Mauritania: The Struggle for Democracy 9781626371149

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MAURITANIA

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Studies on North Africa Robert A. Mortimer, Series Editor

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MAURITANIA The Struggle for Democracy Noel Foster

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Published in the United States of America in 2011 by FirstForumPress A division of Lynne Rienner Publishers, Inc. 1800 30th Street, Boulder, Colorado 80301 www.firstforumpress.com and in the United Kingdom by FirstForumPress A division of Lynne Rienner Publishers, Inc. 3 Henrietta Street, Covent Garden, London WC2E 8LU © 2011 by FirstForumPress. All rights reserved Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data A Cataloging-in-Publication record for this book is available from the Library of Congress. ISBN: 978-1-935049-30-2 British Cataloguing in Publication Data A Cataloguing in Publication record for this book is available from the British Library. This book was produced from digital files prepared by the author using the FirstForumComposer. 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

Contents

Acknowledgments

vii

1

Introduction

1

2

The Making of Modern Mauritania

9

3

The Army Breaks Ranks

49

4

A Coup for Democracy?

75

5

Mauritania’s Prague Spring

105

6

The Puppet Presidential Candidate

131

7

The Gathering Storm

153

8

All the General’s Men

183

9

Battling Military Rule

215

10 The Vanishing Mediators

249

11 Paths Forward

281

List of Acronyms and Terms Bibliography Index

299 303 307

v

Acknowledgments

Delving beneath the Byzantine intrigues to understand the forces behind politics in Mauritania is at once a challenging and unforgiving task. To document and explain Mauritania’s ongoing struggle to democratize with scholarly precision and rigor is particularly ambitious. On a subject where so much remains to be written, considerable onus lies with the writer. The attempt to grasp the realities behind such complex and under-documented processes can only cultivate humility among those who search for truth. Any errors in this work are entirely my own. First and foremost, I would not have been able to write this book were it not for the gracious hospitality and assistance of the late Ambassador Abdullah Ould Daddah and Turkia Daddah, to whom I cannot express my gratitude in sufficient terms. Their country is fortunate to have had such dedicated public servants. I am also exceedingly grateful for the advice of Dr. Amel Daddah. Sidi Mohammed Ould Cheiguer offered priceless insight, while Habib Ould Hemet was also of invaluable aid. Béchir Ould El Hassen was instrumental in assisting my research for this work while I was still a student at Stanford University. Thanks to a generous fellowship from Stanford’s Haas Center for Public Service at the Citizens’ Initiative for Change (ICC), a Mauritania NGO pushing for political reform, I had the chance to work alongside brave men and women working for their country’s future, and also to take measure of the complexities of the situation by comparing my academic writing with the realities on the ground, often unfavorably. I, along with my work, am the better for this priceless opportunity. Finally, I would like to thank several sources who for various reasons could not be cited by name. My work would have been impossible without their contributions. To paraphrase a professor of mine at Stanford, Coit D. Blacker, I acknowledge that I am the construction of others. Many have had a hand in making this book possible, and there is not sufficient space to name everyone. I have had the extraordinary opportunity to count upon many teachers, advisors and mentors at all stages of my life, both within educational institutions and without. Professor Russell Berman of Stanford’s Department of Comparative Literature brought me to think

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viii Mauritania: The Struggle for Democracy

critically about culture and politics. Professor Abbas Milani was instrumental in forging my interest in democratization in the Muslim and developing worlds. He revealed in the question of democracy in Iran not only the competing aspirations of Iranians over the course of a century, but also an issue of tremendous import to world security, all with virtuoso skill, principled passion, and encyclopedic erudition. In particular, I would like to thank Professor Larry J. Diamond for his indefatigable counsel, wisdom, and patience over a challenging, admittedly protracted, but immensely transformative and rewarding process. Finally, as an only son of a mother who made immense sacrifices on my behalf at the expense of her own promising career, I dedicate this work, as but a minor token of my gratitude, to her.

1 Introduction

On a blistering day in August 2005, a faction of high-ranking officers within Mauritania’s security establishment overthrew their master and president of twenty years, Maaouya Ould Sid’Ahmed Taya, and took power in the name of the Military Committee for Justice and Democracy (CMJD). Within days they had engaged the country’s major opposition leaders and embarked on an ambitious transition to democracy, promising elections within twenty-four months. This commitment in itself was rather banal; a promised transition to democracy has long been a staple of coups. What would stun observers, however, was that the junta delivered elections within nineteen months, with no junta members running for office, and subsequently relinquished power to elected civilians. The despot’s henchmen of two decades appeared to have set Mauritania on the path to become the Arab world’s first democracy, an advance seized as proof of democracy’s viability in Arab and Islamic nations. But in August 2008, almost three years to the day later and after only sixteen months of civilian rule, the mirage of democracy vanished when the military toppled the administration of Sidi Ould Cheikh Abdallahi and installed a junta consisting largely of the very same men who had relinquished power in 2005. The junta leader, General Mohamed Ould Abdel Aziz, later confessed to journalists that he had engineered the overthrown president’s election campaign from the start, as Mauritanians had long suspected. Had Mauritania’s celebrated 20052007 democratic transition, capped by presidential elections hailed by the international community as free and fair, been but an elaborate masquerade? These events raise questions with regard to the potential transition to democracy, particularly in autocratic Arab and Islamic nations. Why would senior officers in an autocracy break ranks and risk their lives to overthrow their patron? What would drive them, once they had taken such risks, to surrender their power to an untested elected civilian (who

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Mauritania: The Struggle for Democracy

would later turn on them)? Why would they topple a president whose election they had orchestrated? Are coups purporting to overthrow dictators so as to enshrine democracy a viable path to democratic development? The trials and travails behind Mauritania’s aborted democratic transitions offer a unique opportunity to examine an attempt at democratization and also transitions from pseudo-democracies – authoritarian regimes using the trappings of democracy for legitimacy – to democratic governance. Mauritania represents both a source of hope and a harbinger of disconcerting trends. Its most recