and going of ministers and senior advisors.”165 In this situation, where practical issues rather than principles were important, the French establishment became both a champion of change, by pushing for a new agenda in some contexts, and a preserver of conservative values, by engaging in direct intervention and activating the clause secrète. An example of the latter was the 2008 Chad rebellion in which Sudanbacked rebels entered Ndjamena to oust the corrupt French-backed leader Idriss Déby, but were finally defeated because of French intervention, which reportedly included secret supplies of arms and intelligence regarding rebel movements.166 In highly strategic Djibouti, the French followed not the policy of reform but the conservative attitude. France remained the number one partner of Djibouti. This continuity persisted despite the fact that Djibouti was no longer totally dependent on France, thanks to the involvement of the United States since 2002.167 France’s military base still brought in a

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total of US$150 million per year.168 Although France lost on the commercial port front, as both the old port and the new port at Doraleh had been given to Dubai, the former colonial power was still the chief actor in Djibouti’s financial system through its two long-standing banks, which had dominated the financial sector of Djibouti since the early twentieth century:169 Banque Indosuez Mer Rouge (BIMR), which is part of Crédit Agricole Indosuez, and Banque pour le Commerce et l’Industrie–Mer Rouge, of which 51 percent is owned by the French group Groupe Banque Populaire and 33 percent by the government of Djibouti.170 What tied Djibouti to France was not just the formal institutions but also the clause secrète. During the Eritrea-Djibouti border conflict, France came to the aid of Djibouti, although, as we will see, the Djibouti regime was not pleased at the relatively slow pace at which France involved its troops. France responded to this displeasure with an attempt to rectify the problem and appease Djibouti. The French sent soldiers, tanks, and cannons to Moulhoule, the Djibouti military headquarters, and took part in joint patrols of the border.171 Because there was fear of an Eritrean air attack, they also monitored the air space. But above all, France came to the regime’s aid by preparing a resolution for the UN condemning Eritrea for its action.172 The French presence in Djibouti was instrumental in the regime’s participation in AMISOM—which generated a number of opportunities for the regime, as we have seen. French military cooperation in the forms of stage de formation tactique and stage d’aguerrissement commandos helped to prepare the Djibouti battalion for their action in Somalia.173 The first training involved parachutists, and the second involved commandos. In 2011 each of these trainings was given three times.174 Their monetary value cannot be known exactly, as they fall under the opaque and secretive system that France opted to leave intact in Djibouti. However, it is possible to guess the amount by figuring out how much it costs to fly a C-160 Transall, the transport airplane that was used for the parachutist training. According to Clément Cayla-Giraudeau, it costs 17,000 euros to put the plane in the air for one hour.175 According to the same author, the French government spends between 300,000 and 400,000 euros per year on parachutist training using the C-160 Transall, as their training requires at least 200 hours of flying.176 This is just one example of a situation in which French involvement helped the regime to take advantage of opportunities arising from the tragedy of Somalia. That help might not have been given so that the regime would go on and disparage its involvement in AMISOM as it did, but the support of the French remained indirectly important. Their

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involvement in Djibouti and their own interests coincided with the regime’s own operations, allowing it to reap opportunities from tragedies. Another example of an unintended outcome of France’s involvement in Djibouti is their engagement in the north of the country. French involvement in this region was not confined to providing ground and air support for the Djiboutian army during the border clash with Eritrea. The French also took part in the construction of infrastructure as part of the coopération opérationnelle that was directed by the French Ministry of Defense.177 This involvement led to the installation of relays for Djibouti Telecom, as well as the construction of a road 2,000 meters long and 200 meters wide.178 This seemingly innocent, in fact benevolent, construction of relays and roads in the northern region, which had been the repeated site of tragedy resulting from war and government repression, seems only remotely connected to supporting the regime in power, until one considers the role that infrastructure plays in the configuration of power. The analysis of the Invisible Committee, the left-leaning intellectual activists who have analyzed contemporary forms of power and charted possible ways of organizing resistance, informs us that infrastructure locations are sites where modern power resides: Power now resides in the infrastructures of this world. Contemporary power is of an architectural and impersonal, and not a representative or personal, nature. Traditional power was representative: the pope was the representation of Christ on Earth, the king, of God, the President, of the people, and the General Secretary of the Party, of the proletariat. This whole personal politics is dead, and that is why the small numbers of orators that survive on the surface of the globe amuse more than they govern.179

The Invisible Committee is not the only source that draws our attention to the interlinkage between infrastructure and power. The writings of Michel Foucault180 and Paul Virilio181 also address this connection. Foucault sees geography not as natural landscapes but as strategies of power, and Virilio recognizes the centrality of logistics in the configuration of war and in modernity at large. In view of this association between infrastructure and power, it is not at all strange that the road-building and the installation of telecommunication facilities in the north were undertaken by the French Ministry of Defense. The French engagement gave the regime further opportunity to bolster its capacity and power, making the regime presence immediate and immanent in the north. The kinds of opportunities that the regime derived from France’s presence were also revealed when Djibouti and France finally renewed

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their defense agreement in 2011 as part of the new defense cooperation reform that Sarkozy had announced in 2007 and elaborated in the Livre Blanc. In the wider continent of Africa, this renegotiation involved relatively heavy measures that relieved France from defending African state territory in case of aggression. Thus, in Togo the new agreement that the French signed excluded any engagement by the French army, and in Biya’s Cameroon the new-generation defense agreement did not address issues of external aggression and confined itself to information sharing, common military exercises, and training.182 In strategically significant and geopolitically indispensable Djibouti, this was not the case. Although the new agreement states that France will not assure the defense of Djibouti but will participate in its defense, for all intents and purposes the new agreement did not change the heavy involvement of France in Djibouti. Article 4 of the agreement stipulates that: (1) the two parties will regularly exchange intelligence information relating to potential or actual threats to the republic of Djibouti; (2) they will engage in diplomatic and military assessment of threats when they are present and when the Djibouti government so requests; (3) if the Republic of Djibouti is facing military aggression, the two parties will immediately consult each other in order to take appropriate measures; and (4) France and the Djibouti forces will jointly monitor the air and sea spaces of Djibouti.183 In both its spirit and content, what the regime obtained was not a new-generation defense agreement, with France pulling away from heavy involvement, but a renewal of an old one. In fact, the government’s agreement with France had a newer element that provided opportunity. Paradoxically, this new element emanates directly from Djibouti’s border conflict with Eritrea and is related to the clause that specifies that the two countries will have regular exchanges of information. During the Eritrea-Djibouti border conflict, France delayed in mobilizing its troops. This delay was attributed to a lack of precise information regarding the conflict and its nature. This was, at least, the justification given by the French. It was to avoid such a mistake that the clause stipulating regular intelligence sharing, during both war and peacetime, was included in the new agreement—a unique clause found in no other French defense agreement with African countries. In view of its uniqueness, and its direct relation with the border conflict with Eritrea in which so many people died, one cannot help but notice that the regime in Djibouti had scored again, seizing an opportunity that was important for strengthening its rule out of the tragedy of the border conflict. It should be noted, however, that the opportunity was not one-sided. Through its support of the regime, France secured its own place in this

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strategically significant area of the Red Sea. France was able to conduct missile tests in Djibouti. In 2009, the desert area near Arta was used as a testing ground for MILAN F2A, MILAN F3, and Eryx missiles.184 The purpose of the tests was to measure the efficiency of these missiles under very hot conditions.185 It was not a one-time event, but was part of a larger exercise; some fifty missile tests were scheduled in the desert of Arta. This testing was made possible by the friendly relations of France with Djibouti. Live military exercises were the other opportunity that the French obtained from Djibouti. The live exercises carried out by the Thirteenth Demi-brigade in 2010 are one example. Because increasing numbers of French nationals were being kidnapped in Africa, such as the four French mine workers who were abducted in 2009 by Tuareg rebels in a uranium mine operated by the French nuclear company Areva in northern Niger,186 the theme of the live exercise was the rescue of two French families who accidentally went to the conflict area in northern Djibouti.187 In and of itself the exercise would not be worth mentioning, as a similar one could be done in France. What made this one unique and noticeable was that the soldiers were able to use considerable amounts of live ammunition. In the simulation exercise, the French parachuted into the Grand Bara desert while live ammunition (including forty-five mortar shells and three MILAN missiles) was fired in the desert.188 An opportunity of this kind can only be found in the large open spaces of Djibouti. These kinds of two-way opportunities were not the only things that marked the Franco-Djiboutian relations. There were also several glitches that arose from the case of Bernard Borrel. The difficulty began on 10 January 2005 when the French court in Versailles that was looking into the case summoned the head of the SDS, Hassan Said Kahire, for questioning about an allegation made by Ali Ifftin, an officer in Djibouti who ended up as a refugee in Brussels.189 On 20 October 2005, the Djiboutian government followed up with a declaration that halted all judicial cooperation with France on the case.190 This move was the result of two issues: (1) the refusal of the investigating judge, Sophie Clément, to transmit to Djibouti a copy of the dossier d’instruction despite repeated requests from Djibouti to see the file in which its high officials were accused; and (2) the tenth anniversary of Borrel’s death on 19 October, when his wife called a major press conference in which the French state was asked to lift the secret défense label, which was keeping the full document out of the hands of the judges. Matters went a step further on 9 January 2006, when Djibouti filed a request with the International Court of Justice (ICJ). It stated that France’s refusal to transmit the Borrel dossier was in violation of the Treaty of

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Friendship and Cooperation, which was signed at the moment of independence in 1977, and also of the Convention of Mutual Assistance in Criminal Matters, which the two countries had signed in 1986. Djibouti asked France to recognize the competence of the ICJ to resolve the matter.191 This move on the part of Djibouti was called a “masquerade of justice” by Morice, the Parisian lawyer who was representing Borrel’s wife.192 He urged the government of France not to accept the request, as the sole intention of the Djibouti government was not justice but an attempt to find out the contents of the file. The whole affair, he said, was a false show, a masquerade, particularly in view of the fact that the one representing Djibouti in the ICJ was Djama Souleiman, who had been summoned by the French court for forcing witnesses to lie. Morice’s request fell on deaf ears. The French government agreed to allow the ICJ to look at the case, in a letter that the French Foreign Ministry wrote on 25 July 2006.193 While the case was being looked into by the ICJ, newer developments created even more tension. In November 2006, the court at Versailles issued international arrest warrants for Djama Souleiman and Hassan Said Kahire following their failure to answer the summons that the court had issued previously.194 The Djibouti authorities issued an ardent statement on the matter.195 On February 2007, the French judge who was handling the case issued yet another summons, this time for Guelleh himself, who was visiting France for the France-Africa summit, which was taking place in Cannes that year.196 This summons, like the previous ones that had been issued to him, had no significant effect because of his diplomatic status. However, on 27 June 2007 the already sensational case was further sensationalized when a former member of the French security service who was stationed in Djibouti in 1995 stated that Borrel had been looking into illegal activities that were linked to Guelleh.197 Shortly after this explosive testimony, AFP, who claimed that they were able to consult a note des renseignements généraux français (the French intelligence service information’s/notes), asserted that Guelleh was at the time implicated in the trafficking of arms, alcohol, and ivory.198 AFP further stated that Borrel had been asked by Moumin Bahdon Farah, the minister of justice at the time, to investigate the matter, hoping to find evidence that would thwart Guelleh’s bid for a third term.199 Also in June 2007, a controversial and very secretive suggestion of President Jacques Chirac was exposed as a result of the seizure of a series of confidential documents by the investigation judge. The first document, entitled “Entretien du Président de la République avec le Président Ismaël Omar Guelleh, 17 May 2005,” recounted the meeting that Guelleh had with Chirac in 2005 at the Elysée Palace.200 At the time,

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Guelleh was coming from an official visit in the United States, where he had met the US secretary of state, Condoleezza Rice. The note contained verbatim the answer that Chirac gave to Guelleh, who was angered by the Borrel affair and especially by the judge’s refusal to transmit the file. The note reveals a concerned Chirac telling Guelleh that his (Chirac’s) government could not control the French media and judges because they are independent of the government, that the affair had become as annoying for the French government as it was for Djibouti, and that his government would redouble its efforts to contain the situation.201 His comments would have been considered a normal diplomatic answer to a friendly African leader if it were not for the series of remarks that were made in the other confidential documents in the set. A telegram from the French embassy in Djibouti dated 25 June 2005, in addition to noting that the exchange between Guelleh and Chirac had closed a few gaps, states the following: “At the level of the two executives, it was acknowledged and agreed between the two presidents not to get too upset by any statements that might be made in the media on either side.”202 Another telegram from the same embassy, dated 28 July 2005 and detailing the ambassador’s meeting with Djibouti’s foreign minister, states: “He added that the Djiboutian authorities were thinking about our idea of going to the ICJ, and also about the possibility of exploring other paths. We will probably be approached soon about this idea of going to the ICJ, seeing that France would have no objection to it.”203 Another note, from the Direction de l’Afrique et de l’Océan Indien (Directorate of Africa and the Indian Ocean) in the French Ministry of Foreign Affairs, le Quai d’Orsay, dated 29 July 2005, reads as follows: Coming out of his meeting with the PR [President of the Republic], IOG [ Ismail Oumar Guelleh] apparently thought that this business with the ICJ was a mere formality, and that after exchanging messages, they would receive the file in two weeks. . . . Mr. Szpiner [a Djibouti lawyer in France who was close to Chirac] dampened this fine enthusiasm, telling them that they were not at all certain to win before the ICJ.204

A third note, which was a note préparatoire prepared by the Quai d’Orsay relating to Dominique de Villepin’s reception of Djibouti’s foreign minister Mohamed Deleita Mohamed, read: “Nos présidents ont évoqué la possibilité d’une action devant la CIJ, nous n’y sommes pas opposés [They’re talking about the possibility of a case before the ICJ; we aren’t opposed to this].”205 The situation raises obvious questions: What is national sovereignty? What is citizenship? What are West and East? What are Europe and Africa? What is power in Africa?

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Those who prefer to internalize the African predicament are fond of talking about the African patron-client system, of the politics of the belly that is singularly and peculiarly African, and so on. Listing the internal cultural factors that supposedly form the essence of this dark continent of Africa will not, however, lead us anywhere, because no national frame—whether in Djibouti, Togo, or Ivory Coast—exists in isolation. What we observe here is interest reigning supreme over and above citizenship and principle. In the context of Franco-Djiboutian relations, the Borrel case therefore appeared as a glitch. In reality, its circulation in the media had no effect at all on this special relationship that provides both Djibouti and France with special opportunities. The Borrel case did continue to generate controversy. Despite this, it was dealt with in a manner that protected the interests of both states. On 19 June 2007, Borrel’s widow and children had an audience with President Sarkozy. In this meeting, which was held at the Elysée Palace and attracted media attention, Sarkozy assured them of his help and stated that he was only interested in knowing the truth.206 The same evening, the public prosecutor in Paris agreed for the first time that Borrel’s death was not suicide but a criminal act.207 Claude Moniquet, the president of the European Strategic Intelligence and Security Center, hailed the prosecutor’s announcement as the first breakthrough in twelve years on the case.208 In October of the same year, the Djibouti prosecutor, Djama Souliema, stated that the Borrel affair was related to the issue of a French pedophile ring that was implicating French men in all walks of life—a statement that the widow described as an attempt to avoid the real issue.209 In March 2008, Djama Souleiman and Said Hassan Kahire were found guilty by the French court of suborning witnesses, which they did, according to the prosecutor, “pour détourner les soupçons de la république djiboutienne, pour les faire porter ailleurs [to deflect the suspicions of the Djiboutian Republic, to direct them elsewhere].”210 Both were sentenced in absentia to one year in prison. This conviction launched its own chain of events in Djibouti. Ten days later, a court in Djibouti issued an internal arrest warrant for five French nationals: Claude Sapkas (judicial advisor to Aptidon), Patrick Millon (community advisor to Aptidon), Father Aubert (a Catholic priest), Frederic Graziani (a former science teacher in Djibouti), and Thierry Guibaud (a history and geography teacher in Djibouti).211 The state-run media in Djibouti also accused the French of covering up the real issue behind the death of Borrel—a pedophile ring in Djibouti. Most importantly, Guelleh made it to the front page of Jeune Afrique with the explosive declaration, never made before, that “Djibouti n’a plus

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besoin de la France [Djibouti no longer needs France].”212 His declaration, which was part of his exclusive interview, claimed that France had fallen into a secondary position in the country, as they were not investing in Djibouti as much as the United Arab Emirates and the United States were. The focus of his interview was not the arrival of the American military or Dubai investors, but the Borrel case. Here, for the first time, Guelleh admitted that Chirac had asked him to take France to court. Jacques Chirac said to me: In the course of a conversation that I had with Jacques Chirac in 2005, I asked him this question: “You tell me that you have no power over your justice system and there’s nothing you can do for me. Well, I’m unhappy with your justice system. I feel betrayed, I feel dirty. What am I supposed to do? I can’t go attacking Madame Borrel.” He replied: “What you have to do is go and attack the French state in the court in The Hague; that’s what it’s there for. Myself, I’m powerless.” So that’s what we did.213

In view of the prearranged agreements between the presidents not to take seriously the media statements issued by the two states, Guelleh’s statement that Djibouti no longer wanted to prosecute France, as well as the arrest warrants for French nationals, were in a sense playacting. This is confirmed by the fact that relations between Djibouti and France remained unchanged despite the incessant controversies generated by the Borrel affair. On 18 March 2009 the journal Libération published an explosive account about how the African section at the Elysée Palace, which was headed by Michel de Bonnecorse from 2002 to 2007 and then by Bruno Joubert, actually had secret access all along to the file that the judges were sitting on and were actively pushing for the suicide theory rather than the criminal investigation which would implicate Guelleh. This secret knowledge, which was a violation of the independence of the judiciary, was recorded in a 150-page document that was kept at the Elysée Palace’s African section and obtained after an inquiry from two judges, Fabienne Pos and Michele Ganascia.214 This revelation did not change the course of action. In fact, on 29 May 2009 Borrel’s widow and those who were accusing the president and his entourage suffered a setback, as the court of appeal in France acquitted Djama Souleiman and Hassan Said Kahire, overturned their prison sentences, and canceled the international arrest warrant on them without giving any specific reason.215 Less than a year later, in January 2010, Sarkozy, who was not only promising Borrel’s widow to discover the truth but was also promising Africans to change the policies underlying French-African relations, paid a visit to Djibouti. This official

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visit was made not only in the face of mounting evidence of criminal intent in the Borrel case but also at a time when Guelleh was announcing his intention to run for a third term. Sarkozy’s visit was important to Guelleh’s legitimacy. During this visit Sarkozy stated publicly that he “told President Guelleh how much we support him.”216 Subsequently, Guelleh was hosted by Sarkozy in the Elysée Palace after the 2011 election. On the day of his visit, another explosive and sensational comment about the Borrel case was made by a French soldier, Fabrice Paraschos, who at the time of Borrel’s death was stationed in the section of the Détachement Autonome de Transmission (DAT) on the French military base in Djibouti. The DAT was a French surveillance unit for activity in East Africa. Paraschos asserted that the French military knew about the death of Borrel shortly after it occurred; the unit was told that “un homme avait été immolé par le feu par des personnes du nord du territoire à l’aide d’un jerrican [a man was burned alive by people from the north of the territory with a gasoline jerrycan].”217 The soldier’s allegation indicated knowledge that contradicted the official version from the French military, which said that they did not know about the death on the same day but later, after the body was discovered. It also proved that a crime had taken place, which the Paris prosecutor admitted only in 2007 after Borrel’s family met with Sarkozy. This information, like all the other information that was surfacing, did not affect Djibouti’s relations with France. The next chapter explores how the external and the internal interacted in changing the Djiboutian romance of the state to tragedies and opportunities by examining the post-2011 politics of this strategically placed country.

Notes

1. “First Lady Too Fond of Marble,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 21 March 2009. 2. “Battle for Succession Ahead of Time,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 6 December 2008. 3. Ibid. 4. “Arbitrary Tax Demands,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 5 September 2009; “Battle for Succession,” Indian Ocean Newsletter. 5. “Battle for Succession,” Indian Ocean Newsletter. 6. “Boreh Family in the Line of Sight—Djibouti,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 26 February 2009. 7. “Net Tightening Around the Boreh Family,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 7 March 2009. 8. “Boreh Family in the Line of Sight,” Indian Ocean Newsletter. 9. “Net Tightening Around the Boreh Family,” Indian Ocean Newsletter. 10. Ibid.

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11. Ibid. 12. “First Lady Too Fond of Marble,” Indian Ocean Newsletter. 13. “IOG Wants Boreh’s Skin at All Costs,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 12 June 2010. 14. “More of Soprin’s Property Seized,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 6 June 2009. 15. Ibid. 16. “Dominique Decherf Goes on the Attack,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 4 July 2009. 17. “IOG Wants to Smoke Boreh Out,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 4 July 2009. 18. Ibid. 19. Matthieu Rabechault, “Le président djiboutien vise par une plainte à Paris pour assassinat,” Le Point, 16 March 2010. 20. “A Plague on the Boreh Family Assets,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 26 June 2010. 21. “IOG Wants Boreh’s Skin,” Indian Ocean Newsletter. 22. “Government Refuses to Accept Boreh’s French Lawyer,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 18 June 2010. 23. “Lawyers Question Motive Behind Djibouti Court’s Sentence to Grenade Launcher,” BBC, 25 June 2010. 24. “Popular Singer Against IOG,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 20 June 2010. 25. ARDHD, “A écouter ou télécharger: La dernière chanson de Nima Djama,” 24 November 2010, http://www.ardhd.org/affinfo.asp?articleID=12077; ARDHD, “Le dernier ‘tube’ de Nina Djama,” 30 November 2009, http://www.ardhd.org /affinfo.asp?articleID=12096. 26. “The War of Nerves Has Begun,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 1 August 2009. 27. “Djibouti: Key Ruling Party Ally to Back Third Term for President Guelleh,” WikiLeaks, 22 December 2009. 28. “IOG Wants a Third Mandate in Djibouti,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 21 March 2009. 29. “IOG Wants a Third Mandate in Djibouti,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 21 March 2009. 30. “Djibouti: Ruling Coalition Partner Declares Independent Candidacy for 2011 Presidential Elections,” WikiLeaks, 20 December 2009 https://wikileaks .org/plusd/cables/09DJIBOUTI1405_a.html. 31. “Djibouti: Ruling Coalition Partner Declares Independent Candidacy for 2011 Presidential Elections,” WikiLeaks, 20 December 2009 https://wikileaks .org/plusd/cables/09DJIBOUTI1405_a.html. 32. “The War of Nerves Has Begun,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 1 August 2009. 33. “Djibouti,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 13 March 2010. 34. “IOG’s Opposition Looking for Its Path,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 30 January 2010. 35. “Minor Military Incidents in the North,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 8 June 2009. 36. “Djibouti,” Indian Ocean Newsletter. 37. Ibid. 38. “The Army Is Increasingly Torn in Djibouti,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 28 November 2009. 39. Ibid. 40. “Djibouti Parliament Removes Presidential Term Limits,” Reuters, 14 April 2010. 41. “Discours de M. le Président de la République de Djibouti, le 21 avril 2010,” IOG2011, YouTube, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fOT6EvFHYRc. 42. “Stéphane Le Foll,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 24 April 2010. 43. “A Worrying Series of Incidents in Djibouti,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 15 May 2010.

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44. On the 2010 Niger coup d’état see Baudais and Chauzal, “The 2010 Coup d’état in Niger.” 45. On the assertions of Aden Robleh that were reproduced on social media, see Djib News, “Affaire du Colonel ABDI BOGOREH : Suicide ou assassinat?” Facebook post, 23 April 2014, https://www.facebook.com/DjibNews/photos/pb.1594 87277547788.-2207520000.1398322028./289843804512134. 46. For the interview, see “Abdourahman Charles Boreh: Le triomphe d’un escroqué,” YouTube, 14 October 2010 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CbftGzG2BZ4. 47. “Renewed Skirmish Between the Army and FRUD Rebels,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 31 May 2010. 48. Ibid. 49. Ibid. 50. “Djibouti Leader’s Third Term Bid Stirs Within Army,” BBC, 8 July 2010. 51. “Sudden Death Strikes Again,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 28 August 2010. 52. ARDHD, “Flash info: Des précisions sur l’assassinat du Colonel Abdillahi Mouhoumed, numéro 2 du SDS,” 21 August 2010. 53. Ibid. 54. Ibid. 55. ARDHD, “Note d’information du 2 février 2011 (B589), LDDH/Les actes de barbaries se multiplient?” 2 February 2011, https://www.ardhd.org/2011/02/02/02 -02-11-b589-lddh-les-actes-de-barbaries-se-multiplient/. 56. ARDHD, “Depuis des mois la violence entre jeunes des quartiers continuent,” 2 February 2011, https://www.ardhd.org/2011/02/02/02-02-11-b589-depuis -des-mois-la-violence-entre-jeunes-des-quartiers-continuent-jean-paul/; ARDHD, “Radio-Trottoir: Les dernières nouvelles du front par nos correspondants qui sont mobilisés,” 2 February 2011, https://www.ardhd.org/2011/02/02/02-02-11-b589-radio -trottoir-les-dernieres-nouvelles-du-front-par-nos-correspondants-qui-sont-mobilises -bagarres-provoquees-par-le-regime-entre-les-jeunes-des-quartiers-3-et-5-malheu reuseme/. 57. ARDHD, “Depuis des mois la violence”; “Radio-Trottoir.” 58. ARDHD, “Violence à Balbala: 12 blessés à l’arme blanche,” 3 February 2011. 59. ARDHD, “Une manifestation pacifique à Djibouti contre Guelleh, vendredi à Djibouti (Balbala),” 5 February 2011, https://www.ardhd.org/2011/02/05/05-02-11 -b590-selon-le-site-taleex-net-une-manifestation-pacifique-contre-guelleh-vendredi -a-djibouti-balbala-aucune-violence-signalee-en-anglais-djibouti-protesters-against -ismail-omar-geul/. 60. For live footage of the demonstration, see ARDHD, “Alerte rouge: Les étudiants djiboutiens nous envoient 4 vidéos tournées lors de la manifestation du 5/02,” 6 February 2011, https://www.ardhd.org/2011/02/06/06-02-11-b590-alerte-rouge-les -etudiants-djiboutiens-nous-envoient-4-videos-tournees-lors-de-la-manifestation-du-5 -02-nous-les-avons-mis-en-ligne-sur-youtube-sous-le-nom-de-lardhd-pour-garantir/. 61. ARDHD, “Note d’information du 5 février 2011: Manifestation dans la rue devant l’université,” 5 February 2011, https://www.ardhd.org/2011/02/05/05-02-11 -b590-lddh-non-a-la-mauvaise-politique-imposee-a-l%C2%92universite-de-djibouti/. 62. ARDHD, “Nouvelle violence à Djibouti ce samedi. Deux morts par balles?” 5 February 2011, https://www.ardhd.org/2011/02/05/05-02-11-b590-nouvelles-violences -a-djibouti-ce-samedi-deux-morts-par-balles-info-du-ged-ali-iftin/. 63. ARDHD, “Alerte rouge.” 64. Ibid. 65. ARDHD, “Dernières nouvelles des manifestations,” 6 February 2011, http:// www.Ardhd.org/affinfo.asp?articleID=14217 https://www.ardhd.org/2011/02/06/06

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-02-11-b590-dernieres-nouvelles-des-manifestations-13h00-paris-la-lddh-se-mobilise -avec-lardhd-pour-diffuser-en-temps-reel-des-informations-jean-paul-noel-abdi/. 66. ARDHD, “Brève information du 7 février 2011,” 7 February 2011. 67. ARDHD, “Les nouvelles du front des étudiants, des lycéens et des responsables politiques,” 8 February 2011, http://www.ardhd.org/affinfo.asp?articleID=14229 https://www.ardhd.org/2011/02/08/08-02-11-b590-les-nouvelles-du-front-des -tudiants-des-lycens-et-des-responsables-politiques-par-nos-correspondants/. 68. Ibid. 69. ARDHD, “Alerte rouge.” 70. ARDHD, “Communiqué de l’UAD sous la signature de Guedi Harad, pour appeler à manifester à Djibouti vendredi 18 février,” 6 February 2011, https://www .ardhd.org/2011/06/09/09-06-11-b607-communiqu-de-luad-sous-la-signature-de -son-prsident-ismal-guedi/. 71. ARDHD, “Alerte rouge.” 72. Human Rights Watch, “Djibouti: Call to Drop Charges and Release JeanPaul Noel Abdi, President of the Djiboutian League of Human Rights,” 17 February 2011, https://www.hrw.org/news/2011/02/17/djibouti-call-drop-charges-and-release -jean-paul-noel-abdi-president-djiboutian; Organisation Mondiale Contre la Torture (OMCT), “Djibouti: Dégradation de l’état de santé et poursuite de la détention arbitraire de M. Jean-Paul Noel Abdi,” 18 February 2011, http://www.omct.org/fr /human-rights-defenders/urgent-interventions/djibouti/2011/02/d21110/. 73. Katrina Manson, “Pro-Democracy Protests Reach Djibouti,” Financial Times, 20 February 2011. 74. “Djibouti Rally to Oust President,” Al Jazeera, 18 February 2011. 75. ARDHD, “Premier compte rendu et premières photos de la mobilisation du 18 février 2011,” 19 February 2011, https://www.ardhd.org/2011/02/19/19-02-11 -b591-b-premier-compte-rendu-et-premieres-photos-de-la-mobilisation-du-18 -fevrier-2011-a-djibouti-par-lard-journal-realites/. 76. Ibid.; Manson, “Pro-Democracy Protests Reach Djibouti.” 77. “Protests Hit Djibouti; Opposition Leaders Held,” Reuters, 19 February 2011. 78. Ibid. 79. Ibid. 80. Jason Starziso, “Police, Army Forces Fill Djibouti Street to Prevent AntiGovernment Protest,” Associated Press, 4 March 2011. 81. Ibid. 82. On Boreh’s announcement, see Tamrart G. Giorgis, “Boreh Eyes Presidency,” Addis Fortune, 28 December 2010. 83. “Djibouti Opposition Boycotts Presidential Election,” Reuters, 11 March 2011. 84. “Djibouti Opposition Backs Warsema for Presidency,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 5 April 2011. 85. Ibid. 86. “Old Styled Presidential Election,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 7 April 2011. 87. Ibid. 88. “Djibouti Suspends US Election Mission,” Financial Times, 12 March 2011. 89. Ibid. 90. “Country Report: Djibouti,” Economist Intelligence Unit, May 2011. 91. “Djibouti President Leads in Vote, Calls for Unity,” Reuters, 9 April 2011. 92. On the characterization of the Arab Spring as the “fourth wave” of democracy, see Howard and Hussain, The Fourth Wave. 93. On Samuel Huntington’s description of the “third wave,” see Huntington, The Third Wave.

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94. On the democratic hope that emerged from the Arab Spring being crushed by the coups d’état, see Hass and Lesch, The Arab Spring. 95. On the specific case of Yemen, see Hill, Yemen Endures. On the broader failure of the Arab Spring in other countries, see Fraihat, Unfinished Revolutions. 96. On Bahrain, see Shehabi and Owen, Bahrain’s Uprising. 97. For the popular explanation of the African third-term problem, see, for example, Conor Gafey, “Africa’s Third-Term Problem: Why Leaders Keep Clinging to Power,” Newsweek, 15 December 2015, http://www.newsweek.com/africa-third -term-problem-cling-power-403440; Anneke Van Woudenberg and Ida Sawyer, “Africa’s Softer, Gentler Coups d’État,” Human Rights Watch, 3 November 2015, https://www.hrw.org/news/ 2015/11/03/africas-softer-gentler-coups-detat. 98. For this argument, see Reno, Warlord Politics and African States; Hibou, “The ‘Social Capital’ of the State”; Jackson, Quasi States. 99. Sarr, Afrotopia. 100. At independence, Somalia was torn between politicians who envisioned a sectarian government and those who wanted a more democratic government. The latter had the upper hand at the beginning and attempted to shape the state along democratic lines. This attempt involved heavy-handed measures including civil-service reform, asset registration of officials, and the purging of corrupt bureaucrats. This process resulted in the political isolation of sectarian groups, who attempted to remove the democrats through the parliamentary system. When this failed, a sectarian-backed coup in 1967 led to the death of the prime minister and the installation of a military dictatorship led by General Siad Barre. His coming to power eclipsed the romance of democracy that had been hoped for in the first few years of independence. The dictatorship of Siad Barre came to an end in 1991 through the military action of opposition groups who cultivated ethnic sentiment to support their move. Once again, hope was felt to be on the horizon, but tragedy ensued, as the country descended into civil war between tribal warlords. On Somalis’ experiment with the romance of democracy and its eventual failure see Samatar, Africa’s First Democrats; Samatar, Lindberg, and Mahayni, “The Dialectics of Piracy in Somalia.” 101. On the rise of the ICU, see Barnes and Hassan, “The Rise and Fall of Mogadishu’s Islamic Courts.” 102. On the peace that was established as a result of the coming of the Islamic court, see Xan Rice, “Mogadishu’s Miracle: Peace in the World’s Most Lawless City,” Guardian, 26 June 2006, https://www.theguardian.com/world/2006/jun/26 /mainsection.international11. 103. On the United States’s tacit approval of Ethiopia’s intervention, see Lefebvre, “Choosing Sides in the Horn of Africa.” 104. On the war crimes and humanitarian disaster that occurred after the Ethiopian intervention, see Human Rights Watch, So Much to Fear. 105. On the opposition that the presence of Ethiopia aroused, see Wondemagegnehu and Kebede, “AMISOM: Charting a New Course,” 202. 106. On the formation of AMISOM and its mission, see African Union, “Status of Mission Agreement (SOMA) Between the Transitional Government of the Somali Republic and the African Union on African Union Mission in Somalia (AMISOM),” Addis Ababa, 6 March 2007, http://amisom-au.org/wp-content/uploads/2011/09 /Status-of-Mission-Agreement-on-AMISOM.pdf.; United Nations Security Council, Resolution 1744 Adopted by the Security Council (SC), http://amisom-au.org/wp -content/uploads/2011/09/Resolution%201744%20%282007%29.pdf. 107. On the formation and history of al-Shabaab, see Hansen, Al-Shabab in Somalia.

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108. For the Africanization of regional security, particularly the development of peacekeeping initiatives, see Abramovici and Stoker, “United States: The New Scramble for Africa”; Gregory, “French Military in Africa,” 442; Tardy and Wyss, Peacekeeping in Africa. For an example of how Western security and military interests in Africa became deterritorialized in the post–Cold War setting, see the work of Merchet, “Les transformations de l’armée française,” on the French army. In addition, Tony Chafer’s article “Chirac and ‘la Françafrique’” is interesting on the subject of how French African policy, which operated not only through formal institutions but through informal networks, significantly changed following the end of the Cold War and particularly during the Rwandan crisis. 109. In the post–Cold War context of Africa, state building in what the West referred to as failed states was geared toward producing a liberal state and hence a liberal peace. This was true not only in Somalia, but also in other “failed states” in Africa, such as Congo, Sierra Leone, and Liberia. For the link between state building and liberal peace in the post–Cold War context and the shortcomings of this link, see Richmond, The Transformation of Peace and “The Problem of Peace.” For African examples of state building and peace building in “failed states,” see Eriksen, “Liberal Peace Is Neither.” 110. “President IOG Keeps His Promise,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 17 September 2011. 111. Analyzing the motives of the countries who are involved in AMISOM, Williams (in “Joining AMISOM”) argued that they were motivated by three factors in sending their troops: economic support for security service and troops, institutional benefit (i.e., the strengthening of their armed forces), and political advantage. 112. Williams, “Joining AMISOM,” 178–180. 113. Ibid. 114. ACOTA was preceded by the African Crisis Response Initiative (ACRI), which was created in the mid-1990s as part of the process of circumventing direct Western involvement in Africa. Its mandate was to train African forces in peacekeeping and delivering humanitarian aid, as well as for modernizing African armies. Under the Bush administration the ACRI became ACOTA, which added offensive tactics to the peacekeeping elements. For the transformation of ACRI to ACOTA and its relationship to the post–Cold War American strategy in Africa, see Abramovici and Stoker, “United States: The New Scramble for Africa.” 115. Williams, “Joining AMISOM,” 178–180. 116. Ibid. 117. Ibid. 118. Samatar, Lindberg, and Mahayni, “Dialectics of Piracy in Somalia,” 1384. 119. The terms political piracy, resource piracy, defense piracy, and ransom piracy were developed by Samatar, Mark Lindberg, and Basil Mahayni. 120. Samatar, Lindberg, and Mahayni, “Dialectics of Piracy in Somalia,” 1384. 121. “Tsunami Exposes Somalia Toxic Waste,” Al Jazeera, 4 March 2005, http:// www.aljazeera.com/archive/2005/03/2008410112337717173.html; “Waves ‘Brought Waste to Somalia,’” BBC, 2 March 2005; “UN: Nuclear Waste Being Released on Somalia’s Shores After Tsunami,” VOA, 31 October 2009. 122. For detailed investigative studies of how the toxic waste was dumped in Somalia, see the report of Greenpeace, The Toxic Ships, as well as the documentary film on the subject by Paul Moreira, Toxic Somalia. 123. The connections between ransom piracy, toxic waste, and illegal fishing is a debated subject. The majority of the studies on piracy align themselves with the international discourse that sees piracy as an outcome of state failure, a criminal practice that legitimizes itself through the formation of a grand narrative about toxic waste

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and illegal fishing. As Samatar, Lindberg, and Mahayni argue in “Dialectics of Piracy in Somalia,” in doing so they ignore the external factors that caused the failure of the Somali state in the first place, and which present a context for the emergence of all three problems, which have created existential and economic vulnerability in Somalia. In ignoring the external factors, they ignore the perspective of the Somalis, as well as the culpability of external powers, whose role is diminished when the Somali version of the story is unheard. For works that consider the external elements and look seriously at the connections between piracy, illegal fishing, and toxic waste, see Samatar, Lindberg, and Mahayni, “Dialectics of Piracy in Somalia”; Schofield, “Plundered Waters”; Ho, “Piracy Around the Horn of Africa”; Weldemichael, “Maritime Corporate Terrorism and Its Consequences.” For works that replicate the Western discourse on piracy and therefore present a perspective that focuses on internal factors, see, for example, Hansen, Piracy in the Greater Gulf of Aden and “Debunking the Piracy Myth”; Hastings and Phillips, “Maritime Piracy Business Network”; Percy and Shortland, “The Business of Piracy in Somalia”; Bueger, “Practice, Pirates and Coast Guards.” 124. Xan Rice, “Somali Pirates Capture Ukrainian Cargo Ship Loaded with Military Hardware,” Guardian, 27 September 2008; Sam Jones and Chris McGreal, “Somali Pirates Release Ukrainian Arms Ship,” Guardian, 6 February 2009, https:// www.theguardian.com/world/2009/feb/05/somali-pirates-free-military-ship. 125. “Capture of Tanker a New Security Dimension,” Straits Times, 19 November 2008; “Pirates Free Saudi Tanker for US$3m,” Straits Times, 10 January 2009. 126. Chalk, “Piracy off the Horn of Africa,” 93. 127. Ibid., 94. 128. Gilpin, Counting the Costs of Somalia Piracy, 12–13. 129. The 2000s oil crisis, when the price of oil increased to more than $100 per barrel, was caused by several factors, including tension in the Middle East, depletion of oil resources, market speculation, a decline in the value of the US dollar, and increasing demand from emerging powers such as China. For an analysis of the crisis, see Hamilton, Causes and Consequences of Oil Shock of 2007–2009; McKillop and Newman, The Final Energy Crisis. 130. Gilpin, “Counting the Costs of Somalia Piracy,” 12–13. 131. Ibid. 132. Glück, “Piracy and Production of Security Space,” 644. 133. United Nations Security Council, Resolution 1838 (2008), 7 October 2008; United Nations Security Council, Resolution 1851 (2008), 16 December 2008. 134. “Maritime Security Under Scrutiny,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 4 April 2009; Djibouti Maritime Security Services Limited, https://dmss.dj/. 135. Djibouti Maritime Security Services Limited, https://dmss.dj/. 136. Florquin, “Escalation at Sea,” 210. 137. “Maritime Security Companies,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 11 September 2010. 138. Florquin, “Escalation at Sea,” 210. 139. Ibid. 140. Ibid. 141. My conceptualization here relies heavily on the work of Rita Abrahamsen, “The Power of Partnership in Global Governance.” Her analysis of how concepts of partnership relate to new forms of neoliberal governmentality was primarily focused on issues related to development aid initiatives such as the New Partnership for African Development (NEPAD). Her concept of partnership is equally applicable to military partnerships like the one discussed here. In fact, development partnerships and military partnerships both deploy freedom and agency of action as key techniques for supporting the lopsided relationship between donors and recipients.

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142. Chalk, “Piracy off the Horn of Africa,” 97. 143. House of Lords European Union Committee, Combatting Somali Piracy, 10. 144. “Agreement Between the European Union and the Republic of Djibouti on the Status of the European Union Led Forces in the Republic of Djibouti in the Framework of the EU Military Operation Atalanta,” Official Journal of the European Union, 5 January 2009, https://eur-lex.europa.eu/eli/agree_internation/2009/88/oj. 145. Krasner, “Building Democracy After Conflict.” 146. For practices, examples, and debates regarding shared sovereignty in the context of Africa and elsewhere, see Bøås, “Making Plans for Liberia”; Caplan, “From Collapsing States to Neo-Trusteeship”; Maley, “Trust and the Sharing of Sovereignty.” 147. Council Decision 2012/389/CFSP of 16 July 2012 on European Union Mission on Regional Maritime Capacity Building (EUCAP NESTRO), Official Journal of the European Union, 17 July 2012, http://www.europarl.europa.eu/meetdocs /2009_2014/documents/sede/dv/sede121112cd389_/sede121112cd389_en.pdf. 148. International Maritime Organization, Djibouti Code of Conduct, Edition 1, 6. 149. In 2011, Japan gave $14,600,000 to the trust fund; the Netherlands, $72,300; Norway, $40,600; the Republic of Korea, $90,000; France, $49,000; the Marshall Islands, $100,000; and Saudi Arabia, $100,000. On this information, see International Maritime Organization, Djibouti Code of Conduct, Edition 1, 6. 150. International Maritime Organization, Djibouti Code of Conduct, Edition 1; Djibouti Code of Conduct, Edition 3. 151. Ibid. 152. In the Red Sea and Gulf of Aden region, the tragedy of ransom piracy has brought forth multiple responses and initiatives. One such response was the Combined Task Force (CTF) 150(151)—a US initiative which was primarily commanded from the United States Naval Forces Central Command (NAVCENT) in Bahrain. The CTF-150(151) was intended to serve as a multinational platform for monitoring a defined patrol area, or in technical terms a Maritime Security Patrol Area (MSPA). This book will not document all counter-piracy initiatives, but only those that were based in Djibouti and contributed significantly to the strengthening of Guelleh’s rule by providing him financial or nonfinancial benefits. For work that comprehensively describes the anti-piracy activities in the Red Sea region, including the broader area of the western Indian Ocean, see Lehr, “Piracy and Maritime Governance in the Indian Ocean”; Murphy, Somalia, the New Barbary?; Woodward, Crisis in the Horn of Africa. 153. “Yemen: Pirates Likely Behind Tanker Attack,” Stratfor, 21 April 2008. 154. Emmanuel Goujan, “Piracy Rattles Japan to Open First Foreign Military Bases,” AFP, 23 April 2010. 155. The lawfulness of any active involvement of Japan in the fight against piracy was a highly debated topic, because Article 9 of Japan’s constitution forbids the country from utilizing force to solve its international problems. The government line was that the engagement was a lawful act because it did not involve war with a state but the control of criminals. However, the government’s argument based on the criminality of piracy was somewhat controversial as it masked the cooperation with other naval forces. There was also a series of debates over which Japanese forces should be sent out. For a discussion of Japan’s involvement in the fight against piracy and the various debates that followed, see Black, “Debating Japan’s Intervention to Tackle Piracy.” 156. Mohamed Osman Farah, “Japan Opens Military Base in Djibouti to Help Combat Piracy,” Bloomberg, 8 June 2011. 157. On Lionel Jospin’s action, see Chafer, “Chirac and ‘la Françafrique,’” 16. On the coup d’état and its background, see Dozon, “La Côte d’Ivoire au péril de l’ivorité.”

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158. Moncrieff, French Relations with Sub-Saharan Africa, 8. 159. For media discussions of Sarkozy’s immigrant background during the presidential election, see “Sarkozy’s Roots Are Worth Remembering,” New York Times, 5 May 2007; Haibou Bangré, “Nicolas Sarkozy, pourquoi ton père a fui la Hongrie?” Afrik.com, 7 December 2006, https://www.afrik.com/nicolas-sarkozy-pourquoi-ton -pere-a-fui-la-hongrie. For an analysis of his immigration policy since his time at the Ministry of Interior and after his election to the presidency, see Marthaler, “Nicolas Sarkozy and the Politics of French Immigration Policy.” 160. On Sarkozy’s policies and relations to Africa, see Konaré, Petit précis de remise à niveau; Chrétien, L’Afrique de Sarkozy. 161. Diadie Ba, ‘Africans Still Seething Over Sarkozy Speech’, Reuters, 5 September 2007 https://www.reuters.com/article/uk-africa-sarkozy-idUKL05130346 20070905. 162. Élise Colette, “La fin du grand secret,” Jeune Afrique, 9 March 2008. 163. Défense et Sécurité Nationale, Le Livre Blanc. 164. On the oscillation and the tension between the reformists and the conservatives, see, among others, Gounin, La France en Afrique. 165. Moncrieff, French Relations with Sub-Saharan Africa, 13. 166. On that Chad conflict, particularly its relation to Sudan, see Toïngar, Idriss Déby and the Darfur Conflict. On the French role, see Moncrieff, French Relations with Sub-Saharan Africa, 25. 167. “Country Report: Djibouti,” Economist Intelligence Unit, August 2005, p. 17. 168. Ibid., p. 6. 169. For a history of the French banking sector’s involvement in Djibouti, which started in the 1900s, particularly that of BIMR, see Dubois and Roger, Un siècle de savoir-faire à Djibouti. 170. Anne Guillaume-Gentil, “Djibouti/France: Une concurrence bienvenue?” Marchés Tropicaux et Méditerranéens, 24 February 2006. 171. “French AMB to Djibouti on Recent Events,” WikiLeaks, 12 June 2008, htttp:// wikileaks.Org/plusd/cables/0 8DJIBOUTI519_a.html. 172. Cayla-Giraudeau, Djibouti, un état fortin en mutation, 72. 173. Ibid., 75. 174. Ibid. 175. Ibid., 80. 176. Ibid. 177. The French military aid takes two forms: coopération structurelle, which is managed by the Division Centrale de Sécurité de Défense and coopération opérationnelle, which is directed by the Ministry of Defense. 178. Cayla-Giraudeau, Djibouti, un état fortin en mutation, 75–76. 179. The Invisible Committee, To Our Friends, 83. 180. Foucault, “Question on Geography”; Foucault, “Two Lectures”; Foucault, Security, Territory, Population. 181. Virilio, Speed and Politics. 182. Philippe Leymarie, “France–Afrique: Des accords militaires ‘nouvelle génération,’” Le Monde Diplomatique, 11 June 2009. 183. “Décret no 2014-484 du 14 mai 2014 portant publication du traité de coopération en matière de défense entre la République de Djibouti (ensemble trois annexes), signé à Paris le 21 décembre 2011,” Journal Officiel de la République Française, No 0113, 16 May 2014. 184. “MDBA’s Missiles on Test,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 17 October 2009. 185. Ibid. 186. Will Ross, “French Workers Kidnapped in Niger,” BBC, 23 June 2008.

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187. “Life-Size French Military Exercise Djibouti,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 30 January 2010. 188. Ibid. 189. “Expulsion de 6 coopérants français, l’émetteur de RFI coupé,” Marchés Tropicaux et Méditerranéens, 28 January 2005. 190. “Djibouti ne coopérera plus avec la France sur l’affaire Borrel,” Marchés Tropicaux et Méditerranéens, 28 October 2005. 191. “Djibouti: La Cour International de Justice saisie,” Marchés Tropicaux et Méditerranéens, 20 January 2006. 192. Brigitte Vital-Durand, “Une mascarade de justice,” Libération, 14 August 2006. 193. International Court of Justice, “Certain Questions of Mutual Assistance in Criminal Matters (Djibouti v. France), Order of 15 November 2006,” I.C.J. Reports 2006, p. 159. 194. “Premiers mandats d’arrêts,” Marchés Tropicaux et Méditerranéens, 6 October 2006. 195. Ibid. 196. “Le président djiboutien convoqué dans l’affaire Borrel,” Le Figaro, 14 February 2007. 197. “Djibouti: Le juge Borrel aurait enquêté les trafics d’Ismaël Omar Guelleh,” Marchés Tropicaux et Méditerranéens, 27 July 2007. 198. Ibid. 199. Ibid. 200. Brigitte Vital-Durand, “Affaire Borrel: Chirac a aidé Djibouti aux dépens de la justice,” Libération, 12 June 2007. 201. Ibid. 202. Ibid. Author’s translation. 203. “M. Chirac serait intervenu pour aider Djibouti dans l’affaire Borrel,” Le Monde, 12 June 2007. Author’s translation. 204. Vital-Durand, “Affaire Borrel.” Author’s translation. 205. “M. Chirac,” Le Monde. Author’s translation. 206. “La mort du juge Borrel: Une affaire criminelle,” Radio France Internationale, 19 June 2007. 207. Ibid. 208. Claude Moniquet, “Borrel: The Truth, Twelve Years Later!” European Strategic Intelligence and Security Center, 20 June 2007. 209. “Affaire Borrel: Djibouti évoque une piste pédophile,” L’Obs, 18 October 2007. 210. “Premier condamnation dans le procès Borrel,” Marchés Tropicaux et Méditerranéens, 21 March 2008. 211. “Borrel Case: Djibouti Accuses French Nationals of Pedophilia,” WikiLeaks, 13 April 2008, https://wikileaks.org/plusd/pdf/?df=84067. 212. François Soudan, “Ismail Omar Guelleh: Djibouti n’a plus besoin de la France,” Jeune Afrique, 3 February 2008. 213. Ibid. Author’s translation. 214. Guillaume Dasquie, “Affaire Borrel: Révélations sur les manips de l’Elysée,” Libération, 18 March 2009. 215. “France Acquits Djibouti Officials,” BBC, 29 May 2009. 216. “Sarkozy Gave Guelleh His Benediction,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 20 January 2010. 217. Romain Renner, “L’armée aurait été informée dès 1995,” Le Figaro, 21 December 2011.

7 Dashed Hopes for Change

ALTHOUGH THE RULING PARTY MANAGED TO WIN THE 2011 election and remain in power through a combination of external and internal factors, the events of February 2011, which came with the Arab Spring uprisings, shook the political system of Djibouti and created anxieties among its officials. In the postelection period, Djibouti officials dismissed the fervent street demonstrations in Djibouti, comparing them to the riots in the same year in London and Birmingham.1 It was asserted that the rioters in Djibouti were being misguided by the politicians who hoped to carry the Arab Spring to Djibouti. The characterization of the Djiboutian youth was similar to British prime minister David Cameron’s description of the London rioters as criminals who must be confronted. Analyzing the riots in the United Kingdom and the Middle East, the French philosopher Alain Badiou declared that such comments are not mere coincidence or innocent remarks, but the comments of leaders who are acting not as the people’s representatives but as executives who are in the service of capital.2 He claimed that Western leaders were not overseeing a real democracy but a phantom democracy, which forces people to choose among the various executives of capital, whose job is to defend the interests of capital and neoliberal democracy: “Property, Occidentalism, Laicism.”3 He says that in the West, state leaders who happily talk about democracy are also quick to target the poor and the residents of the slums, and that this is picked up by the reactionary media, which are perfectly willing to label the rioters as terrorists, hooligans, and criminals. These Western leaders were secretly worried, however, that their interests were being challenged, and they worked with the governments 153

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that would guarantee that any reforms would not amount to a delinking from the West.4 This pattern was seen throughout the Arab world. The West intervened militarily to guarantee that the people who came to power as part of the reform were friendly to the West. In places like Libya and Syria they cultivated and sponsored freedom fighters, some of whom, to the embarrassment of their sponsors, turned out to be members of al-Qaeda.5 In Egypt, the West was threatened by the election of a president, Muhammad Morsi, who was a member of the Muslim Brotherhood. The Western powers therefore tacitly approved the military coup d’état led by Abdel Fattah al-Sisi. When it succeeded, instead of condemning it, they rushed to offer him trade deals, including a €5.2 billion arms sale by the French.6 According to Badiou, military intervention and tacit support for a military coup d’état were not the West’s only methods. To counter the widespread belief that the existing regimes were supporters of Western national interests in general and capital in particular, Badiou argues that the Western powers encourage “democratic elections” that were nothing more than a strategy for maintaining the status quo. Corrupt third world regimes, whose existence depends entirely on the various forms of rent that they receive from the West, have become skilled in staging socalled reforms that are supposed to bring democracy, liberty, and change.7 These reforms often amount to nothing more than a simple change in the constitution and a promise to conduct a fair election. Their only effect, Badiou tells us, is to further entrench a phantom democracy or to pull the country further into the sphere of capital, condemning the masses to a slavish, impoverished, unfree existence, while those at the top continue their corruption.8 Post-2011 Djibouti is a case where reform, not war, was deployed to control an apparent threat. As we saw in the last chapter, partnership was already being used as a tool for entrenching the Djiboutian elite, the interests of capital, and the influence of the West in a time of uncertainty and change. In this chapter, we see how reform was used for the same ends. The reforms allowed the regime to remain in power. Amid the anxiety of post–Arab Spring Djibouti, a novel thing happened in the local municipal elections that were held on 10 February 2012. The major opposition parties refrained from participating, so that UMP was competing with candidates who either presented themselves as independent or attached themselves to a newly formed party. In the city of Djibouti, where three-fourths of the country’s population lives, the UMP was running against a newly formed party, Rassemblement pour l’Action, la Démocratie et le Développement (RADD), which was led by

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a certain Abdourahman Mohamed Guelleh, popularly known as Abdourahman TX.9 Similarly, in the rest of the regions the UMP was competing against independent candidates, such as Mohamed Hassan Moussa in Arta and Said Ali Miguil in Dikili.10 In the run-up to the election, the independence of these candidates was questioned, as some of them were known to be close to those who were in power.11 Despite the rumored ties, the UMP was in fact competing with independent candidates who were newcomers and unseasoned in the political games of Djibouti. This led many people to predict that the UMP would again score victory.12 The historic results astonished everyone. For the first time in the history of Djibouti elections, the ruling coalition was defeated in major districts, including the capital city, where the independent candidate Abdourahman Mohamed Guelleh became the mayor of Djibouti. Given the history of election results in Djibouti, some observers believed that this win was actually permitted by the regime in an attempt to simultaneously appease the country and sideline the more seasoned politicians who were capable of organizing the population. It cannot be known for certain whether the success of the opposing candidate was a tool used by the regime or a genuine victory. In a country where the regime has repeatedly shown its ability to win elections by resorting to unfair tactics, a defeat at this juncture looks like a deliberate defeat, expressing the government’s fear of a repeat of Arab Spring–style demonstrations and its willingness to loosen its grip on power slightly in order to calm the society. The events that followed the 2012 election support this thesis. The regime engaged in various reforms at different levels. Within the governing party, particularly at the level of the RPP, extensive changes were undertaken. In an extraordinary meeting on 20 September 2012, the party reinvigorated its executive committee by admitting ten new personalities, some of whom were the heads of major government ministries who had access to substantial financial resources.13 The new members included the minister of finance, Ilyas Moussa Dawaleh; the minister of justice, Ali Farah Assoweh; and the secretary of state for solidarity, Zahra Youssouf Kayad. The RPP reforms also restructured and reshuffled the top echelons of the party, a sensitive undertaking.14 Dileita Mohamed Dileita, the Afar prime minister who was the deputy chair of the party, was replaced by Abdoulkader Kamil Mohamed, an Afar who had been minister of defense in the government that was formed after the 2011 election.15 The position of RPP secretary-general, previously held by Idris Arnaoud, was given to Ilyas Moussa Dawaleh.16 It was hoped that these changes would revive the core of the ruling

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coalition, which had been stagnating—a state of affairs that was attributed to nonpayment of membership fees, ineffective party education, lack of transparency, and dictatorial tendencies that did not allow the circulation of opposing or conflicting ideas.17 On the national level, the government amended the Djibouti electoral law no. 1/AN/92, which had established the majority-takes-all system for the sixty-five parliamentary seats. The amendment established an electoral system of proportional representation. This meant that, for the first time in Djibouti electoral history, the opposition had a real chance of winning a parliamentary seat, because 20 percent of the seats were reserved for minority parties that obtained at least 10 percent of the vote. This new reform, combined with the successes of independent candidates in the 2012 election, reinvigorated and reenergized the detractors of the ruling party and led to the restoration of old political linkages and the formation of new ones. In this rejuvenated atmosphere, where the air seemed to be fresh and breathable for the first time since Guelleh had promised “a new breath of life” back in 1999, two trends were visible: one secular, another religious. The first trend was marked by the metamorphosis, or rather the realignment, of the old, established political parties that had been boycotting elections since 2003. Seeing that they now had a chance to create a new chapter in the history of the opposition struggle, the old parties decided to participate in the legislative election scheduled for 22 February 2013.18 As part of their preparation, they formed a new opposition coalition, the Union Sacrée pour le Changement (USC), at the end of 2012.19 Composed of the ARD, the PND, and the PDD, this new coalition was soon renamed the Union pour le Salut National (USN) and incorporated the UDJ of Ismail Guedi Hared; the PND of Aden Robleh Awaleh; the PDD; the MRD; and a new party, the Centre Démocratie Unifié (CDU). This revival of the old parties was accompanied by the revival of the religious ulemas and scholars—a “new” tendency that can be considered the second trend in post-2011 elections. The Djiboutian state had been interested in Islam since the colonial period, and attempts were made by state power holders to organize and reshape it.20 Islam was also used by believers to instigate anticolonial discourse and resistance, such as in the interwar period, when the French presence in Djibouti was contested by the Italians, who aspired to expand their East African colonial empire.21 Since the establishment of modern political parties, during both the colonial and the postcolonial periods, Islam had played a passive role and was not directly involved in political agita-

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tion. This passive tendency changed in the post-2011 period, when certain Djibouti Muslim scholars who were trained in Islamic countries such as Sudan and Egypt become increasingly involved in making not only moral and religious pronouncements but also political commentaries that sought to change the state through public preaching. Their tactics included face-to-face interactions as well as sermons that were circulated in social media and by means of audiovisual materials such as DVDs and CDs. This new trend corresponded to a growing trend in the rest of Africa, in which “new Muslim intellectuals,” defying the older tradition of ulemas generating and interpreting Islamic knowledge, were becoming a source of authority.22 It also matched the wider trend in the Arab world in which Islamists assumed power in places like Egypt after mass demonstrations and years of organization.23 Although this new trend was visible everywhere because of its use of media, it was centered in the al-Rahma Mosque in the city of Djibouti, where two of the key figures of the movement, Abdourahman Souleiman Bashir and Abdourahman Barakat God, frequently preached.24 It was also connected to a charitable organization, L’association Al Birri, which was established as an nongovernmental organization at the height of the civil war in April 1994 and earned the respect of government and society by assisting people affected by the 21 November 1994 flood that covered 80 percent of the city of Djibouti.25 This Islamist movement made its formal entrance into Djibouti politics when six of its members sent a formal letter to Guelleh, urgently calling upon him to adjust the workings of the government.26 This demand, which captured the attention of the government, was followed by the formation of a formal political party, the Mouvement pour le Développement et la Liberté (MoDeL), headed by Sougueh Ahmed Farah.27 The party soon tried to legalize itself by registering at the Ministry of Interior. As a result of these two trends—the revival of older parties and the rising influence of Islamism—Djiboutians, at the threshold of 2012, were facing two romantic visions that promised to bring change and a better future. The first was a secularist vision that emphasized equality of citizens and democracy, but in which religion did not play a central role. The second was an Islamist romantic vision that accused the current government of political repression and the moral and economic decadence of society, which they said could be altered by mass movements based on Islamic brotherhood and led by Muslim intellectuals.28 The two trends did not agree on the intensity of the insurrection and the methods to be used. In both the secularist and the Islamist camps, some argued for a violent and immediate insurrection that would immediately

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destroy the existing system. On the secularist side, the armed FRUD— which did not directly participate in the USN but informally backed it— represented the preference for violence, while the Islamist camp represented by Abdourahman Souleiman Bashir advocated rapid action through mass insurrection.29 In the moderate part of the Islamist camp, a gradual takeover of the system was advocated by Hamoud Abdi Sudan, a professor of Arabic studies who was trained in Sudan and at one point served as minister of Islamic affairs and religious endowments, and Omar Ismail, one of the first Djiboutians to graduate from al-Azhar University in Cairo. Omar Ismail also held a PhD from Sudan, and had served as director of the Diwan-Az-Zakat.30 Irrespective of their orientation (secular vs. Islamist) and the methods of change that they advocated (immediate vs. gradual), all parties believed that the possibility of change was on the horizon, finally achievable. The period between the announcement of the change in the electoral law and the 22 February 2013 legislative election was marked by this enthusiasm. Daher Ahmed Farah of the MRD, in self-imposed exile in Belgium for the previous ten years, flew back to Djibouti on 13 January 2013 to take an active part in the politics of the country.31 The opposition, following Guelleh’s assertion in Jeune Afrique that there was no media repression in Djibouti and that the government was willing to tolerate opposition media, including broadcast media,32 established a bimonthly magazine, Le Temps, and a radio station, La Voix de Djibouti.33 Hoping for the realization of the romance of the state, the people of Djibouti took a new interest in opposition politics, now represented by the USN. The opposition cause became particularly invigorated when the government refused to give a license to MoDeL and therefore effectively barred them from participation in the election. This move on the part of the government only served to strengthen the opposition camp, as the Islamists who were at the center of the MoDeL now joined hands with the USN and campaigned against the government using the USN platform. During the election campaign, which began on 7 February 2013,34 the preaching of Islamists like Abdourahman Souleiman Bashir gathered hundreds of Djiboutians35—an achievement that the secularist USN could not have easily matched with their old message, which made no reference to Islamic history and practices. The Islamist message in the USN campaign not only promised a romantic future but also reactivated the Djiboutian romance with the Islamic past, when the worldwide Muslim community (the umma) was thought to have been united under one Islamic caliphate. Looked at more closely, however, the USN

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alliance was shaky. Internally, tension arose between its Afar and Issa members when the Afar noticed that government soldiers of Issa background had been included in the candidate list upon the recommendation of Ismail Guedi Hared. This was a controversial move because of the alleged history of repression of the Afar community in the north of the country, including their alleged participation in the killing of Ali Houmed Souleh, the qadi of the one-time rebel stronghold of Randa, on 25 June 1995.36 This affair also created tension between Ahmed Yousouf’s ARD and Ismael Guedi Hared’s UDJ.37 Their relationship had been difficult right from the beginning because they could not agree on who should top the list of candidates submitted for the city of Djibouti.38 This tension, together with the contemplation of what would happen to the Islamist-secularist alliance after they won the election, cast the future viability of the USN into doubt. The potential crisis of the USN did not, however, affect its vitality in the electoral context; its campaign rallies attracted large numbers of people. This vitality led commentators to describe the 2013 election as the hardest challenge the government had seen in ten years.39 However, the hope for the realization of the romance of the state among the wider populace of Djibouti was almost immediately intertwined with a looming tragedy. This one-step-forward, one-step-backward pattern of Djibouti politics, which has paralyzed the country since its independence, is discussed in the following section.

One Step Forward, One Step Backward: Repression Without Rules The changes in the electoral rules that the regime was willing to make after the 2011 election represented a significant advance by any measure. It was indeed a highly symbolic legal step that reflected the hope of many that they were coming closer to the romance of living in harmony, equality, and freedom in the modern nation-state. The regime resorted to violence and repression both before and after the election. It began when the UMP offered a political opening by accepting its losses in the 2012 municipal elections. One of the earliest victims of this repression was a journalist at La Voix de Djibouti, Farah Abadid Hildid. Shortly after the municipal election, Hildid was abducted by the Djibouti security service while waiting for a meeting in the city of Djibouti. He was blindfolded, taken to an unknown place, tortured, and repeatedly told that he should stop reporting on the government and its security forces.40

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This was Hildid’s third abduction, and his claim of torture was repeatedly proved by physicians who examined him.41 In August 2012, Houssein Ahmad Farah was arrested. Like Hildid, Farah worked as a correspondent for La Voix de Djibouti.42 He was held incommunicado for several days without being charged, prompting Reporters sans Frontières (RSF—Reporters without Borders) to write a letter to the minister of justice, Hassan Darar Houffaneh.43 What La Voix de Djibouti was facing was not only the imprisonment of its correspondents but systematic censorship from the government.44 The government blocked the websites of the opposition as well as the sites of La Voix de Djibouti. Because the broadcaster was an internet radio station based in Belgium, Djiboutians were not able to hear the message of the opposition—a situation that they tried to bypass by creating a mirror page hosted on the website of RSF.45 Because the Muslim intellectuals of Islamist orientation were also challenging the regime, they became targets as well. Even before the intensification of the Islamist movement, the Djibouti government had been trying to govern the affairs of the Muslim community. When Guelleh first came to power in 1999, a Ministry of Muslim Affairs, more formally referred to as the Ministry of State for Charitable and Religious Affairs, was established.46 Its task was to define the nature of Islam in Djibouti by taking Djibouti history into account and regulating the propagation of Islam. In 2004, the responsibility of the ministry was expanded by the creation of a special high commission within it. Known as the High Islamic Council, it was charged with controlling the following: (1) the High Fatwa Authority, which is responsible for giving religious answers to problems; (2) the Da’wa Committee on Islamic Orientation, which is focused on the nature of religious education in general and the propagation of Islamic preaching; and (3) the Mosque Council, which oversees the functioning of the mosques and controls the khutbah, the sermons delivered during the weekly Friday prayers. In light of the newfound political courage of Muslim intellectuals, the government intensified its existing measures for controlling and governing Islamic activity. On 9 October 2012, Djibouti’s council of ministers approved a bill that strictly controlled the delivery of Friday sermons. In the new arrangement, sermons were to be delivered to the imams every Thursday by the Ministry of State for Charitable and Religious Affairs so that they could be read during the next day’s prayers.47 In November 2012, the government briefly detained two of the leading Islamist figures, Abdourahman Barakat God and Abdourahman Souleiman Bashir, who

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were actively preaching against the government and refusing to follow the texts distributed by the ministry.48 Government repression reached a new height after the February 2013 elections. This was the first election under the new law that guaranteed the opposition 20 percent of the legislative seats if they obtained at least 10 percent of the vote. Immediately before the election day, Guelleh called on the population to reject the USN, whom he described as antidevelopment and antiunity forces that would interfere with Djibouti’s progress: “The opposition candidates want to slow down the country’s socioeconomic development. These are people who are openly opposed to national unity, and they have been joined by religious leaders who are misusing their role in society, as well as by some rich people who have lost all credibility on the political scene.”49 The results of the election utterly disappointed the opposition. The USN was rejected by a small margin. The minister of interior, Hassan Darar Houffaneh, declared that the UMP had won the election with 49.39 percent of the vote, with the USN at 47.6 percent.50 The UMP announced this as a genuine victory and as an indication that the people of Djibouti had rejected the forces of disunity and chosen the road of socioeconomic development and progress. The opposition called the results a farce.51 Daher Ahmed Farah stated in an interview that the election had been marred by massive fraud.52 The opposition claimed that the government security forces were made to vote repeatedly and that electoral officials had shifted votes from the USN to the UMP.53 They also alleged that in some places opposition observers were chased out of polling stations and thus were unable to observe the casting and counting of the votes.54 The fact that the voting began an hour later than scheduled was also seen by the opposition as a tactic of the ruling party to use the time to stuff the ballot boxes.55 The USN not only rejected the election result but also called for a protest, which the government viewed as illegal. On 25 February 2013, the day of the protest, police surrounded the designated demonstration area and tried to prevent protestors from getting to it. The blockade cornered the demonstrators, who numbered around 200, on a bridge near Belbela, an opposition stronghold in the city of Djibouti.56 The police clashed with the demonstrators and some 300 people were arrested.57 The protest continued the next day, joined by university and high school students. The government arrested some of the key opposition figures, particularly the Islamists, which agitated the demonstrators even more. The arrestees included Abdourahman Bashir, Abdourahman God, and Guirreh Maydal, the Islamists who had campaigned against the government

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on the USN platform when the government refused to legalize MoDeL.58 The government also put the main secularist leaders of the USN—Daher Ahmed Farah, Ismail Guedi Hared, and Ahmed Youssouf Houmed under house arrest.59 For the demonstrators, the actions of the regime added insult to injury. As one protestor put it in an interview with Reuters, the feeling was that “not only did they steal our election victory, they’re throwing into jail the people we voted for.” This sense of betrayal and repression emboldened the demonstrators further. On 1 March 2013, a Friday, the protestors clashed once again with the police. Demonstrators threw petrol bombs and chanted for the release of their leaders.60 The Friday demonstration led to further crackdowns and the government made further arrests. On 5 March 2013, Daher Ahmed Farah, the USN spokesperson, was arrested. USN president Ahmed Yousouf Houmed was also taken into custody.61 Besides the arrests, a report issued by the Fédération Internationale des Droits de l’Homme (FIDH) stated that eight people had been killed by the regime. It also confirmed that 850 people were incarcerated in the detention center of Magad and eighty-two others in the infamous Gabod prison.62 Neither the protests nor the FIDH report slowed down the action of the government. In an interview with Voice of America (VOA), Guelleh accused the opposition leaders of fomenting violence as a prelude to plunging the country into civil war and urged them to use legal avenues for contesting the election results.63 By “legal avenues,” Guelleh meant the Constitutional Council. Unable to engage in further protest because of the arrest of its leaders and the violence committed by the government, the opposition did indeed go to the constitutional court to appeal the result. The court automatically rejected their appeal on technical grounds: the appeal had been submitted eleven days after the election while the law required the complaint to be made within ten days.64 The opposition read this rejection as a sign that the USN had indeed won the election and that the government was resorting to its now predictable tactic of sidelining the opposition. Once again, the hope for the realization of the romance of the state that was presented by both secularists and Islamists, after ten years of election boycotts by the opposition, was a tragedy. Not only was their court appeal rejected, but their arrested leaders received prison sentences. On 10 March 2017, the Islamist leaders Abdourahman Bashir, Abdourahman God, and Guirreh Maydal were each sentenced to one year and six months in prison for the crimes of violence and vandal-

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ism.65 The secularist leaders of the USN were also found guilty but were mostly spared long-term incarceration. Daher Ahmed Farah, who was found guilty of instigating a rebellion, was given a suspended sentence.66 But it was not long before he was dragged into court again and received a new sentence.

The Interim Period Politics: Between Arrest, Litigation, and Negotiation In Djibouti politics, the period from 2013 to 2014 constitutes an interim. In a sense, formal competition was suspended, given that the next election cycle was three years away, in 2016. The regime spent time dealing with the opposition and trying to influence their movement. It employed a consistent strategy and three main tactics for subduing, but not dissolving, the opposition. The idea was not to bring it to its knees and eliminate it, but rather to create a manageable and fairly weak opposition that would not strongly challenge the regime, but would sustain it by their routine and docile presence. This strategy was necessary for several reasons: to make Djibouti look like a democracy in which opposing voices were always heard; to maintain the legitimacy of the ruling party; and, finally, to avoid a situation where the ruling party candidate would be running unopposed, as had happened in the 2011 election. The three tactics used were routine and arbitrary arrests, litigation, and negotiation. At first glance, these tactics may appear contradictory. And so they are, in legal terms. Litigation respects the rule of law, but arbitrary arrests do not. In theory, neither arrests nor litigation can accommodate negotiations, as negotiation implies an attempt to settle political problems by bargaining, without resorting either to the courts or to repressive measures. In African contexts, as the work of Philip Roesseler has shown, this tactic of switching between the extremes of repression/violence and negotiation has been regularly used as a way of arriving at short-term peaceful solutions to political situations whose outcome is a specific form of government, where the sharing of power, without direct elections, has become routine.67 The political history of Djibouti exhibits a similar process, where armed struggle with FRUD was complemented by negotiations and by bringing various factions from the opposition into the government at different times. The politics of the post-2013 interim period were, in a sense, a replay of the old government tactics and, as we shall see, a way of creating factions among the opposition and its supporters. During the interim period, the three tactics were applied almost simultaneously, but to different degrees on different people within the

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opposition. To a certain extent they are geographically specific, because they are not applicable in certain places. Arbitrary arrest, for example, cannot be used on the European diaspora: not only are they beyond the reach of the Djibouti government, but the rules of the political game elsewhere do not allow it. In analyzing the use of the three different tactics, therefore, it is important to understand the specific circumstances of each case. In the interim period under discussion, arrests became routine, more frequent than before, and therefore a banal matter. They differed from previous arrests in that they functioned as a form of harassment, as a means of breaking the will and unity of the opposition’s strongmen, keeping them out of action as they were arrested, released, and rearrested over short intervals. Those who were targeted by this tactic were therefore forced to live in a temporal limbo where their existence was routinely destabilized in a bid to disrupt their political engagement. One of the key opposition figures thus targeted was Daher Ahmed Farah, a long-time nuisance for the government and a very strong voice in the USN who was instrumental in galvanizing support from both outside and inside the country. Arrested and then sentenced to two months in jail on 11 March 2013, Daher Ahmed Farah was released in mid-April along with thirteen other opposition members.68 His freedom was shortlived, because on 2 July, he was sentenced to another two-month prison term, this time combined with hard labor. Daher Ahmed Farah was one of many affected by repeated government arrests. His case is singled out because of his status and because of the high frequency of arrests. Still, a number of other opposition supporters and leaders were arrested throughout the interim period, while they were engaged in protests or meetings or simply because they were members of the opposition leadership. In the diaspora, where the tactic of arrest was not available, litigation took its place. For example, it was used against Abdourahman Boreh, the one-time friend and supporter of Guelleh who went into exile because of his ambition to succeed Guelleh as president. He became the financial backer of the USN and thus became an enemy of Guelleh. Without Boreh’s financial support, the USN would not have been able to list sixty-five candidates for the legislative elections of 2013, because it would have been very difficult to make the required initial deposit for each candidate.69 Boreh’s role also extended beyond financial involvement: on 10 April 2013 he was declared the legal representative of the USN in exile.70 Boreh’s high-level involvement in the opposition resulted in the intensification of the government litigation against him: a total of twenty-

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five legal proceedings. These proceedings were opened in Dubai (nine), in France (ten), in Spain (one), and in the United Kingdom (five), using the law firm of Gibson, Dunn & Crutcher.71 Specifically, the case that the government filed against him in the London High Court in October 2012 accused him of demanding kickbacks from a contractor, hiding money in offshore accounts in the British Virgin Islands and Samoa, and investing these funds in port construction while he was the head of the DPFZA. The government also claimed that he had stolen the staggering amount of US$77 million from the State of Djibouti while he was head of the Djibouti Port Authority.72 The court was requested to freeze Boreh’s assets. These assets, as listed in the court proceeding, included an apartment in London worth 11 million pounds, a US$10 million mansion in Dubai, a US$5 million property in France, a yacht, and a private jet worth US$7 million.73 The case in the London High Court was not the only attempt to freeze Boreh’s assets. In France, similar cases were filed at the courts in Paris and Grasse, which led to an order to freeze Boreh’s assets in May 2013.74 The assets involved amounted to 23 million euros.75 In June 2013, the London High Court made a similar decision. This order extended beyond the United Kingdom to freeze his assets worldwide: US$111.5 million. A key element in this decision was an assertion made by the Djiboutian government lawyer that Boreh was sponsoring terrorist activity in Djibouti. The lawyer presented a transcript of a telephone conversation in which they claimed that Boreh was giving orders to two of his relatives to carry out a grenade attack in the city of Djibouti. The decision was a serious blow to Boreh, who was also asked to pay 4.6 million pounds sterling in legal costs by the government lawyer.76 Armed with the decision of the London High Court, the government of Djibouti started to pursue Boreh in other countries. The government lawyer asked the Dubai International Financial Center (DIFC) to enforce the order in Dubai. This led to the freezing of assets worth US$5 million that Boreh had in the financial free zone of Dubai in October 2013.77 On top of the freezing of assets, Djibouti reactivated an earlier Interpol arrest warrant to demand the extradition of Boreh to Djibouti. The whole situation led the Dubai authorities to revoke Boreh’s passport until the issues were settled. Although the likelihood that he would be extradited was thought to be slim, as Boreh had a French passport, the revocation of his passport meant that Boreh was now effectively stranded in Dubai.78 In the same month, the government made a similar move in Singapore. They claimed that Boreh had set up a US$45 million trust in

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Singapore through the Asian wealth management firm Portcullis Singapore.79 The money deposited in Singapore and managed by Porticullis, they argued, came from the share of a British Virgin Islands company that Boreh owned called Net Support. The government argued that Boreh’s investments were inappropriate, as Net Support had a share in the other company that was established to build free trade zones in Djibouti, Horizon Djibouti Holding.80 This involvement of Net Support in the company that was constructing the Djibouti Free Zone was said to be an illegal conflict of interest, since Boreh, in his capacity of director of the Djibouti Port and Free Zone Authority, was not supposed to engage in private-sector investments and earn profit from his professional involvement. In short, the government’s argument in Singapore was that his assets should be frozen and ultimately returned to the State of Djibouti, since they had been acquired illegally through Boreh’s role in the government. The government also made local moves on Boreh. His business partner of thirty years, Djama Omar Said, was arrested on 4 November 2013 on charges of cigarette smuggling, and his business was closed.81 Another victim of the hostility between Boreh and Guelleh was the Dubai Port Authority itself. In a case submitted to the London Court of International Arbitration, the Djibouti government sought to annul the twenty-year concession for running the port82 and asked the arbitrators to confirm the annulment and assign a payment of damages because the nature of the previous transaction had prevented the government from obtaining a better deal.83 Besides attacking business entities associated with Boreh, the government also proceeded to seal the shares that two companies owned by Boreh, Boreh International FZE and Essence Management, held in Djibouti Dry Port FZCO.84 The decision was carried out by the head of the Djibouti Chamber of Commerce, Yousouf Mohamed Dawaleh, based on a court order issued on October 2013.85 The degree of success of the government litigation against Boreh is not the issue here. For example, it has failed in its attempt to extradite Boreh from Dubai. The order to seal the shares of his two companies in Djibouti Dry Port FZCO, challenged by Boreh’s lawyer, has not (as yet) been implemented. Even the litigation at the High Court in London ended up having some disastrous consequences for the Djibouti government. Despite this lack of total legal victory, the Djibouti government was nonetheless successful, as the primary purpose of all this litigation was to hinder Boreh’s business operations and his involvement in the USN in order to impede his political aspirations, which were seen as

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a danger. Boreh himself acknowledged the connections between the litigation and his involvement in politics when, for example, he denied accepting bribes from the Dubai Port Authority.86 Later on, he was even exonerated in court on this point, but during the interim period, his statement could have no effect against the tactical arsenal that the regime had deployed. These attacks included the following: (1) claiming morality associated with sovereignty, that is, that Boreh had endangered the security of Djibouti’s people and embezzled from people who are already among the poorest in the world; and (2) asserting the power of the sovereign state by using weapons available only to those in power in a sovereign state, such as Interpol arrest warrants and investigations by the law enforcement of other countries, such as the US Federal Bureau of Investigation. Using the full force of the sovereign state against the opposition in this way made the regime appear strong and invincible. Even so, its tactics should have been complemented with the softer and less rigid method of negotiation. The process of negotiation, in and of itself, was not an easy path, and even when they decided to use it, the government employed additional tactics of delay and nonresponsiveness. One of the major factors that made the negotiation difficult, and also necessary, was the fact that the opposition refused to occupy the seats they won in parliament. In the 2013 legislative election, the opposition USN won a total of 42,721 votes, compared to 73,817 for the UMP and 3,554 for the Center for United Democrats. This translated to twenty-one seats for the USN, forty-three for the UMP, and one for the CUD. The USN not only refused to accept this result, they also called for protests and boycotted the results by not taking their seats in parliament. They then proceeded to form their own national assembly, which they called the Assemblée Nationale Légitime (ANL), and called for the abolition of the government’s national assembly—a move that led to the arrest of forty members of the opposition. It was from this extreme position, extending to the formation of a parallel national assembly, that negotiations had to start in July 2013. As in any negotiation, how the negotiations should be conducted, and which issues should be addressed, became the priorities even before the actual negotiations began. One of the first issues that bogged down the negotiations was the different opinions of the USN and the UMP about who the negotiating parties should be. The government thought that the negotiations should be between the UMP and the USN, while the latter insisted on direct negotiations with the government.87 This created a standstill at first but was quickly resolved, and three rounds of negotiations ensued in

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August 2013.88 The talks broke down in September, each side accusing the other of sabotaging the process. A major issue for the USN was the fact that the government was continuing its crackdown on the opposition while the talks were in progress.89 For the UMP, the main issue was the fact that the USN were still agitating against the government, especially by utilizing the mosques and Friday prayers.90 The UMP took a hard line, refusing to negotiate until the situation changed, and this led to a complete deadlock. Rumors of the resumption of talks were not heard until February 2014. Between September 2013 and February 2014, the opposition was denied the right to hold demonstrations and public meetings.91 The rumors implied that Guelleh himself was interested in leading the negotiations and that, as part of his new plan, he had secretly invited the president and deputy chairman of the ARD, Adan Mohamed Abdou, who was also deputy chairman of the Assemblée Nationale Légitime, to join the talks on 1 February 2014.92 This conciliatory gesture on Guelleh’s part was motivated by upcoming major international summits; both the AfricaWashington summit and the EU-Africa summit were going to be held shortly, and Guelleh needed to burnish his democratic credentials. At the same time, it was also suggested that his gesture was an attempt to divide the opposition.93 In hindsight, the two reasons do not seem to be mutually exclusive. The assertion that he was attempting to divide the opposition proved to be true; subsequent events would show that Guelleh was modifying the way in which he was dealing with the opposition. Throughout Djibouti’s political history, negotiation had always been associated with divisiveness and discord. This specter was hovering over Djibouti’s opposition during the interim period, as it had before when the seemingly softer, more civilized process of negotiations was used to split the opposition and eventually stifle its activity. In this respect, the tactic of negotiation turned out to be more lethal than any other. In 2014, one of the earliest signs of the intertwining of negotiation and discord, and the eventual split within the USN, appeared as a result of a negotiation made by Ismail Guedi Hared. Guedi was secretly invited for reconciliation, but the party he represented, the USN, was not invited.94 The fact that the head of the USN, was thus involved in a talk without having to struggle to communicate with the rest of the membership created discord and confusion in the opposition camp. Because Guedi was an Issa, rumors spread of an Issa takeover, and also of Guedi succeeding to the presidency in 2016. The discord did not, however, lead to an immediate split. It only heralded the split that was to occur later. The USN managed to stick

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together and even flirted with the possibility of organizing a popular uprising.95 This renewed interest in civil unrest was born from events in Burkina Faso, whose citizens were able to oust the long-time ruler Blaise Compaoré. The USN leadership paraded through the streets of Djibouti in a vehicle and saluted the public—an affair that attracted numerous supporters as well as the riot police, who started cordoning off the sensitive spots of Djibouti City, such as the road that leads to the Presidential Palace.96 Other leaders in the USN eventually accepted the reconciliation brought by Guedi. This wish came true when the USN and the UMP signed a formal agreement on 30 December 2014. This speedy formalization was possible because many of the points of contention had already been negotiated in the previous reconciliation between the USN and the UMP. The final deal that was signed on 30 December 2014 added only two major points: reform of the electoral commission and the involvement of the opposition in the newly reconstituted commission. These two major issues, at the heart of the opposition’s demands, had been responsible for the collapse of talks previously, and it was agreed that they be “bracketed” in the new agreement, to be dealt with in a special commission to be formed by the USN and the UMP at a later date. In concrete terms, what the 30 December 2014 agreement did was bring an end to the political deadlock and violence that Djiboutians experienced in the wake of the February 2013 legislative elections. The agreement specified that the opposition would dissolve the Assemblée Nationale Légitime and the alternative parliamentary apparatus established during the postelection period. It also meant that members of the opposition would now be taking their seats in the existing parliament and receiving their salaries and benefits retroactively, from 23 February 2013. This new accord also contained an agreement to free the three Islamist leaders who were incarcerated after the election, as well as the other opposition leaders and activists who had taken action against the government in the postelection period. Besides these concrete measures, the agreement also pledged to reform the system in place. Besides the reform of the electoral commission, the two parties agreed on other key priorities for reform in order to develop what was referred to in the document as the “young democracy of Djibouti.”97 In this regard, three priority areas were delineated: (1) the modification of the Communication Law of 1992, which had been a key tool for jailing journalists and opposition figures as it limited free speech; (2) the further enforcement of the decentralization project that had begun when the FRUD opposition signed an agreement with

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the government in 2000; and (3) the strengthening of institutional mechanisms to oversee and guarantee the enforcement of human rights. This agreement, wittingly or unwittingly, characterizes Djibouti as a state in its infancy, where democracy is absent, and therefore a country that is not yet developed. If democracy has not been able to grow beyond its infancy stage since independence, perhaps it is because of the conjunction of internal and external forces aligning to create a system of personalized rule where the state is deliberately undermined by its own elite. These elites have entrenched themselves in their positions and stayed there because of the underlying infrastructure of power, where those who are in command control everything within the state’s space, including creating new hope and a new romance about democracy and development. The romance is that the baby state will grow into a democracy in adulthood. To date, however, democracy in Africa still looks a lot like Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel’s conception of Africa and Africans—like a child. The democracy of the “dark continent” is time and again presented as underdeveloped, a child that still needs to grow up. This assertion is made not only about Djibouti, nor only in the particular context of the December 2014 agreement, but throughout the continent whenever democracy is found lacking and repression has been the mechanism of rule. In itself, the discourse of the infancy of democracy is deployed to explain away repression or deal with the tragic consequences of the postcolonial period, in which the romance of growing democracy into adulthood is conceived as being all just a matter of time and the implementation of proper institutions to regulate and control that growth. Once again, romance leads to tragedy in the adult/mature democracy. The romance associated with the infancy of democracy does not question the conjunction of the external and internal forces at play or critically assess the legacy of colonial rule and its debilitating (antidemocratic, administrative) structures, which are unquestionably accepted at independence and during decolonization when negotiations are engineered by the colonial powers “granting” sovereignty. The ethnic framework reduces politics to a system of population control, ensuring the representation of the different ethnic groups in a national assembly based on ethnic quotas. When the USN and the UMP negotiated their 2014 accord, after thirty-seven years of independence, the crux of the debate was still the ethnic-quota politics that were the legacy of the colonial and decolonial moment. It can confidently be said that the 2014 agreement was a repeat celebration of the decolonial moment. It was déjà vu in terms of negotiat-

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ing a quota system and dividing up who would control whom in that system. Similar to the decolonization moment, it was a time of promise and hope for the advent of a rosy future, a promise that—this time around—was celebrated at the Presidential Palace and transmitted live on television, earning the government congratulatory remarks from African and international intergovernmental organizations, such as the African Union and the European Union.98 The negotiation of an accord between the government and the opposition was translated into a miniperiod of decolonization, engulfing Djibouti in a series of reenactments of the decolonial period. Both the opposition and the government allowed themselves to be swept away by a national feast of decolonization without opting to undo the framework that was set up at the threshold of decolonization. Even the alternative parliament that the opposition conceived of, despite its innovative character as a new method previously unattempted in Djibouti, was wholly modeled on the structure adopted at independence. This includes the sixty-five parliamentary seats that are parceled out to ethnic groups and the parties that supposedly act as their representatives. This repeat of the decolonial-period politics is doomed to failure because of the competition inherent in the majority/minority representation scheme, where some groups will inevitably feel more or less represented or repressed than others. This situation ultimately brings home the argument put forward here that negotiation is always intertwined with discord, division, and splitting the opposition, that it is a tool and a tactic deployed by the government and for the government to perpetuate its rule. The story of opposition politics in the period immediately following the signing of this romanticized and highly acclaimed accord was that the agreement was meant to grow democracy in Djibouti from infancy to adulthood. The next section will look more closely at the ways in which this fragmentation has perpetuated the status quo in Djibouti.

The Tragedy of Opposition Politics: Post-2014 Politics of Split and Continuity The initial seed of division was planted at the signing of the agreement itself, as some members of the USN protested it and refused to attend the ceremony at the palace. One of them was Saada Badr Farah, the chair of the Union des Femmes de l’Opposition (UFO).99 The absence of some members from the ceremony was not the only sign of an impending division—indeed, it was hardly more than a minor gesture of disapproval. The split manifested itself more clearly in the formation of

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another opposition camp. One of the key people in this event was Ali Deberkale Ahmed. He was close to the leader of the MRD, Daher Ahmed Farah, and he was the only person to vote against the reconciliation with the government, because he did not want to postpone the two key issues of the opposition: the status of the opposition and the reform of the electoral commission.100 Deberkale went on to form what came to be known as the Djibouti 2016 Movement. This move did not please the other members of the opposition. They saw it as an attempt to form an election platform that the MRD could use in the upcoming 2016 presidential election. The disagreement led to Deberkale’s dismissal as the USN representative to the European Union.101 Although this was a logical suspicion, given the closeness of Deberkale and Daher, Ali Debarkale Ahmed presented his Djibouti 2016 Movement as a citizen movement that was not affiliated with any party and that was born out of the weakness of the USN.102 The split within the opposition continued when the government made appointments from the ranks of the opposition. In 2015 the government appointed Aden Dalieh Drieh, secretary-general of RADD, as advisor to the minister of transport. More importantly, the deputy chair of RADD, Ali Mohamed Dato, was made a presidential advisor.103 This appointment meant that the USN was no longer a united force. Some of its members had become part of the government and had thus become a compromised, “friendly” opposition—rather like the FRUD splinter group that joined the government in 1994 while the main body was engaged in resistance. Although there was no armed struggle involved here, the situation was a continuation of the older trend, since USN was still waiting to discuss with the UMP the two key elements that had been left out of the signed agreement. Besides the division caused by the government appointments, there was also a growing division arising from actions taken by individual opposition members. Guedi was heavily criticized and called a traitor when he officially supported development projects that the government announced in the Somali-language program of the VOA.104 Likewise the ARD USN member of parliament, Adan Mohamed Abdou, came under attack by members of the MRD for stating that the USN negotiations with the government were progressing.105 The fragmented opposition was at a crossroads as the 2016 presidential election approached. The accord that was supposed to lead to the maturation of democracy by strengthening the opposition was put in jeopardy. Some of the elites from the opposition, abandoning their roles as representatives of the masses who believed in the romance of the state, took advantage instead of opportunities that the negotiations

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opened up. It was a perfect example of how the weapon of negotiation can lead to division. Negotiation had another negative effect. The government was able to use it to remain in power by buying time instead of making a genuine attempt to create democracy. The government dragged its feet on discussing the two outstanding issues, in no hurry to form the commission that was supposed to study them.106 The government was also slow in implementing the other provisions of the accord. By February 2015, the government still had not implemented the amnesty agreement or allowed the opposition members of parliament to take their seats.107 The only thing it had done was to return their revoked passports to the opposition leaders.108 When the USN officially celebrated the 100th day of the signing of the agreement on 8 April 2015 with a peaceful and permitted demonstration in the city of Djibouti, the deadlock with the government was still not broken.109 There was also no consensus in the opposition as to whom they should nominate as a presidential candidate for the 2016 election.110 The demonstration was intended as a peaceful way of saying to the government that things had not been implemented according to plan. By August 2015, with no progress in sight, the opposition descended into outright denunciation of the government, explicitly attributing the failure to deliberate inaction.111 While the opposition was waiting for the long-delayed settlement, the ruling party was working for their candidate’s reelection for a fourth term. The incumbent, Guelleh, was presented as the candidate of the ruling party. His bid for reelection was not accepted by the opposition. They expressed their displeasure in a demonstration in the town of Dikhil in September 2015. It led to a crackdown and to the arrest of members of the opposition who were taking part.112 Beginning in November 2015 it was made abundantly clear that Guelleh was going to run for the presidency. In a new interview with Jeune Afrique, he stated that he would be running for the presidency because the people of Djibouti had refused to let go of him.113 On 21 December, a ceremony commemorating one of the religious figures of Djibouti, Shaikh Yonis Muse, which was attended by opposition supporters and some of its leaders, suddenly turned into an antigovernment demonstration. The police crackdown that followed killed nineteen people and injured nine, including Ahmed Yousouf Houmed, the president of the USN.114 When the campaign for the presidential election that was to be held on 8 April 2016 was launched in January, the agreement between the

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opposition and the government had still not been implemented and Djibouti was in a very tense situation. The opposition was left to unflinchingly deploy their usual weapon: boycotting.115 Although they did threaten to boycott the election, they presented the name of their candidate to the electoral commission by the deadline. The choice was not unanimous, because three out of the seven parties that make up the USN opted not to participate in the election.116 Guelleh would be running against Omar Elmi Khaireh; Mohamed Daoud Chehem, who had split off from the USN; and three additional candidates who were running as independents—Djama Abdourhman Djama, Mohamed Moussa Ali, and Hassan Idriss Ahmed.117 The election, which the opposition members were calling a masquerade even as they were participating in it, produced the result that many were expecting—a Guelleh victory. According to the provisional count that was announced on 9 April, Guelleh won 87 percent of the vote, while the USN candidate, Omar Elmi Khaireh, obtained only 7 percent.118 After the election Guelleh invoked the will of the masses: “The people of Djibouti have again entrusted me with the state’s high office. . . . I have understood their hopes and will get back to work tomorrow.”119 Although the ruling party won the election, in which the arsenal of negotiation and reform served as a lethal weapon, in the field of litigation the regime was defeated while the opposition obtained the victory that they could not get through the election. The hearing in the London High Court, where the regime had sued to freeze Abdourahman Boreh’s assets, took a sudden and unexpected turn. In November 2014, it came to the attention of the court that the freezing order was actually made in error because the court had been misled.120 The date of the telephone intercept that was supplied by the lawyer for Djibouti—the key piece of evidence that had convinced the judge that Boreh was participating in an act of terrorism—turned out to be wrong. In the telephone conversation, the court was able to hear Boreh talking about the delivery of scrap metal and also about a job that was successfully accomplished. The Djibouti lawyer stated that these coded conversations were recorded by the security service of Djibouti on 5 March 2009 and that they related to the explosion of a grenade in Djibouti on 4 March—an explosion in which Boreh was found to be an accomplice and sentenced to a fifteen-year prison term. However, Boreh’s lawyers proved that the telephone conversation actually happened on 4 March, not on 5 March.121 This meant that the phrase “job accomplished” could not have been a reference to the grenade attack, because the conversation took place before the attack.122 It also meant

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that the phrase “delivery of scrap metal” could not be associated with exploded grenades. Boreh acknowledged that “scrap metal” was a coded message, but he stated that it referred to political tracts that the opposition were supposed to post on walls, not to the grenade attack.123 This inversion of date was a great victory for Boreh. Lord Falconer, from the law firm that the Djibouti government was employing, stated that the Republic of Djibouti apologized to the court and to Boreh for the error.124 He also apologized for the facts that the error could have been corrected earlier and that his partner, Peter Gray, did not refer the error to the judge and was not honest about the whole situation.125 However, he continued to argue for the freezing order to remain in place, since the error had not been committed by the government of Djibouti itself but by his partner.126 This argument did not sit well with the judge of the high court, Justice Flaux, who was displeased with the evasive approach that was followed and revoked the freezing order. The only question that remained to be answered was whether Boreh was indeed engaged in bribery or whether he was attacked because he was aspiring to be the next president of Djibouti. The bribery issue led to further defeat for the regime. The question of whether Boreh was persecuted for his ambition of becoming the next president was effectively answered when Dileita Mohamed Dileita, the former prime minister of Djibouti, was called in as a witness and subjected to an intense cross-examination. This crossexamination revealed that the former prime minister met Boreh at the Marriott Hotel in Dubai in 2007, where they had a discussion that was political in nature, and that he later informed authorities in Djibouti that Boreh wanted to become president.127 This testimony established the connection between Boreh’s political ambition and his persecution. Shortly after Dileita testified, Boreh was removed from his official position—an event that heralded the series of attacks that would come later on. The final judgment of the trial, which was announced on 2 March 2016, completely vindicated Boreh. The judge dismissed all of the charges and blamed the state of Djibouti for its cynical and untruthful behavior, motivated not by justice but by political factors.128 This failed litigation, which cost the state of Djibouti US$65 million, was presented as not only a personal victory for Boreh, but a victory for all of the opposition.129 Boreh managed to score a few other victories. On 18 April 2016, the London High Court ordered the Djibouti government to pay Boreh’s legal fees, which amounted to US$13.48 million, as well as an additional fee of US$4.73 million.130 Because Djibouti relinquished the proceeding that was initiated in 2013, the government was ordered to pay US $870,000

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plus interest, which amounted to US$236,000, and an additional fee of US$290,000.131 DP World also took the Djibouti government to court, accusing them of making baseless allegations that they paid bribes to Boreh in order to obtain the contract. DP World won the case in arbitration in February 2017, and the Djibouti government was ordered to pay the legal costs and other associated costs of DP World.132 This defeat of the government on the international scene, and the victory of Boreh and indirectly of the opposition, had only a limited effect in changing the political landscape in Djibouti. In the domestic arena, the opposition political parties were in tatters. In Djibouti, opposition and critical voices continued to be imprisoned. Omar Ali Emdo, a unionist, and twenty other members of the MRD were arrested by the security forces in March 2017.133 The MRD’s assets were also liquidated by government decree, as they were accused of colluding with and supporting the agenda of the Eritrean government—an allegation that was made in the run-up to the legislative election in 2018.134 The ARD also experienced problems during this period when the death of its long-term leader, Ahmed Youssouf Houmed, in September 2017 was exploited by the government. The party’s chairmanship fell to Adan Mohamed Abdou,135 and the government refused to recognize the organization as a legal entity. Instead, the government recognized the ARD that had been formed by Cassim Ahmed Dini in 2014, outside of the mainstream ARD.136 In the period that led up to the legislative election of 2018, MoDeL and RADD, the party of Abdourahman Mohamed Guelleh, were also not recognized.137 As a result of all of these processes and tactics since the 2013 election, the 2018 election carried none of the optimism that had followed the rule changes of 2012. The UMP was running against friendly opposition, the Union for Democracy and Justice–Djibouti Democracy Party (UDJ-PDD) and the Center for United Democrats (CUD). These parties lacked the weight and the opposition experience of the parties that were summarily sidelined, such as the MRD of Daher Ahmed Farah. This did not stop Farah from pointing out the problematic nature of the election. The UMP again won the majority of seats in parliament (fifty-seven out of sixty-five), the UDJ-PDD won seven, and the CDU won one.138 By 2018 the ruling party was securely in position. The next presidential election was scheduled for 2021. Once again the Djibouti political scene was filled with speculation about who would be the successor. Some said that Guelleh would be once again victorious; others thought that he would be succeeded by Naguib Abdallah Mohamed Kamil, Kadra’s son from her first marriage. Others confidently affirmed that

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the next president would definitely be his son-in-law, Djama Elmi Okieh (aka Djama Speed).139 Still others proposed the finance minister, Ilyas Moussa Dawaleh.140 Despite these rumors of change and succession, Guelleh remained in power, as he once again competed and won the 2021 presidential election, which was boycotted by the opposition.

Falling Dreams, Rising Visions In the recent past, the external environment was marked by two major events that stemmed from Yemen and China. Although both were connected to the romance of the modern state, the one related to Yemen was a failing dream, and the one related to China was a rising dream that still had the capacity to generate hope. Despite their different outcomes, both became the new external factors in which Djibouti came to interact. External Effects from Yemen In 1990, North Yemen and South Yemen, two Arab states where the socialist and capitalist camps engaged in proxy war during the Cold War era, were united. This union (wahada in Arabic) was prompted by South Yemen’s realization that the Soviet cause was a dead end in view of the politics of glasnost (openness) and perestroika (restructuring) introduced by Mikhail Gorbachev and the rapid retreat of socialism in Eastern Europe during the 1980s.141 The discovery of oil on the border between the two countries was also important. The two previously contending states agreed to exploit the oil jointly. The new unity state, presided over by Ali Abdullah Saleh, was considered a dream come true, another step toward the unification of all Arabs—the idea of pan-Arabism that many shared in Yemen. It was also regarded as the restoration of a historically unified Yemen. Wahada was conceived of as a return to the glory days of strong kingdoms such as the Sabeans and Himarayat. But above all, the wahada was regarded as a step toward economic prosperity for the people of Yemen, the poorest of the Arab nations. The oil fields—which were, symbolically enough, located along the border between the two nations of North Yemen and South Yemen—were seen as the key that would unlock Yemen’s development potential. The romance linked to the united state failed quickly, however. The largest share of the contract in the oil field, as well as properties in the south, were increasingly allocated to northerners who controlled the state machinery, breeding a sense of dissatisfaction in the south—a feeling that was strengthened by the government’s active sidelining of southern politicians in government, the civil service, and the army.142

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Cracks also became visible in the north, as the government felt increasingly challenged and started to engage in protective wars in the region of Saada against a tribal coalition of the Houthis.143 These political fault lines were exacerbated when the Arab Spring arrived in Yemen in 2011.144 Within a year, Saleh was forced from office and was replaced by Abdourakhman Mansour Hadi, his vice president, who was from the southern region but had not previously held significant power. This was not the only major change, however. The Houthi rebels, who by this time had reached the outskirts of the capital, Sanaa, had become a force to be reckoned with and had in fact been instrumental in the ousting of Saleh.145 The south was engulfed by a secessionist movement, al-Hirak,146 as well as by al-Qaeda in the Arabian Peninsula (AQAP) and the Islamic State of Iraq and Syria (ISIS).147 The secessionist crisis led eventually to the total collapse of the state when the Houthi deposed Hadi and replaced him with a Revolutionary Committee. Hadi was arrested, but he soon managed to flee to Aden and proclaimed himself the legitimate head of the Yemen government, an act that was supported by the Gulf Cooperation Countries and Western powers. He was forced to flee Yemen on 25 March 2015 as the Houthi, who by now were allied with forces loyal to Saleh, took control of many southern cites and started to advance on Aden. This advance and Hadi’s escape led to the formal involvement of external forces in the civil war of Yemen, in the form of the Saudi Arabia–led coalition force that was militarily backed by the United States, the United Kingdom, and France.148 The problem was not just Saleh and the government that he led. In fact it was the romantic dream of the unified Yemeni states that was in total crisis. The romance of the wahada was replaced by a total tragedy the likes of which have not been seen in the recent history of the region. The tragic failure of the wahada dream in Yemen contributed to further valorization of the Djibouti space and thus has indirectly reinforced the position of its ruling elite. The crisis in Yemen and the lack of stability of most of the region meant sustained concern from the United States, and hence sustained US engagement in Djibouti. In 2011, this sustained engagement took the form of intensified US attacks on AQAP. In that year, the CIA escalated its drone attacks against the organization to a new level, partly because of the assassination of bin Laden in Pakistan and partly because the southern part of Yemen was becoming the new center for militant Islam, particularly al-Qaeda, which took advantage of the waning strength of the state.149 In this situation the Djibouti base— along with bases in Saudi Arabia, Oman, and the United Arab Emirates said to be operated by the CIA—became even more important.150

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Because of its continued strategic value, Djibouti also became an important recipient of military equipment from the United States. In 2011, it was reported that the US African command, pending the approval of Congress, was to transfer military equipment worth US $51.5 million to nations in East Africa and the Horn of Africa: Uganda, Burundi, Mauritania, and Djibouti.151 Djibouti was to receive US$17.7 million worth of military aircraft capable of engaging in intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance. This was more than any of the other countries: Uganda and Burundi received US$12 million each, and Mauritania US$15.1 million. The deal between the United States and Djibouti was not limited to transfer of sophisticated surveillance equipment. Following Guelleh’s visit to the White House on 5 May 2014, discussions took place about how Djibouti could further benefit from the American presence on its soil through a “Djibouti first policy,” whereby the US Department of Defense would give priority to Djiboutian products and services in the procurement process for Camp Lemonier.152 The visit also led to the extension of the Camp Lemonier contract itself. Djibouti was to receive US$63 million per year for the presence of the Americans.153 It had the additional advantage of being not a short-term contract but a ten-year lease.154 This agreement to maintain Camp Lemonier at nearly twice the previous price came at a time when Yemen was increasingly volatile. Not only could it not have served as an alternative to Djibouti, but the coastal and interior spaces of Yemen were a serious and growing threat to US interests. This reality was symbolically brought home in March 2015 when the Houthis, on their march to Aden, captured the air base at al-Anda near Aden, where the United States had based its counterterrorism operations, leading the Americans to relocate their forces.155 The loss of a foothold in Yemen became the biggest security threat in the region, and this increased the value of Djibouti’s space. After the collapse of the Yemeni dream of creating a unified state, Djibouti became even more important in the Red Sea corridor. In the international media, the crisis was reported not as benefiting Djibouti but as straining the country, because the focus was on the refugees who were coming into Djibouti from Yemen.156 Even this humanitarian tragedy had a silver lining for Djibouti, however, as it further valorized Djibouti’s space. Djibouti became a destination, a reliable place of refuge. The headline of an article in the Guardian newspaper about the flow of refugees captured this valorization of Djibouti’s space and its indispensability: “All Roads Lead to Djibouti as Refugees Flee Yemen Even as Migrants Head There.”157

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Another reason for the valorization of Djibouti’s space was that powerful nations of the world used Djibouti to rescue their own citizens as well as other nationals from Yemen. At the height of the conflict, in 2015, the Chinese navy evacuated 571 Chinese nationals along with 8 people from other countries.158 Later, it helped to evacuate 225 people from ten different nations: Pakistan, Ethiopia, Singapore, Italy, Germany, Poland, Ireland, Great Britain, Canada, and Yemen.159 All the evacuees were brought to Djibouti. The same thing occurred when the Indian armed forces launched its Operation Raahat. Between 31 March and 15 April 2015, the Indian army evacuated a total of 3,074 people—1,783 Indians and 1,291 foreigners—from the three main ports of Yemen: Aden, Hudaydah, and Shihr. The destination of all the evacuees was Djibouti. The nations who conducted these rescue missions benefited diplomatically, portrayed as powerful countries with high moral standards who will go so far as to risk the lives of their own soldiers to save the citizens of other nations. Djibouti also benefited, able to capitalize on its status as the most stable, friendly, and peaceful nation in the Horn of Africa. The foreign military powers, and even the scholars who were analyzing the Horn of Africa, never bothered to ask these questions: For whom does Djibouti’s space appear peaceful? What conditions are concealed by the discourse that associates Djibouti with stability and peace? If stability means the absence of political agitation and turmoil of the kind that Yemen was experiencing, then yes, Djibouti was stable. But as the previous chapters have shown, Djibouti has never been peaceful. Since its independence its citizens have faced arrest, torture, and other abuse at the hands of their own government. The tragic failure of another nation’s dream—in this case Yemen— has helped to perpetuate the tragedy of the Djiboutian masses. It has provided an opportunity for the elites who control the country’s space to benefit from the value that foreign nations attach to it. Foreign governments have their own interests in the region; their concern is to keep the country stable by not disrupting the power that is holding it together. Freedom, opportunity, and brotherhood are no more than an illusion. The decolonial period in Djibouti promised freedom, peace, and human actualization through a contractual agreement between two parties— namely, the nation of Djibouti and its colonizers. This contract has never succeeded. The highly strategic geopolitical situation of the country, coupled with the failure to dismantle the colonial legacy, has allowed the political elites to benefit from external rents and ignore the promise of freedom in an independent state. The collapse of the dream of wahada in Yemen has been the latest factor to cement the interrelationships

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among external forces, internal conditions, and the tragic opportunities that the elite harness in order to remain in power.

External Effects from China Beginning in 2009, the Chinese state, which had managed to raise millions of its citizens out of poverty and to radically transform China, envisioned a change in direction. The new ambition was to rejuvenate the Chinese nation through what came to be known as the “hundred years’ dream” or “two 100s.”160 The goal of this hundred years’ dream was to make China an even more prosperous nation by the 100th anniversary of the Chinese Communist Party in 2021. One of the activities to achieve this goal was to invest heavily in infrastructure projects around the world. This Chinese dream of becoming internationally proactive gained particularly fertile ground in Djibouti’s neighbor Ethiopia, which in 2005 started seeing China as a political and economic model that should be emulated.161 For Djibouti, whose port spaces cater primarily to Ethiopian-related economic activities, the combination of the Chinese global dream and Ethiopia’s emulation of the Chinese model was an economic bonanza. The Chinese investment in Ethiopia inevitably enriched Djibouti. From this point onward, it was not only the Arabs and the West who had vested interests in Djibouti, but also China, who was to become, politically speaking, Djibouti’s new best friend. A major product of China’s new hegemonic presence in Djibouti and Ethiopia was the construction of a new train line that linked the capital cities of the two countries. Africa’s first Chinese-built cross-border railway line, built in the 1970s and linking Tanzania to Zambia, was designed to display not only the superiority of the socialist path of development but anti-imperialist solidarity.162 Similarly, the new Ethiopia–Djibouti train line was intended to showcase the soundness of the Chinese model.163 It symbolized the presence of China in the two countries as well as the declining influence of the French, whose rail line in Djibouti had run into difficulties. The new Chinese-built train line was announced in October 2011, begun in September 2013, and completed in 2016.164 It was built by the China Civil Engineering Construction Corporation, the engineering group of the Chinese railways, and financed by the Chinese Exim bank at a cost of US$4 billion. The train line was not the only Chinese project in Djibouti. They also entered into other infrastructure projects and investments. One of these was the port of Djibouti. In 2012 the DPFZA signed a strategic partnership with the China Merchant Holding Company.165 The deal

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included the formation of a new venture, Port de Djibouti, which was to replace the DPFZA. China’s willingness to invest in infrastructure was leveraged to eradicate the influence that Dubai had come to wield in Djibouti. It gave China a substantial stake in one of the key port spaces of the Red Sea region. In numerical terms, the Chinese Merchant Holding Company, which formally has a 23.5 percent share in the new joint venture company, Port de Djibouti, will own the Port of Djibouti terminal and a 66.66 percent stake in the Doraleh container terminal and 23.1 percent in the Djibouti dry port.166 On 22 February 2018, the government made its final move against the Dubai Port Authority by canceling the contract for the Doraleh container terminal.167 This cancellation led to considerable jostling for control in the port of Djibouti, and one of the main contenders became China. Chinese involvement in Djibouti includes an extension of the Doraleh container terminal through the creation of a new Port Doraleh Multipurpose Port, a 690-hectare port that cost US$590 million.168 Inaugurated in 2017 and financed in part by China Merchant Holding, the port has the capacity to handle goods worth US$7 billion per year and is intended to serve as a gateway for Asian goods to Africa.169 As this book is being finalized, the involvement of China Merchant Holding in Djibouti faces an uncertain trajectory, as DP World sued the company at the Hong Kong High Court for inducing the government of Djibouti to expel DP World from Djibouti. The court decided in favor of DP World, leading to a substantial increase of the legal cost for the company and Djibouti.170 However, China is involved in not only the infrastructure of the port of Djibouti but also other major infrastructure projects, including the construction of a port in Tadjoura for the exportation of Ethiopia’s potash, which is being mined by the Canadian company Allan Potash Corp.171 This project was constructed by the Baraoye Habai consultation group at a cost of US$90 million.172 The Chinese are also developing the largest free trade zone in Africa. Undertaken by the Dalian Port Corporation Authority, it is expected to handle US$7 billion worth of goods in two years’ time.173 The greatest opportunity that the state has obtained from the infrastructure of power since 2011 is perhaps best exemplified by yet another Chinese infrastructure project: their first overseas military base. Beginning in 2009, the Chinese government started to change its outlook on military engagement in the world. Until then, the Chinese had characterized their massive economic involvement in the global south as qualitatively different from the West and nonimperialist in nature,

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with the absence of Chinese military involvement as proof of this. With the involvement of the People’s Liberation Army and Navy in antipiracy activity in the Gulf of Aden beginning in 2009, a new dynamic emerged. China set out to actively protect its sea lanes and its personnel in the Indian Ocean region. This new role of the Chinese Navy was efficiently demonstrated in the Yemen conflict when it was able to rescue its own citizens and others. However, this involvement enjoyed neither an actual Chinese military base nor a firmly expressed policy.174 The first official statement of more robust involvement in the Red Sea area was in a defense white paper in 2015, which used the phrase “near sea defense, far sea protection.”175 Djibouti became a key actor in this new Chinese policy to protect its maritime interests. On 9 May 2015, Guelleh revealed to AFP that his country was in negotiations with the Chinese, who wanted to establish a military base. This revelation, which naturally gained wide attention, was initially denied by the Chinese but was later confirmed. China, however, insisted that its base in Djibouti would be a logistical base, not a military base.176 The work on the base started shortly after it was announced, and in July 2017 Chinese troops carried by two ships, CNS Jinggangshan and CNS Donghaidao, left the naval base in Zhaanjiang, Guangdon province, for Djibouti.177 The base itself was officially opened on 1 August 2017, the ninetieth anniversary of the establishment of the People’s Liberation Army.178

Djibouti’s Multiple Engagements In the foreseeable future, the new presence of the Chinese will not dominate the Djibouti space. Instead, the multiple and sometimes conflicting global forces that are competing against each other will be forced to cohabit in the space of Djibouti. The French are still present and relevant for maintaining the current regime in power. Despite France’s evolving strategy, in which it has also stationed forces in other countries, its formal agreements and, above all, the strategic nature of Djibouti are forcing them to remain in Djibouti and cooperate with other countries. The same is true of the Japanese and the Americans, who are in an active contest with the Chinese for global supremacy in other parts of the world.179 The United States is expanding its military presence in the Red Sea, and the European Union continues to participate in the anti-piracy project. Here in Djibouti they all have to get along somehow. It is beyond the scope of this book to analyze all the regional and global implications of the concentration of the various military forces in

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the strategic place of Djibouti, or to imagine how they will coexist. Given the long-term trends in Djibouti and the nature of power and state in this country, we can be certain that the presence of the various forces will blur the line even further between what is inside and what is outside. They will continue to reinforce whoever controls the sovereign space of Djibouti. In doing so, they will be indirectly instrumental in changing the romance associated with the state of Djibouti into tragedies for its people and opportunities for the elites at the top.

Notes

1. François Soudan, “Ismail Omar Guelleh: ‘En 2016, je m’en irai. Cette fois, je peux vous le jurer,’” Jeune Afrique, 8 December 2011. 2. Badiou, The Rebirth of History, 5. 3. Ibid., 18. 4. Ibid., 50–58. 5. Ibid., 57–58. 6. Brownlee, Democracy Prevention; “Egypt, France to Conclude €5.2 Billion Deal for Rafale Jets,” France 24, 16 February 2015, https://www.france24.com /en/20150216-france-egypt-sign-deal-sale-rafale-fighter-jets. 7. Badiou, The Rebirth of History, 51–52. 8. Ibid. 9. “The Sponsors of Independent Candidates in Djibouti Election,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 14 January 2012. 10. Ibid. 11. Ibid. 12. “Djibouti Leader Votes in Regional, Local Council Elections,” BBC, 22 January 2012. 13. “RPP Promotes High Budget Ministers in Djibouti,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 22 September 2012. 14. “IOG Takes Risk of Renewing RPP Top Brass,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 6 October 2012. 15. “Dileita Mohamed Dileita on the Way Out,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 25 September 2012. 16. Ibid.; “IOG Takes Risk,” Indian Ocean Newsletter. 17. Samson A. Bezabeh, “Between Wadiya and China: Djibouti and the Recent Reform of the Rassemblement Populaire pour le Progrès (RPP),” Focus on the Horn, 4 October 2012, https://focusonthehorn.wordpress.com/tag/rassemblement -populaire-pour-le-progres/; “RPP Is but an Empty Shell,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 22 September 2012. 18. “Opposition Will Participate in the 2013 Parliamentary Election,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 14 December 2013. 19. Harbi Abdillahi Omar, “Djibouti Opposition to Contest Parliamentary Elections,” All Africa News, 24 January 2013. 20. See Bezabeh, Subjects of Empires. 21. See Bezabeh, “Arab Diasporas in Geopolitical Spaces.” 22. On this Africa-wide trend where new Muslims intellectuals became actively engaged, see Soares and Otayek, “Introduction: Islam and Muslim Politics in Africa”;

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Hackett and Soares, “Introduction: New Media”; Abbink, “Religion in Public Spaces”; Bezabeh, “Living Across Digital Landscapes.” 23. On the intersection between Islamist movements and the Arab Spring, see Al-Arian, “Islamist Movements and the Arab Spring”; Wright, The Islamists Are Coming; Milton-Edwards, The Muslim Brotherhood. 24. Abdillahi, La dimension politique de l’Islam à Djibouti, 20. 25. On the establishment of Al Birri and the prominence it enjoyed after the 1994 flood, see Abdillahi, La dimension politique de l’Islam à Djibouti, 16–21. On the flood itself, see United Nations Department of Humanitarian Affairs, “Djibouti—Floods Nov 1994 UN DHA Situation Reports 1–5,” 22 November 1994, https://reliefweb .int/report/djibouti/djibouti-floods-nov-1994-un-dha-situation-reports-1-5. 26. Abdillahi, La dimension politique de l’Islam à Djibouti, 19. 27. An ethnic Issa/Fourlaba, Sougueh Ahmed Farah was an Arabic teacher by profession. Besides him, the MoDel party was founded by Abatte Ebo Abdou, a medical doctor who had a private clinic and had also helped to found the FRUD; Abdourahman Barakat God, a researcher in the Centre d’étude et de recherche de Djibouti (CERD); and Guirreh Maydal. For the creation and evolution of MoDel, see “Opposition Will Participate in 2013 Parliamentary Election in Djibouti,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 14 December 2012; Abdillahi, La dimension politique de l’Islam à Djibouti, 19–20. 28. Abdillahi, La dimension politique de l’Islam à Djibouti, 18–19. 29. Ibid., 20. 30. Ibid., 19–20. 31. Harbi Abdillahi Omar, “Djibouti Opposition Parties to Contest Parliamentary Elections,” All Africa News, 24 January 2013. 32. François Soudan, “Ismail Omar Guelleh: ‘En 2016, je m’en irai. Cette fois, je peux vous le jurer,’” Jeune Afrique, 8 December 2011. 33. Both media were established by Amin Mohamed Robleh, Mohamed Goumaneh Guirreh, and Abdourahman Souleimand Bashir. On the establishment of Le Temps and La Voix de Djibouti, see “Djibouti Opposition Takes President IOG at His Word,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 12 May 2012. 34. “Electoral Campaign Begins in Djibouti,” All Africa News, 11 February 2013. 35. For a glimpse of the preaching of Islamists on a USN platform, see the following YouTube videos: “USN Election Legislative 2013, Meeting USN Ali Sabieh, 15 February 2013,” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z4fauihmThg; “USN Legislatives 2013, Djibouti, 19 February 2013,” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0 -3lFrwbD9Y. 36. “Afar Uneasy in the USN,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 15 February 2013. 37. Ibid. 38. “Opposition Closes Its Ranks,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 11 February 2013. 39. See Abdourazak Ali, “Djibouti Regime Face Toughest Poll Challenge in Decade,” AFP, 21 February 2013. 40. “RSF Says Djibouti Radio Journalist Abducted and Tortured by Police,” BBC Monitoring Media, 3 February 2012. 41. Hildid was arrested in November 2011 for allegedly participating in insurrection movements, and in February 2011 when he was accused of instigating an illegal demonstration. In both cases he was tortured by those who arrested him. On this, see “RSF Says Djibouti Radio Journalist Abducted and Tortured by Police,” BBC Monitoring Media, 3 February 2012. 42. “Djibouti Police Arrest Opposition Website Reporter,” BBC Monitoring Media, 7 July 2012.

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43. “Media Watchdog Protest to Djibouti Ministers over Jailed Reporter,” BBC Monitoring Media, 16 August 2012. 44. Harbi Abdillahi Omar, “Djiboutian Opposition Accuses Government of Censorship,” All Africa News, 14 February 2013. 45. “Reporters Without Borders Creates Mirror Sites to Fight Censorship,” Reporters Without Borders, 25 January 2016. 46. On the architecture of control that is set up by the government, including the institutions mentioned in this paragraph, see “Islam in Djibouti,” WikiLeaks, 15 February 2005 https://wikileaks.org/plusd/cables/05DJIBOUTI149_a.html. 47. “President IOG Brings the Ulama to Heel in Djibouti,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 20 October 2012. 48. “Ulemas’ Unease in Djibouti,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 3 November 2012. 49. “Djibouti Concludes Election Campaigns Ahead of February 22 Legislative Polls,” Xinhua News Agency, 21 February 2013. 50. “Djibouti Ruling Party Claims Parliamentary Poll Win,” AFP, 23 February 2013. 51. “Djibouti Ruling Party Claims Election Win,” AFP, 22 February 2013. 52. Ibid. 53. “Parliamentary Election Results on the Sly,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 15 March 2013. 54. “Djibouti Ruling Party Claims Election Win,” AFP. 55. Ibid. 56. “Djibouti Opposition Say They Clash with Police,” AFP, 26 February 2013. 57. Ibid. 58. “Djibouti Government Calls for Election Protestors to Maintain Order,” All Africa News, 28 February 2012; “The Government Takes Aim at Ulema,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 1 March 2013. 59. “Djibouti Government Calls for Election Protestors,” All Africa News. 60 “Djibouti Police Battle Crowds Protesting Election Results,” Reuters, 1 March 2013. 61. “Djibouti Authorities Continue to Arrest Opposition Figures,” BBC Monitoring Africa, 6 March 2013. 62. Christophe Châtelot, “A Djibouti, le pouvoir tente d’étouffer la contestation,” Le Monde, 8 March 2013; Fédération Internationale des Droits de l’Homme, “Djibouti: At Least 6 Killed as Regime Takes Parliamentary Seats in Election,” 8 March 2013. 63. “Guelleh Warns Opposition to Desist from Aggression,” All African News, 4 March 2013. 64. “Djibouti Throws Out Opposition Challenge,” Reuters, 13 March 2013. 65. “Djiboutian Clerics Sentenced for Post-Election Violence,” All Africa News, 11 March 2013. 66. European Parliament, “Situation in Djibouti: European Parliament Resolution of 4 July 2013 on the situation of Djibouti (2013/26909(RSP)),” http://www .europarl.europa.eu/document/activities/cont/201307/20130717ATT69897/20130717 ATT69897EN.pdf. 67. Roesseler, Ethnic Politics and State Power in Africa. 68. “Djibouti’s Opposition Say 14 Members Released,” Reuters, 12 April 2013. 69. “Opposition Closes Its Ranks,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 1 February 2013. 70. “Union pour le Salut National, Décision, 10 April 2013,” La Voix de Djibouti, no. 155, 21 April 2013. 71. “IOG Hounds Former Friend Boreh,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 12 July 2013. 72. Alex Spence, “‘I Can Prove Every Dollar,’ Insists African Exile Accused of Stealing $77m from State,” The Times, 3 June 2013.

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73. Ibid. 74. “Legal Sniping at Boreh Trial,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 14 June 2013. 75. Ibid. 76. “IOG Hounds Former Friend Boreh,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 12 July 2013. 77. Frank Kane, “Dubai Businessman Has $5 Million Assets Frozen by DIFC Court in Legal First,” The National, 14 October 2013. 78. “No End in the War Against Boreh,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 11 October 2013. 79. K. C. Vijayan, “African Govt. in $56m Court Case in Singapore,” Asia One, 29 October 2013. 80. Ibid. 81. “Djama Omar Said in Court,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 12 December 2013. 82. Simeon Kerr, “Djibouti Seeks to Annul DP World Terminal Contract,” Financial Times, 9 July 2014. 83. Ibid. 84. “Boreh’s Assets Put Up for Sale,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 24 January 2014. 85. Ibid. 86. Election Guide, “Election for Djibouti National Assembly 22 February 2013,” http://www.electionguide.org/elections. 87. “Negotiation at a Standstill,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 26 July 2013. 88. “Dialogue with the USN Finally on Track,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 30 August 2013. 89 “Djibouti Political Negotiations Stall,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 17 September 2013. 90. Ibid. 91. “Djibouti Opposition Says Political Dialogue Has Failed,” BBC Monitoring Africa, 6 October 2013; “Government Still Tightening Screws on USN,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 6 December 2013. 92. “President IOG Enters Dialogue with USN,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 3 February 2014. 93. Ibid. 94. “Ismael Guedi and President IOD Reconcile,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 22 July 2014. 95. “USN Takes a Leaf from Burkina Faso,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 18 November 2014. 96. Ibid. 97. “Accord cadre sur le dialogue politique entre le gouvernement et l’Union pour le Salut National (USN),” 30 December 2014 http://www.presidence.dj/jo /2014/accordgouvusn2015.php. 98. Djibouti Ministère des Affaires Etrangères et de la Coopération Internationale, “L’Union Africaine salut l’accord cadre signé entre le gouvernement et l’USN,” Communiqué de presse, 10 January 2015, http://www.djibdiplomatie.dj/index.php /les-actions-de-djibouti/8-communique-de-presse/221-l-union-africaine-salut-l -accord-cadre-signe-entre-le-gouvernement-et-l-usn; European Union, “Déclaration du porte-parole sur l’accord signé par le gouvernement de la République de Djibouti et l’Union pour le Salut National,” 6 January 2015, https://eeas.europa.eu/head quarters/headquarters-Homepage/2498/declaration-du-porte-parole-sur-laccord -cadre-signe-par-le-gouvernement-de-la-republique-de_fr. 99. “Split Within the USN,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 2 January 2015. 100. Ibid. 101. Ibid.

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102. Dimitri Verdonck, “Djibouti: Présentation du ‘Mouvement Djibouti 2016,’” December 2014, http://www.acp-europa.eu/wp-content/uploads/2012/03/Analyse -2014-Djibouti-Djibouti-2016-2.pdf. 103. “USN Split While UMP Is United,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 24 July 2015. 104. Ibid. 105. Ibid. 106. “IOG Plays Cat and Mouse with USN,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 2 February 2015. 107. Ibid. 108. Ibid. 109. “USN Wants to Pressure the Government Ahead of Elections,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 10 April 2015. 110. Ibid. 111. “Djibouti Opposition Concerned over Non-implementation of Accord with the Government,” BBC Monitoring, 5 August 2015. 112. “Arrest and Detention of Peaceful Protesters in Dikhil Since 18 September,” All Africa News, 28 September 2015. 113. Ibid. 114. “Violence Flares in Djibouti; Conflicting Casualty Tolls,” AFP, 22 December 2015. 115. “Djibouti Leaders Kick Off Campaigns for Presidential Elections,” BBC Monitoring Africa, 14 January 2016; “Djibouti Opposition Threatens to Boycott 8 April Presidential Poll,” BBC Monitoring Africa, 19 January 2016. 116. “Djibouti Opposition Endorses Candidate for Presidential Poll,” Xinhua News Agency, 16 February 2016. 117. “Djibouti Election: What You Need to Know,” BBC, 7 April 2016. 118. “Djibouti Incumbent President Guelleh Wins—Provisional Results,” Reuters, 9 April 2016. 119. “Djibouti’s Guelleh Re-elected with Landslide Win,” AFP, 9 April 2016. 120. “Abdourahman Boreh Scores a Point in London High Court,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 28 November 2014. 121. “UK Court Questions Government’s Terrorism Claim,” Ghana News Agency, 6 January 2015. 122. “Djibouti Leader Stumbles in London ‘Terror’ Case,” Africa Review, 19 February 2015. 123. Ibid. 124. “Djibouti Government Apologizes for Misleading UK Court,” Ghana News Agency, 8 March 2015. 125. Ibid. 126. Ibid. 127. “Dileita Mohamed Dileita, the Man Who Tipped the Balance in the Boreh Trial,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 6 Novermber 2015. 128. For the full document of the trial, including the final judgment, see Royal Courts of Justice, [2015] EWHC769 (Comm), Case no. 2012 FOLIO 1333, https:// 7kbw.co.uk/wp-content/uploads/2016/05/Boreh-Djibouti-FINAL-READ-ONLY -Judgment-2.pdf. 129. Daniel Finn, “Djibouti Businessman Abdourahman Boreh Cleared of Corruption Charges by London Court,” Radio France International, 2 March 2016; “Boreh Trial Failure Costs IOG $65 Million,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 4 March 2016. 130. “DP World and Boreh Take Action Against IOG,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 6 May 2018.

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131. Ibid. 132. “DP World Wins Tribunal Case Against Djibouti over Bribe Case,” Financial Times, 21 February 2017. 133. “Rights Bodies Protest over Djibouti Opposition Arrest,” BBC Monitoring Africa, 25 March 2017. 134. “Multiple Part Election Without an Opposition,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 19 January 2018. 135. Ibid. 136. Ibid. 137. Ibid. 138. Ibid. 139. “Guelleh Lets Media Frenzy Engulf Djama Speed,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 26 May 2017. 140. On some of the assertions regarding the likely successor, see “Power Vacuum on Back of Family and Tribal Tension,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 16 September 2016; “A Succession Race at Daggers Drawn,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 2 March 2018. 141. Dunbar, “The Unification of Yemen,” 459–463. 142. Brehony, “Yemen and the Huthis,” 232–250. 143. On the Houthi, see Freeman, “The al Houti Insurgency in the North of Yemen.” 144. It is difficult to give the intricate details of the civil war in this limited space. For a comprehensive account of the crisis of the Yemeni state since 2011 see Hill, Yemen Endures. 145. On how the Houthi became central in the political affairs of Yemen and eventually in the rapid changes after 2011, see Brehony, “Yemen and the Huthis.” 146. For a comprehensive account of how regional movements, particularly the secessionist movement in the south, developed to the point of open demands, see Day, Regionalism and Rebellion in Yemen. 147. On al-Qaeda and other Islamic militant groups in Yemen, see International Crisis Group, Yemen’s al-Qaeda. 148. The United States provides several kinds of support to the coalition, including air refueling. In addition to diplomatic support, the UK provides training and weapons to the coalition force. France has provided arms to forces in the coalition. According to Human Rights Watch, the arms supplied by the United States and the UK include banned cluster ammunitions, which have been used by coalition forces. On the involvement of the three nations, see Human Rights Watch, World Report 2018, 637. For a detailed account of the coalition force and their engagement in Yemen, see Hokayem and Roberts, “The War in Yemen.” On the use of cluster ammunition in the conflict, see Sudarsan Raghavan, “A Cluster Bomb Made in America Shattered Lives in Yemen’s Capital,” Washington Post, 10 June 2016; Patrick Wintour, “Saudi Arabia and UK-Supplied Cluster Bombs: What Do We Know?” Guardian, 19 December 2016. 149. “Revealed: Network of Secret Bases That Is Taking the Fight to Al-Qaeda,” The Times, 26 July 2011. 150. Ibid. 151. “More than $51.5 Million Worth of Aircraft Headed to African Countries,” Inside the Air Force, 29 July 2011. 152. “Joint Statement by President Obama and President Ismail Omar Guelleh of Djibouti,” Weekly Compilation of Presidential Documents (WCPD), 5 May 2014. 153. Zachary A. Goldfarb, “U.S., Djibouti Reach Agreement to Keep Counterterrorism Base in the Horn of Africa Nation,” Washington Post, 6 May 2014. 154. Ibid.

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155. Katharine Lackey, “U.S. Forces Evacuate Yemen Air Base,” USA Today, 21 March 2015. 156. “Yemen Crisis: Houthi Rebels ‘Driven from Key al-Anad Air Base,’” BBC, 4 August 2015. 157. Rachel Savage and Mohammed Ali Kalfood, “All Roads Lead to Djibouti as Refugees Flee Yemen Even as Migrants Head There,” Guardian, 23 May 2016. 158. Megha Rajagoplan and Ben Blanchard, “China Evacuates Foreign Nationals from Yemen in Unprecedented Move,” Reuters, 3 April 2015. 159. Ibid. 160. Aoyama, “One Belt, One Road.” 161. On Ethiopian emulation of the Chinese model following the 2005 election, see Fourie, “China’s Example for Meles’ Ethiopia.” 162. On the Tazara railway line, see Monson, Africa’s Freedom Railway. 163. “A New Generation of Rail Pioneers,” China Daily, 3 October 2014. 164. Ibid. 165. “The War of Ports Has Begun,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 21 July 2012. 166. “Chinese Companies on the Attack,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 4 January 2013. 167 “Djibouti Ends Dubai’s DP World Contract to Run Container Terminal,” Reuters, 22 February 2018. 168. “Djibouti Opens $590M World Class Mega Port Co. Funded by China,” All Africa News, 25 May 2017. 169. Ibid. 170. Alex Lennane, “DP World Wins Again and Legal Costs Rack Up for Djibouti and China Merchants,” Loadstar, 20 October 2022, https://theloadstar.com/dp -world-wins-again-and-legal-costs-rack-up-for-djibouti-and-china-merchants/. 171. “Djibouti Opens New Port for Ethiopia Potash Exports,” Reuters, 15 June 2017. 172. Ibid.; “Chinese Companies on the Attack,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 4 January 2013. 173. Abdourahim Arteh, “Djibouti Breaks Ground on Massive Chinese-Backed Free Trade Zone,” Reuters, 16 January 2017. 174. On Chinese involvement in anti-piracy activity in the Gulf of Aden since 2009, see Kamerling and van der Putten, “An Overseas Navy Presence Without an Overseas Base.” 175. Downs, Becker, and de Gategno, China’s Military Support Facility in Djibouti, 29. 176. “Clash with Abu Dhabi Remodels Regional Alliance,” Indian Ocean Newsletter, 15 May 2015; “Chinese Military Declines to Confirm Djibouti Base Plan,” Reuters, 22 June 2015. 177. “China Defence Ministry Announces Official Opening of Naval Logistical Center in Djibouti,” Sputnik News Service, 11 July 2017. 178. “Chinese Opens First Overseas Base in Africa,” AFP, 1 August 2017. 179. For a comprehensive account regarding the South China sea dispute, see Hayton, The South China Sea.

8 What Next for Djibouti?

DJIBOUTIANS SUCCEEDED IN FORMING AN INDEPENDENT STATE,

as did those in many other formerly colonized societies around the world. Also as in many former colonies, this great achievement ended in tragedy. In this book, I have explored the main factors contributing to the failure of the romance of the state in Djibouti. The colonialist structuring of political engagement in terms of ethnicity played a central role. Rather than dismantling the ethnic-politics matrix, the independence that was won through negotiation continued this entanglement of ethnicity with politics. This has resulted in a hierarchy of citizenship in Djibouti in which the Issa are believed to benefit from the state more than other ethnic groups, particularly the second-largest group, the Afar. Previous scholarly works on Djibouti have often attributed the tragedy of its postcolonial state to this hierarchy, which led to corruption and intense conflict between the two groups. Although I acknowledge the role of interethnic conflict, I argue that this is only one factor among the multiple factors that contributed to the tragedy. In fact, even certain Issa politicians who aspired to leadership positions were systematically sidelined or removed. The role of the political elite who have managed postindependence Djibouti cannot be ignored in the making of the tragedy. By establishing a one-party system, and by creating a strong patronage complex in which the state apparatus and business opportunities are controlled by members of the presidential family and their associates, the postcolonial elite became key players in the repeated decline of the romance of the state. In addition to examining these internal issues, I have explained the role of various external elements in this repeated story in which the 191

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romance of the state is converted into tragedy for the masses and opportunities for the elite. I have emphasized the great geopolitical relevance of Djibouti in controlling the movement of capital, including oil. The elite control this strategic place, using the resulting rent to further entrench themselves in the name of stabilizing the country. The tragedy of 9/11; the tragedy of Somalia, which resulted in the problem of piracy; the tragedy of Yemen, which has been embroiled in civil war since the Arab Spring; the competition that China is facing in the world, particularly in Southeast Asia; and the continued presence of the French all became sources of rent, legitimacy, and protection for those in power, despite their flagrant human-rights violations and the purely performative elections that transferred power from uncle to nephew. Besides appealing to the international community to remedy this situation, particularly the French government, Djiboutians have repeatedly tried to engage with the state in the hope of actualizing the romance of the state. Opposition political parties, public demonstrations, and outright civil war were some of the methods that they deployed in their struggle. Their efforts were in vain, as the government sought to crush its opposition using tactics that included repression, negotiation, reform, and litigation. Since independence, these strategies have succeeded in fragmenting the opposition, as the elite succeeded in arriving at a series of political settlements that offered the opposition leaders opportunities such as positions within the government. For this reason, the political elites in Djibouti can be considered “recycled elites”—ones who change jobs and even political sides as opportunities for personal advancement present themselves. Their responsibility to represent the masses who want to bring about the romance of the state is largely forgotten. At present, Djibouti and the elite who are leading it seem to be at a new crossroads. The main factor in this has been the shake-up in Ethiopia that brought Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed to office after three years of severe and fatal civil unrest. One of the new government’s accomplishments is ending the decade-long hostilities with Eritrea. This change strongly affects Djibouti, because the enmity of the two countries contributed to the valorization of the Djiboutian space and thus to the entrenchment of the ruling elite. The establishment of peaceful relations between Ethiopia and Eritrea will normalize trade relations and open the Eritrean ports of Assab and Massawa to Ethiopia. This in turn will reduce the flow of goods to Djibouti, as Assab is more convenient than Djibouti for exporting products from northern Ethiopia. The first Ethiopian cargo ship docked at Assab in

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September 2018—a symbolic opening of a new era that is likely to disadvantage Djibouti. 1 This is not the only problem Djibouti is facing, however. Besides the diversion of trade, the fact that the new friendship between Ethiopia and Eritrea has been backed by Saudi Arabia and the United Arab Emirates (UAE) is bound to raise issues for Djibouti, particularly for its elite. Although the Saudis are on friendly terms with Djibouti, the UAE is not, because of the contract that the Dubai Port Authority lost in the aftermath of Guelleh’s legal dispute with Abdourahman Boreh. The UAE is expected to follow a path that will undermine the interests of Djibouti. It has already proposed building an oil pipeline to run from Assab to Ethiopia—a project that, if it is undertaken, will potentially isolate Djibouti.2 The UAE company DP World has also committed itself to investing US$42 million to develop the Somali port of Berbera.3 In addition, the UAE has started building a naval base in Berbera based on an agreement signed with Somaliland in 2017—a move that has provoked an outcry from the Somalian government, which wants to bring the breakaway state into its fold and unite all the territory of Somalia under one government.4 It is difficult to judge how these UAE projects will affect Djibouti, because the actions of Qatar and Turkey, who were allied against the UAE-Saudi coalition in the Gulf crisis, will also matter. The two countries have already increased their presence in the Horn of Africa. Turkey has been able to gain a military base in Mogadishu and has trained Somali government forces.5 Similarly, in accordance with an agreement with the Sudanese government, Turkey plans to build a naval base in the port town of Suakin, which in the medieval period was a major port of the Ottoman Empire.6 Like Turkey, Qatar is intensifying its involvement in the Horn of Africa to counter increasing Saudi and UAE involvement. Qatar has given military equipment to the Somali government and has made a US$4 billion agreement with the government of Sudan to develop the port of Suakin.7 The Horn of Africa environment is growing more militarized by the day. The area is becoming a field of competition for Middle Eastern states, supplemented by the intense competition occurring between China and the United States and its allies. As this book was finalized, Russia had also entered into the competition by becoming the latest foreign actor vigorously pushing to have a place in the Horn of Africa. It is impossible to predict at the present time what the effects on Djibouti will be because, geopolitically speaking, Djibouti’s status will depend on the game that is played by these outside powers.

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Similarly, the potential damage that Djibouti faces from the rapprochement of Ethiopia and Eritrea cannot be calculated at the moment, given that Ethiopia is still in a fragile reform situation. Despite the many reforms and promises of hope since Abiy Ahmed became the prime minister, intense interethnic conflict in various parts of Ethiopia has caused the displacement of more than a million people and the deaths of thousands.8 The various ethnically constituted regional states of the country are also at odds with each other over internal regional boundaries. Ethiopia has seen a devastating war in the Tigray region as the Abiy-led federal government entered into conflict with the Tigrayan People’s Liberation Front (TPLF), which was the dominant force in Ethiopia until the coming of Abiy.9 At the time of this writing, the Ethiopian government and TPLF have signed a peace agreement to end the conflict, but the situation on the ground is not certain because the other major force involved in the fight, Eritrea, has not been part of the accord. Continuing and possibly new conflicts in Tigray could be a source of opportunity for Djibouti, because they will further valorize its strategic space. But even if the Ethiopian situation calms down and the country continues to enjoy peaceful relations with Eritrea, Djibouti is unlikely to completely lose its strategic significance. In the worst-case scenario, Djibouti will continue to be a nonhegemonic, strategically important country. For the foreseeable future, Djibouti will continue to host foreign military bases, which will give this tiny Horn of Africa state even greater value. As in the past, the presence of these bases is likely to shelter the country from regional proxy wars. Whether Djibouti continues as a hegemonic strategic power or as a diminished strategic power, it is unlikely that Djiboutians will ever experience the romance of the state, because the foreign military bases will tend to uphold those in power to maintain the status quo. This was true in the past when Djibouti had only one military base—the French base—and now the tiny country has a collection of military bases with long-term leases from the United States, Japan, and China. Furthermore, external dynamics are not the only factors that will block the romance of the state. The persistent colonial legacy and the unrealizable Enlightenment-based millenarian vision that sees the modern nation-state as a container for equality, liberty, and justice both militate against it. It seems that in the near future, Djiboutians are bound to live in a situation in which they have a continuous desire for the romance of the state but instead have a continuing experience of the tragedies for the masses and opportunities for the elites that come with it.

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It also seems that Djiboutians—along with other Africans who have experienced disillusionment regarding the postcolonial state— need to rethink the way forward by reimagining the game in which politics has been actualized in “independent” Africa as building hope for freedom through a repeat of tried and tested strategies, such as elections. As this book has demonstrated, these strategies have merely led to a cycle of romance–tragedy–opportunity that benefits only the elite. This rethinking should also be undertaken by scholars and concerned bodies outside the continent, because Africa does not exist in isolation but in a world marked by convergence, wherein Africa is in the world and the world is in Africa. A reconsideration from outside of Africa is particularly needed to break out of the trend of short-term solutions that maintain the political status quo, benefiting the elite but not the masses. These do not solve the problem but only extend it into an inevitable future where tragedies that could have been minimized are multiplied, emboldened, and entrenched. The one world that is shared by Djiboutians, other Africans, and everyone else deserves a better political situation, and a hope of seeing this improvement has driven me to write this book. Convinced that what social scientists could offer as solutions are merely problematizations of sociopolitical existence, I have tried to understand current political predicaments by engaging in a multifactor analysis. It is my hope that this will provide an insight, a ray, a lens that policymakers, scholars, and concerned bodies can use to better understand the Horn of Africa and the strategic Red Sea region.

Notes

1. Aaron Massho, “Ships, Docks, Road Upgrade Planned as Eritrea–Ethiopia Ties Strengthened,” Euro News, 5 September 2018. 2. “UAE Plans Oil Pipeline from Ethiopia to Eritrea in Latest Horn of Africa Move,” Reuters, 10 August 2018. 3. Charlie Mitchell, “DP World Launches $442m Port Expansion in Somaliland,” The National, 11 October 2018. 4. “Somalia Calls for UN Against UAE Base in Berbera,” Al Jazeera, 27 March 2018. 5. Abdirahman Hussein and Orhan Coskun, “Turkey Opens Military Base in Mogadishu to Train Soldiers,” Reuters, 30 September 2017. 6. Mohamed Amin, “Suakin: Forgotten Sudanese Island Becomes Focus for Red Sea Rivalries,” Middle East Eye, 18 March 2018. 7. Dominic Dudley, “East Africa Becomes a Testing Ground for UAE and Qatar as They Battle for Influence and Opportunity,” Forbes, 4 April 2018. 8. Yarnell, Crisis Below the Headlines. 9. See Fisher and Gebrewahd, “‘Game Over’?”

List of Acronyms

ACCPUF ACOTA ACRI AFP ALF AMISOM ANL APF AQAP ARD ARDHD AROD BIMR CCSDN CDU CENI CERD CIA COD CODEPP CUD DAT DBLE

Association des Cours Constitutionnelles   Partageant l’Usage du Français African Contingency Operation Training and Assistance African Crisis Response Initiative Agence France-Presse Afar Liberation Front African Union Mission to Somalia Assemblée Nationale Légitime Assemblée Parlementaire de la Francophonie Al-Qaeda in the Arabian Peninsula Alliance Républicaine pour le Développement Association pour le Respect des Droits de   l’Homme à Djibouti Action pour une Révision de l’Ordre à Djibouti Banque Indosuez Mer Rouge Commission Consultative du Secret de   la Défense Nationale Centre Démocratie Unifié Commission Electorale Nationale Indépendante Centre d’étude et de recherche de Djibouti Central Intelligence Agency Coordination de l’Opposition Djiboutienne Committee in Europe for the Defense of   Political Prisoners Center for United Democrats Détachement Autonome de Transmission Demi-brigade de la Légion Étrangère 197

198

Acronyms

DCC DFZ DGSE DIFC DMSS DOM-TOM DPA DPFZA DRTC ENOC EUCAP   NESTRO EUNAVFOR FDLD FIDH FLCS FNS FRDL FRPD FRUD GDP ICC ICJ ICU IFES IGAD IMO IRI ISIS LDDH LPAI MLD MLP MNDID MoDeL MPL MRD MSPA NAVCENT

Djibouti Code of Conduct Djibouti Free Zone Direction Générale de la Sécurité Extérieure Dubai International Financial Center Djibouti Maritime Security Services Départements d’Outre-Mer–Territoires d’Outre-Mer Dubai Port Authority Djibouti Port and Free Zone Authority Djibouti Regional Training Center Emirates National Oil Company European Union Mission on Regional Maritime   Capacity European Union Combined Naval Force Front Démocratique de Libération de Djibouti Fédération Internationale des Droits de l’Homme Front de Libération de la Côte Française des Somalis Force Nationale de Sécurité Front pour la Restauration du Droit et de Légalité Front de la Résistance Patriotique de Djibouti Front pour la Restauration de l’Unité et de   la Démocratie gross domestic product International Criminal Court International Court of Justice Islamic Court Union International Foundation for Electoral Systems Intergovernmental Authority on Development International Maritime Organization International Republican Institute Islamic State of Iraq and Syria Ligue Djiboutienne des Droits Humains Ligue Populaire Africaine pour l’Indépendance Mouvement pour la Libération de Djibouti Marxist-Leninist Party Mouvement National Djiboutien pour l’Instauration   de la Démocratie Mouvement pour le Développement et la Liberté Mouvement Populaire pour la Libération Mouvement pour le Renouveau Démocratique et   le Développement Maritime Security Patrol Area United States Naval Forces Central Command

Acronyms

NEPAD OIF PAID PDD PND PPD PPSD PRD PSC RADD RFI RPP RPP-GDR RSF SDS TEU TFG TPLF UAD UAE UDJ UDJ-PDD UFO UGT UK UMD UMP UMP UN UNEP UNI USC USN USSR VOA WFP

199

New Partnership for African Development Organisation Internationale de la Francophonie Port Autonome International de Djibouti Parti Djiboutien pour le Développement Parti National Démocratique Parti Populaire Djiboutien Parti Populaire Social-Démocrate Parti de Renouveau Démocratique private security company Rassemblement pour l’Action, la Démocratie et   le Développement Radio France Internationale Rassemblement Populaire pour le Progrès Groupe pour la Démocratie et la République Reporters sans Frontières (Reporters Without Borders) Service de Documentation et de Sécurité twenty-foot equivalent unit Transitional Federal Government Tigrayan People’s Liberation Front Union pour l’Alternance Démocratique United Arab Emirates Union pour la Démocratie et la Justice Union for Democracy and Justice–Djibouti   Democracy Party Union des Femmes de l’Opposition Union Générale des Travailleurs Djiboutiens United Kingdom Union des Mouvements Démocratiques Union pour un Mouvement Populaire (France) Union pour la Majorité Présidentielle (Djibouti) United Nations United Nations Environment Program Union Nationale pour l’Indépendance Union Sacrée pour le Changement Union pour le Salut National Union of Soviet Socialist Republics Voice of America World Food Programme

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Index

Abdel Nasser, Gamal, 30 Abdi Noel, Jean-Paul, 99, 101, 119 Abdillahi, Mahadhi, 111 Abdillahi, Mohamed Barakat, 112 Abdou, Abatte Ebo, 185n27 Abdou, Adan Mohamed, 168, 172, 176 Abdou, Maki Omar, 115 Aboubeker, Ali Guelleh, 69, 70 Abrahamsen, Rita, 149n141 Accord de Réforme et de Concorde Civile, 98, 99, 100 ACCPUF. See Association des Cours Constitutionnelles Partageant l’Usage du Français ACOTA. See African Contingency Operation Training and Assistance Adal, 17–18 Adal-Abyssinia war, 31 Adawa, Kamil, 97 Adaweh, Amir, 90n53 Aden, port of, 20, 80–81, 94n144 Adloff, Richard, 2 Adou, Adou Ali, 47 Adwa, battle of, 21 Afar ethnic group, 6, 32, 36, 37n15, 45, 100; Adal relation to, 17; in Arhiba district, 88; Assahyamara, 33; Danakil, 23; democratization relation to, 48–49; A. Dini relation to, 43; in FRUD army, 97; Issa relation to, 65, 77, 122, 191 Afar Liberation Front (ALF), 44 Afeworki, Isaias, 65, 104 AFP. See Agence France-Presse African Contingency Operation Training and Assistance (ACOTA), 126, 148n114 African Union, 31, 34, 127, 171

African Union Mission to Somalia (AMISOM), 125, 126, 132, 135. See also Somalia Agence France-Presse (AFP), 139, 183 Ahmed, Abiy, 192, 194 Ahmed, Ali Deberkale, 172 Ahmed, Ougoureh Kifleh, 52, 68, 69 ALF. See Afar Liberation Front Alhoumekani, Mohamed Saleh, 78, 79, 92n105 Ali, Djama, 29 Ali, Muhammad, 19 Ali Ouney, 126 Allan Potash Corp., 182 Allen, Chris, 10, 65 Alliance Républicaine pour le Développement (ARD), 73, 86, 99, 100–101, 159, 176 AMISOM. See African Union Mission to Somalia ANL. See Assemblée Nationale Légitime APF. See Assemblée Parlementaire de la Francophonie Aptidon, Hassan Gouled, 5, 41–42, 45, 51, 52–53, 61; in civil war, 49–50; France relation to, 54, 55, 66; at I. Guelleh inauguration, 88; Harbi relation to, 30; LPAI led by, 35; RPP relation to, 11, 46, 56; Tribalism relation to, 43–44 AQAP. See Al-Qaeda in the Arabian Peninsula Arab ethnic group, 27, 28, 30–31, 32, 36–37 Arab League, 3, 45, 75 Arab Spring, 8, 12–13, 117, 119–120, 153, 178; democratization relation to, 121 Aramis, Aramis Mohamed, 97 Archeology, 36n1 ARD. See Alliance Républicaine pour le Développement

211

212

Index

ARDHD, 116–117 Aref, Ali, 33, 34 Aref, Aref Mohamed, 62, 67 Areva, 138 Arhiba district, 88 Arnaoud, Idris, 155 Arrests, as political tactic, 163–164, 185n41 Arta region, 138 Article 98 agreement, 94n148 ‘As ‘Ela, 15 Asmara, US base in, 33 Assa Gueyla region, 104, 114 Assab, Eritrea, 20, 192–193 Assahyamara Afar, 33 Assemblée de l’Union Française, 28 Assemblée Nationale Légitime (ANL), 167, 168 Assemblée Parlementaire de la Francophonie (APF), 75 Assemblée Territoriale de la Côte Française des Somalis, 30 L’association Al Birri, 157 Association des Cours Constitutionnelles Partageant l’Usage du Français (ACCPUF), 75–76 Authoritarianism, 54–55, 64–65 Awaleh, Aden Robleh, 35, 46–47, 50–51, 53, 113, 120; BBC Somali service interview of, 115–116; I. Guelleh supported by, 85; MNDID relation to, 49; in UMP, 76 Awfat (Ifat), 17 Awssa, 17, 18, 32, 33 Axsumite Kingdom, 16 Bab el-Mandeb, 3, 15 Badiou, Alain, 153, 154 Banque Indosuez Mer Rouge (BIMR), 110, 135 Banque pour le Commerce et l’Industrie–Mer Rouge, 135 Baraoye Habai consultation group, 182 Barre, Siad, 124, 127, 147n100 Barreh, Ahmed Boulaleh, 53 Bashir, Abdourahman Souleiman, 157, 158, 160–162 Al-Bashir, Omar, 67, 88 BBC Somali service, 115–116 Bédié, Henri Konna, 133 Belbela, 161–162 Ben Ali, Zine El Abidine, 12, 117 Benson & Hedges, 111 Berbera, 16, 33, 36n3, 193 Bililis, Dini Abdallah, 105n7 BIMR. See Banque Indosuez Mer Rouge Bin Ahmed, Ahmed, 28 Bin Laden, Osama, 4, 83, 124, 178 Biya, Paul, 122–123

De Bonnecorse, Michel, 142 Border conflict, with Eritrea, 102–105, 135, 137 Boreh, Abdourahman, 81, 109–112, 113, 116, 120, 122; DPA relation to, 193; litigation against, 164–167, 174–176 Boreh, Mahmoud Mohamed, 110 Boreh International FZE, 166 Borrel, Bernard, 77–80, 138–140, 141, 142– 143 Bough, Amir, 47 Bouh, Yacin Elmi, 98, 102, 120 Boundaries, colonialism relation to, 36n3 Boycott, 98, 101, 167; of elections, 50, 87, 99, 101, 156, 162, 174, 177 Bratton, Michael, 64–65 Burkina Faso, 169 Bush, George W., 126, 130, 148n114 Cameron, David, 153 Cameroon, 122–123, 137 Camp Lemonier, 12, 83–84, 179 Cape of Good Hope, 128 Capital, 3, 7, 9, 44, 129, 192; in DFZ, 81–82; phantom democracy relation to, 153, 154; piracy effect on, 128–129 CCSDN. See Commission Consultative du Secret de la Défense Nationale CDU. See Centre Démocratie Unifié CENI. See Commission Electorale Nationale Indépendante Census, of ethnic groups, 24–25 Center for United Democrats (CUD), 167, 176 Central Intelligence Agency (CIA), 83 Centre Démocratie Unifié (CDU), 156 Chabal, Patrick, 55, 64 Chad, 122–123, 134 Chedville, Edouard, 25 Chehem, Mohamed Daoud, 73, 86–87, 97, 120 Cheikh, Ahmed Mahadi, 78 China, 13, 16, 50, 149n129, 180; Ethiopia relation to, 33–34, 181; military base of, 4, 182–183; US relation to, 193 China Civil Engineering Construction Corporation, 181 China Merchant Holding Company, 181–182 Chirac, Jacques, 51, 79, 139–140, 142 CIA. See Central Intelligence Agency Citizen and Subject (Mamdani), 25 Citizenship, 6, 9, 26, 191 Civil war, 6, 13, 50, 70, 157; FRUD in, 12, 51–52; for multiparty democracy, 49, 56; in Somalia, 124–125, 147n100 Clause secrète, 134, 135 Clément, Sophie, 78, 138 COD. See Coordination de l’Opposition Djiboutienne

Index CODEPP. See Committee in Europe for the Defense of Political Prisoners Cohen, Bernard, 22 Cold War, 3, 33–34, 48 Cole, USS, 83, 94n144 Colonialism, 1–2, 11, 25, 29, 36, 36n3; ethnic groups relation to, 23–24, 77, 191; political modernity through, 7–8 Combined Task Force (CTF), 150n152 Commission Consultative du Secret de la Défense Nationale (CCSDN), 78 Commission Electorale Nationale Indépendante (CENI), 87 Committee in Europe for the Defense of Political Prisoners (CODEPP), 63 Conseil de Gouvernement, 30 Conseil de la République, 29 Conseil Représentatif, 26, 29–30 Constitution: amendment of, 114–115, 122– 123; Mouhoumed death relation to, 116 Convention of Mutual Assistance in Criminal Matters, 138–139 Coordination de l’Opposition Djiboutienne (COD), 53 Coubèche, Said Ali, 28, 29, 30 Coup d’état, 91n63, 121, 133, 147n100, 154 Crédit Agricole Indosuez, 135 CTF. See Combined Task Force CTF-150(151), 150n152 CUD. See Center for United Democrats Daloz, Jean-Pascal, 55, 64 Danakil, 23 Daoud, Ali Mohamed, 52, 85, 100 Daoud, Omar, 97 DAT. See Détachement Autonome de Transmission Dato, Ali Mohamed, 172 Dawaleh, Ilyas Moussa, 155, 177 Dawaleh, Yousouf Mohamed, 166 DCC. See Djibouti Code of Conduct Déby, Idriss, 122–123, 134 Decolonization, 1, 34–35, 48, 55, 122, 124; negotiation in, 36, 170–171 Décret 20009-030/PRE, 129 Defense piracy, 127–128 Democracy, 52, 147n100, 169; elite relation to, 170, 172–173; multiparty, 48–51, 56, 64–65, 72–73; phantom, 153, 154 Democracy International, 119, 121 Democratization, 1, 48–49, 55, 80, 121, 122 Départements d’Outre-Mer–Territoires d’Outre-Mer (DOM-TOM), 35 Derg, 32, 34, 49 Deschamps, Hubert, 24–25 Détachement Autonome de Transmission (DAT), 143

213

DFZ. See Djibouti Free Zone DGSE. See Direction Générale de la Sécurité Extérieure DIFC. See Dubai International Financial Center Dileita, Dileita Mohamed, 103–104, 110, 155, 175 Dini, Ahmed, 35, 45, 46, 52, 70, 85–86; Afar relation to, 43; election contested by, 74– 76; FRUD relation to, 67, 69; UMP relation to, 73–74 Dini, Cassim Ahmed, 86, 176 Direction de l’Afrique et de l’Océan Indien (Directorate of Africa and the Indian Ocean), 140 Direction Générale de la Sécurité Extérieure (DGSE), 78 Directorate of Africa and the Indian Ocean (Direction de l’Afrique et de l’Océan Indien), 140 Djibouti 2016 Movement, 172 Djibouti Code of Conduct (DCC), 131–132 Djibouti Dry Port FZCO, 166 Djibouti Free Zone (DFZ), 81–82, 166 Djibouti Maritime Security Services (DMSS), 129, 130 Djibouti Port and Free Zone Authority (DPFZA), 109–110, 165, 166, 181–182 Djibouti Port Authority, 12, 93n128 Djibouti Regional Training Center (DRTC), 132 Djibouti Telecom, 136 DMSS. See Djibouti Maritime Security Services DOM-TOM. See Départements d’Outre-MerTerritoires d’Outre-Mer Donghaidao, CNS, 183 Doraleh (terminal), 81, 109, 111, 182 D’Ornano, Camille, 41 Doualeh, Aden Ahmed, 110 DP World, 176, 182, 193 DPA. See Dubai Port Authority DPFZA. See Djibouti Port and Free Zone Authority Drieh, Aden Dalieh, 172 DRTC. See Djibouti Regional Training Center Dubai, 175 Dubai International Financial Center (DIFC), 165 Dubai Port Authority (DPA), 81–82, 166, 167, 182, 193 Economic aid, 45–46, 72, 84, 127 Egypt, 19, 20, 30, 121, 154, 157 Elabeh, Mohamed Djama, 51, 54 Elections, 12, 26, 28, 46, 56, 63; boycott of, 50, 87, 99, 101, 156, 162, 174, 177; A.

214

Index

Dini contesting, 74–76; elite in, 64–65, 195; multiparty democracy in, 50–51, 72– 73; for regional assemblies, 99–100, 101; 2008 legislative, 101–102; 2018 legislative, 176; 2011 presidential, 120– 121, 153; 2005 presidential, 85–88; 2016 presidential, 172, 173–174; 2013 legislative, 161, 167, 169; 2012 local municipal, 154–156, 159; 2021 presidential, 177; UMP in, 73–74, 154– 155, 159, 161, 176 Electoral law no. 1/AN/92, 156 Elite, 5–6, 56, 66, 76, 82, 131; decolonization relation to, 36, 48; democracy relation to, 170, 172–173; in elections, 64–65, 195; Ethiopia-Eritrea war relation to, 80; military bases relation to, 9; recycled, 121, 122, 192; reform relation to, 154; romance of the state relation to, 6–7, 77, 191–192, 194; War on Terror relation to, 12; Yemen relation to, 178; Yemeni civil war relation to, 13 Elysée Palace, 142, 143 Emdo, Omar Ali, 176 Emirates National Oil Company (ENOC), 81– 82 Energy Information Administration, United States, 3 Enlightenment Europe, 7 ENOC. See Emirates National Oil Company Environment Programme, UN, 127 Equatorial Guinea, 122–123 Eritrea, 12, 21, 102–105, 135, 137, 176; Ethiopia relation to, 65–66, 69, 80, 192– 193, 194 Ethiopia, 6, 16, 17, 21, 47, 90n53; China relation to, 33–34, 181; Derg in, 49; Egypt relation to, 20; Eritrea relation to, 65–66, 69, 80, 192–193, 194; famine in, 93n128; ICU relation to, 125; MLD in, 35; Somalia relation to, 31–32, 42, 44–45, 55 Ethnic groups, 6, 7–8, 25, 26, 55, 170–171; colonialism relation to, 23–24, 77, 191; political modernity relation to, 28. See also Afar ethnic group; Arab ethnic group; Issa ethnic group; Somali ethnic group EUCAP NESTRO. See European Union Mission on Regional Maritime Capacity EUNAVFOR. See European Union Combined Naval Force Europe, 7, 20 European Union, 72, 171, 183 European Union Combined Naval Force (EUNAVFOR), 130–131 European Union Mission on Regional Maritime Capacity (EUCAP NESTRO), 131

Exim bank, 181 Failed states, 148n109 Faina, MV, 128 Falconer, Lord, 175 Famine, 80, 93n128 Fanon, Frantz, 36 Farah, Ali Abdi, 68, 94n148 Farah, Daher Ahmed, 68, 76, 83, 86, 113, 158; A. D. Ahmed relation to, 172; arrest of, 162, 163, 164; on election fraud, 161; MRD relation to, 73; on 2018 legislative election, 176 Farah, Houssein Ahmed, 101, 160 Farah, Moumin Bahdon, 53, 76, 85, 98, 139 Farah, Saada Badr, 172 Farah, Sougueh Ahmed, 185n27 Federal Bureau of Investigation, US, 167 Fédération Internationale des Droits de l’Homme (FIDH), 162 Ferguson, James, on vertical conceptualization of the state, 10 FIDH. See Fédération Internationale des Droits de l’Homme Le Figaro (newspaper), 66, 78 Financial Times (publication), 43 Flaux (Justice), 175 FLCS. See Front de Libération de la Côte Française des Somalis FNS. See Force Nationale de Sécurité Foccart, Jacques, 54 Force Nationale de Sécurité (FNS), 49 Foreign interest, 84–86 Foucault, Michel, 22, 136 France, 2, 11, 23–24, 183, 189n148, 192; African policy of, 133–134, 141; African Union relation to, 34; Aptidon relation to, 54, 55, 66; Arabs relation to, 30–31; capital of, 44; citizenship in colonies of, 26; in civil war, 49–50, 51–52; defense agreement of, 136–137; democratization relation to, 80; Ethiopia-Eritrea war relation to, 65–66; ethnic groups relation to, 7–8; Galab relation to, 91n63; Great Britain relation to, 41; I. Guelleh relation to, 66, 78, 80, 133, 141–142; ICJ relation to, 138–139; Lagarde relation to, 20–21; litigation in, 165; military aid from, 151n177; military base of, 4, 45–46, 79; missile tests of, 137–138; Paris, 35; in postcolonial Djibouti, 3, 47– 48, 77–78; propaganda affecting, 31; romance of the state relation to, 42; in Rwanda, 125; al-Sisi relation to, 154; Somalia relation to, 135; treaties of, 19 French Tonkin War, 20 Front de Libération de la Côte Française des Somalis (FLCS), 35, 49

Index Front pour la Restauration de l’Unité et de la Démocratie (FRUD), 49–50, 68, 76, 113– 114, 116, 158; Accord de Réforme et de Concorde Civile relation to, 70–71, 98; in civil war, 12, 51–52; A. Dini relation to, 67, 69; Mabla Mountain relation to, 97; RPP relation to, 54, 87, 99–100 FRUD. See Front pour la Restauration de l’Unité et de la Démocratie Gabili Arabs, 27 Gabod prison, 63, 70, 102, 104, 112, 118 Gabode area, 118 Gadaboursi, 21, 29 Galab, Yasin Yabeh, 70, 91n63 Ganascia, Michele, 142 De Gaulle, Charles, 32 Germany, 4 Al-Ghazi, Ahmad Ibrahim, 17–18 Gibson, Dunn & Crutcher, 165 Girogis, Girma Wolde, 88 Glück, Zoltán, 129 Gobad, 18 God, Abdourahman Barakat, 157, 160–162, 185n27 Gorbachev, Mikhail, 177 Gota, Obtan, 71 Goubbet el-Karba, 21 Gragn, Ahmad, 31 Grand Bara desert, 138 Gray, Peter, 175 Great Britain, 19, 20, 21, 31, 131, 189n148; France relation to, 41; nationalism relation to, 39n105 Groupe Banque Populaire, 135 Groupe pour la Démocratie et la République (RPP-GDR), 53 Guardian (newspaper), 179 Guelleh, Abdillahi Hamareteh, 54 Guelleh, Abdourahman Mohamed (Abdourahman TX), 154–155, 176 Guelleh, Awale, 92n105 Guelleh, Ismail Omar, 5, 11, 52, 72–73, 92n105, 168; Borrel relation to, 78–79; Chirac relation to, 139–140; constitution amendment relation to, 114–115, 122–123; France relation to, 66, 78, 80, 133, 141– 142; in Jeune Afrique, 68–69, 72, 77, 102, 141–142, 173; in Mamassen clan, 117; piracy relation to, 150n152; in RPP, 61– 62; Sarkozy relation to, 143; third mandate of, 12–13, 112, 119; in 2005 presidential election, 85, 87, 88; in 2016 presidential election, 173, 174; in 2021 presidential election, 177; US relation to, 83, 84; USN relation to, 161; VOA interview with, 162 Gulf Cooperation Countries, 178

215

Gulf of Aden, 3, 129, 132, 150n152 Hadi, Abdourakhman Mansour, 178 Haid, Kadra Mahmood, 112, 113 Halloyta, Mohamed, 114 Hamadou, Barakat Gourad, 45, 50, 67–68 Hamadou, Ibrahim, 110 Al-Hamdānī, Abū Muhammad al Hassan, 16 Hamdi, Ali, 104 Hamiri, Abdallah, 101 Harar, 18 Harbi, Mahamoud, 29, 30 Hared, Ismail Guedi, 86, 99, 120, 159, 172; election boycott by, 101; negotiation by, 168–169; RPP-GDR founded by, 53; UDJ relation to, 73 Al-Harithi, Ali Qaed Sinan, 83 Hassan, Abdi Bogoreh, 115, 116, 117 Hawash, 37n15 Hegel, Georg Wilhelm Friedrich, 170 High Islamic Council, 160 Hiil One Battalion, 125–126 Hijaz Ottoman administration, 18 Hildid, Farah Abadid, 119, 159–160, 185n41 Al-Hirak, 178 Hong Kong High Court, 182 Horizon Djibouti Holding, 166 Houffaneh, Hassan Darar, 160, 161 Houmed, Ahmed Youssouf, 86, 162, 173, 176 Houmed, Ali Mahamed, 53, 87 Houmed, Ismail Ibrahim, 71 Houphouët-Boigny, Félix, 133 Houssein, Fathi Ahmed, 84 Houthi rebels, 178 Human rights, 63, 64, 83, 169–170, 192 Humanitarian crisis, in Somalia, 129 Humanitarianism, capital relation to, 129 Hunger strike, 63, 67 Huntington, Samuel, 121 Ibn Hawqal, 16 Ibrahim, Abou Bakr, 19 Ibrahim, Zakaria Cheikh, 76, 103–104, 114 ICC. See International Criminal Court ICJ. See International Court of Justice ICU. See Islamic Court Union Idriss, Moussa Ahmed, 62, 63–64, 68 Ifat (Awfat), 17 IFES. See International Foundation for Electoral Systems Ifftin, Ali, 138 IGAD. See Intergovernmental Authority on Development Illegal fishing, 128, 148n123 Iman Ingénierie, 111 Imbert-Vier, Simon, 23, 25 IMO. See International Maritime Organization

216

Index

India, 6, 180 Infrastructure, 136, 181–182 Institutions, 82 Insurrection, armed, 8 Intergovernmental Authority on Development (IGAD), 47 International Court of Justice (ICJ), 138–139, 140 International Criminal Court (ICC), 94n148 International Foundation for Electoral Systems (IFES), 87–88 International Maritime Organization (IMO), 131–132 International Republican Institute (IRI), 87–88 Invisible Committee, 136 Iran, 3 IRI. See International Republican Institute ISIS. See Islamic State of Iraq and Syria Islam, 156–157, 158, 160 Islamic Court Union (ICU), 124–125 Islamic State of Iraq and Syria (ISIS), 178 Ismail, Khedive, 20 Ismail, Omar, 158 Israel, 94n145 Issa ethnic group, 21, 23, 29, 43, 113; Afar relation to, 65, 77, 122, 191 Issa Somalis, 14n16, 25, 45 Issa/Fourlaba, 185n27 Issak clan, 117, 122 Issa/Mamassen clan, 6, 14n16, 98, 113, 122; Issak clan relation to, 117 Issa/Ogagodan clan, 122 Issouf, Ismail, 68 Al-Istahri, 16 Italy, 20, 21, 31 Ivory Coast, 133 Japan, 4, 132, 150n155, 183 Jean-Bart (antiaircraft frigate), 66 Jeune Afrique (publication), 68–69, 72, 85, 102, 141–142, 173; on colonialism, 77 Jinggangshan, CNS, 183 Jospin, Lionel, 133 Joubert, Bruno, 142 Kadamy, Mohamed, 70, 113 Kagame, Paul, 88 Kahire, Hassan Said, 138, 139, 141, 142 Kalaf, 103 Kamil, Abdallah Mohamed, 34–35, 45 Kamil, Mohamed Ali, 105n7 Kamil, Naguib Abdallah Mohamed, 177 Kassim, Housein, 110 Kelche, Jean-Pierre, 69 Kenya, 31, 82, 128 Khadafo (Sultan), 18 Khaireh, Hassan Said, 78

Khaireh, Omar Elmi, 174 Kītab almasalik wa-mamalik (al-Istahri), 16 Krasner, Stephen D., 131 Labor unions, 29, 30 Lagarde, Léonce, 20–21 Law no. 174/AN/02/4em, regional assemblies in, 98–99 LDDH. See Ligue Djiboutienne des Droits Humains Le Foll, Stéphane, 115 Le Loir, Roger, 78 Legendre, Jacques, 75 Lelong, Pierre, 93n113 Levitsky, Steven, 54 Liberalism, 124 Libération (journal), 142 Libya, 154 Ligue Djiboutienne des Droits Humains (LDDH), 99, 117 Ligue Populaire Africaine pour l’Indépendance (LPAI), 35 Litigation, as political tactic, 163, 164–167, 174–176 Livre Blanc (Sarkozy), 134, 137 Location of Djibouti Map, 4 Lochery, Emma, 82 Loita, Mohamed Habib, 47 London Court of International Arbitration, 166 London High Court, 165, 174–175 LPAI. See Ligue Populaire Africaine pour l’Indépendance Mabla Mountain, 97 MacArthur, Julie, 25 Madayto, 18 Maki, Ali, 70 Mamdani, Mahmood, 25 Map of Djibouti, 5 Margoita military base, 116 Mariam, Mengistu Haile, 34 Marines, US, 83 Maritime Security Patrol Area (MSPA), 150n152 Martine, Jean, 28 Marxist-Leninist Party (MLP), 44, 45, 46 Mashiekh Arabs, 27 Massawa, 18, 20 Al-Masudi, 16 Maydal, Guirreh, 161–162, 185n27 Messageries Maritime, 27 Miguil, Abdallah Abdillahi, 70 Miguil, Nima Djama, 112 Miguil, Said Ali, 155 Military aid, 151n177, 179, 189n148 Military bases, 3, 9, 116, 124, 194; Camp Lemonier as, 12, 83–84, 179; of China, 4,

Index 182–183; of France, 4, 45–46, 79; of Japan, 132; in Ras Doumeira, 103 Millenarian vision, 8, 194 Ministre des Colonies, 29 Ministry of State for Charitable and Religious Affairs, 160 Mirah, Hanfirah Ali, 32 Missile tests, of France, 137–138 Mitchell, Timothy, 22 Mitterrand, François, 48, 66, 133 MLD. See Mouvement pour la Libération de Djibouti MLP. See Marxist-Leninist Party MNDID. See Mouvement National Djiboutien pour l’Instauration de la Démocratie Mocha, 18, 19 MoDeL. See Mouvement pour le Développement et la Liberté Mohamed (prophet), 27 Mohamed, Abdallah, 117 Mohamed, Abdoulkader Kamil, 97, 155 Mohamed, Ismael Ahmed, 110 Mombasa Hotel, 94n145 Moncrieff, Richard, 134 Moniquet, Claude, 141 Moracchini, Marie-Paule, 78 Morice, Olivier, 111, 139 Morsi, Muhammad, 154 Mouffe, Chantal, 8 Mouhoumed, Abdillahi, 116–117 Mount Mabla, 114 Mount Massa Ali, 103 Mount Whitney (US warship), 83 Moussa, Mohamed Hassan, 155 Moussa, Otban Goita, 105n7 Moussa Ali, 104 Mouvement National Djiboutien pour l’Instauration de la Démocratie (MNDID), 47, 49 Mouvement Populaire pour la Libération (MPL), 35 Mouvement pour la Libération de Djibouti (MLD), 35 Mouvement pour le Développement et la Liberté (MoDeL), 157, 158, 161–162, 185n27 Mouvement pour le Renouveau Démocratique et le Développement (MRD), 73, 86, 104– 105, 172, 176 MPL. See Mouvement Populaire pour la Libération MRD. See Mouvement pour le Renouveau Démocratique et le Développement MSPA. See Maritime Security Patrol Area Mubarak, Hosni, 12, 117 Multiparty democracy, 48–51, 56, 64–65, 72– 73 Muse, Shaikh Yonis, 173

217

Museveni, Youweri, 123 Muslim Brotherhood, 154 Muslims, 27, 30, 160. See also Islam Naquis Arabs, 27 Nationalism, 39n105, 44 Naval Forces Central Command, US (NAVCENT), 150n152 Navy, US, in DFZ, 82 Negotiation, 36, 170–171; as political tactic, 163, 167–169, 172–173, 174 Neo Destour Party, 30 Neocolonialism, 36 Neoliberalism, 130–131, 149n141, 153 Neolithic culture, 15 Neopatrimonialism, 9 NEPAD. See New Partnership for African Development Net Support, 166 New Partnership for African Development (NEPAD), 149n141 Niger, 138 9/11 attacks, 82–83, 130 North Korea, 3 Obiang, Teodoro, 122–123 Obock region, 19, 20, 100, 116 Odahgob clan, 113 OIF. See Organisation Internationale de la Francophonie Oil, 3, 128, 149n129, 177, 192 Okieh, Djama Elmi, 176–177 Older newer elite, 6–7 Al-’Omari, Ibn Fadl Allah, 17 Operation Atalanta, 130–131 Operation Enduring Freedom, 82–83 Operation Raahat, 180 Opposition Djiboutienne Unifiée, 68 Oppression, 1–2 Organisation Internationale de la Francophonie (OIF), 75, 88 Oromo, 18 Osaghae, Eghosa, 10, 65 Ottoman Empire, 17–20 Oudine, Saleban, 105n7 Oued Houflo, 104 PAID. See Port Autonome International de Djibouti Le Palmier en Zinc, 45 Paraschos, Fabrice, 143 Paris, France, 35 Parisien (journal), 78 Parti de Renouveau Démocratique (PRD), 51, 54 Parti Djiboutien pour le Développement (PDD), 73, 86

218

Index

Parti National Démocratique (PND), 51 Parti Populaire Djiboutien (PPD), 46 Parti Populaire Social-Démocrate (PPSD), 73, 98 Parti Socialiste, 80 Patron-client relationships, 9–10, 141 Paulit, Monique, 75 PDD. See Parti Djiboutien pour le Développement Peace accord. See Accord de Réforme et de Concorde Civile People’s Liberation Army and Navy, 183 The Periplus of the Eritrean Sea (Schoff), 16 Piracy, 127–129, 130, 131, 183; ransom, 132, 148n123, 150n152 PND. See Parti National Démocratique Political modernity, 7–8, 26–27, 28, 29, 66 Political piracy, 127 Politics. See specific topics Port Autonome International de Djibouti (PAID), 80–81 Port Doraleh Multipurpose Port, 182 Portcullis Singapore, 165–166 Portugal, 17–18 Pos, Fabienne, 142 Powell, Colin, 94n148 Power, infrastructure relation to, 136 PPD. See Parti Populaire Djiboutien PPSD. See Parti Populaire Social-Démocrate PRD. See Parti de Renouveau Démocratique Presidential term limit, in constitution, 114 Private security companies (PSC), 129–130 Le Progrès (newspaper), 113 Propaganda, anti-France, 31 Protests, 75, 102, 115, 118, 161–162, 164; Arab Spring, 8, 12–13, 117, 119–120, 121, 153, 178; for reform, 48; of USN, 167, 171 Protohistoric culture, 15 PSC. See Private security companies Punt, 15–16 Al-Qaeda, 125, 154 Al-Qaeda in the Arabian Peninsula (AQAP), 178 Qatar, 193 Quai d’Orsay, 140 RADD. See Rassemblement pour l’Action, la Démocratie et le Développement Rahaito, 18 Al-Rahma Mosque, 157 Randa region, 103 Ransom piracy, 128–129, 132, 148n123, 150n152 Ras Doumeira, 103 Rassemblement Populaire pour le Progrès (RPP), 51, 61–62, 73, 101, 124, 155–156;

Aptidon relation to, 11, 46, 56; FRUD relation to, 54, 87, 99–100 Rassemblement pour l’Action, la Démocratie et le Développement (RADD), 154–155, 172 Recycled elite, 121, 122, 192 Red Crescent Society, 103 Red Sea, 3, 9, 128, 129, 132, 150n152; US in, 183 Red Sea Central, 111 Reform, 48, 154, 155–156, 169, 194; as political tactic, 174 Regional assemblies, 98–100, 101 Le Renouveau (newspaper), 68, 101 Rentier militarism, 129 Reporters sans Frontières (RSF), 160 Repression, 159–160, 161–162, 163, 170 La République (newspaper), 113 Resolution 1838, 129 Resolution 1851, 129 Resource piracy, 127 The Return of the Political (Mouffe), 8 Rice, Condoleezza, 140 Robleh, Ahmed Darar, 112, 113 Roesseler, Philip, 163 Romance, of the state, 1–2, 11, 42, 87, 123– 124, 170; elite relation to, 6–7, 77, 191–192, 194; foreign interest effect on, 84–85; political modernity relation to, 66; in Yemen, 177–178 RPP. See Rassemblement Populaire pour le Progrès RPP-GDR. See Groupe pour la Démocratie et la République RSF. See Reporters sans Frontières Rumsfeld, Donald, 83 Russia, 193. See also Union of Soviet Socialist Republics Rwanda, 54, 125 Sada Arabs, 27 Said, Djama Omar, 166 Saleh, Ali Abdullah, 177, 178 Samatar, Abdi Ismail, 127 Sarkozy, Nicolas, 102, 133–134, 136–137, 141, 142–143 Sarmark, Ali, 19 Sarr, Felwine, 124 Saudi Arabia, 3, 32, 44, 128, 178, 193; economic aid from, 45 Schmitt, Carl, 42 Scott, David, 1, 7 SDS. See Service de Documentation et de Sécurité Second liberation movement, 8 Security Council, UN, 129, 130 Security space, 129

Index Selassie, Haile, 32 Service de Documentation et de Sécurité (SDS), 97, 116 Service de Sécurité et des Affaires Indigènes, 24 Sharia law, 22 Shewa, 21 Shire, Mohamed Abdillahi, 47 Shoa, 19, 37n15 Siad Barre regime, 49 Singapore, 165–166 Sirex, Paul, 28 Al-Sisi, Abdel Fattah, 154 Small Arms Survey, 129–130 Smidt, Wolbert, 16 Socialism, 177 Somali ethnic group, 6, 14n16, 25, 27, 32, 36; Assahyamara Afar relation to, 33. See also Issa ethnic group Somali National Movement, 127 Somali Youth League, 39n105 Somalia, 12, 34, 115, 147n100, 148n109, 193; DRTC relation to, 132; Ethiopia relation to, 31–32, 42, 44–45, 55; France relation to, 135; humanitarian crisis in, 129; ICU in, 124–125; piracy in, 127–128, 148n123; Siad Barre regime in, 49; USSR relation to, 33 Somaliland, 193 Soprim, 109, 111 Souleh, Ali Houmed, 159 Souleiman, Djama, 79, 120, 139, 141, 142 South Sudan, 128 Sovereignty, 131, 167, 170 Spain, 4 Stabilization, labor unions for, 29 Stirn, Olivier, 35, 102 Suakin, 18 Sudan, 33, 134, 193 Sudan, Hamoud Abdi, 158 Suez Canal, 19–20 Syarou, 103 Syria, 154 Tactics, political, 163–164, 174, 185n41, 192; litigation as, 165–167, 175–176; negotiation as, 167–169, 172–173 Tadjoura, 18, 19, 23, 101, 114, 116; Arab Spring in, 117; election in, 100 Takayama (oil tanker), 132 Le Temps (journal), 68, 158 TFG. See Transitional Federeal Government Third mandate, of Guelleh, 12–13, 112, 119. See also Constitution Thirteenth Demi-brigade, of France, 138 Tigrayan People’s Liberation Front (TPLF), 194

219

Tigre, treaties with, 19 Togo, 137 Toxic waste, 127, 148n123 TPLF. See Tigrayan People’s Liberation Front Transitional Federeal Government (TFG), 125 Treaties, 19, 21 Treaty of Friendship and Cooperation, 138– 139 Tribalism, 36, 43–44, 73 Trimingham, J. Spencer, 37n15 Tuareg rebels, 138 Turkey, 193 UAD. See Union pour l’Alternance Démocratique UAE. See United Arab Emirates UDJ. See Union pour la Démocratie et la Justice UDJ-PDD. See Union for Democracy and Justice-Djibouti Democracy Party UFO. See Union des Femmes de l’Opposition Uganda, 123 UGT. See Union Générale des Travailleurs Djiboutiens Ukraine, 128 Ulemas, 157 UMD. See Union des Mouvements Démocratiques UMP. See Union pour la Majorité Présidentielle UN. See United Nations UNI. See Union Nationale pour l’Indépendance Union (wahada), 177, 178, 180–181 Union des Femmes de l’Opposition (UFO), 171 Union des Mouvements Démocratiques (UMD), 49 Union for Democracy and Justice–Djibouti Democracy Party (UDJ-PDD), 176 Union Générale des Travailleurs Djiboutiens (UGT), 102 Union Nationale pour l’Indépendance (UNI), 35 Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (USSR), 33, 34 Union pour la Démocratie et la Justice (UDJ), 73, 86, 102, 159 Union pour la Majorité Présidentielle (UMP), 73–74, 76, 85, 98, 102, 176; negotiation with, 167–169, 170; in 2013 legislative election, 161; in 2012 local municipal election, 154–155, 159 Union pour l’Alternance Démocratique (UAD), 73, 74, 86–87, 101, 118–119 Union pour le Salut National (USN), 156, 158–159, 161–162, 172, 173; A. Boreh

220

Index

relation to, 164, 166; negotiation with, 167–169, 170; protests of, 167, 171 Union Sacrée pour le Changement (USC), 156 United Arab Emirates (UAE), 81, 142, 193 United Arab Shipping Company, 128 United Nations (UN), 31, 34, 126, 127, 129, 130 United States (US), 12, 94n148, 126, 134, 142, 178–179; Asmara base of, 33; China relation to, 193; economic aid from, 84, 127; election funded by, 75; Ethiopia relation to, 34, 125; Federal Bureau of Investigation of, 167; I. Guelleh relation to, 83, 84; military aid from, 189n148; military base of, 3, 4, 124; NAVCENT of, 150n152; Navy of, 82; Operation Enduring Freedom of, 82–83; in Red Sea, 183; in Somalia, 125 US Agency for International Development, 83 USC. See Union Sacrée pour le Changement USN. See Union pour le Salut National USSR. See Union of Soviet Socialist Republics

Vertical conceptualization, of the state, 10 Very Large Crude Carriers (VCC), 128 De Villepin, Dominique, 93n113, 140 Virilio, Paul, 136 Vivien, M. Alain, 50 Voice of America (VOA), 162 La Voix de Djibouti, 158, 159–160

Van de Walle, Nicolas, 64–65 VCC. See Very Large Crude Carriers Vérdine, Hubert, 63

Zaire, 54 Zayla, 16, 17, 18–19, 20, 23, 36n3 Zenawi, Meles, 67

Waberi, M. Farah Ali, 53 Wahada (union), 177, 178, 180–181 Wais, Abdoulkader Doualeh, 87, 105n7 Wais, Ali Meidal, 68 Wallie, Said, 104 War on Terror, 12 Warsema Ragueh, Mohamed, 120–121 Way, Lucan, 54 Wilder, Gary, 1 William, Paul D., 126 World War II, 25 Yemen, 13, 27, 121, 177–178, 179–180, 183 Youssef, Mohamed Adoyta, 49 Youssouf, Hamada Mahamad, 104

About the Book

WEDGED BETWEEN ERITREA, ETHIOPIA, AND SOMALIA, AT THE

intersection of the world’s busiest shipping routes, Djibouti has long been a global geostrategic hub. Samson Bezabeh traces the tortuous political history of this tiny country since its independence from France in 1977. Bezabeh challenges much conventional wisdom as he dissects Djibouti's trials and tribulations. Focusing on the internal, external, and historical factors that drive its domestic politics, his work exposes the troubling dynamics that have allowed the state to survive despite, or perhaps because of, the fragmentation of its society. Samson Abebe Bezabeh is assistant professor of African studies at

the University of Hong Kong.

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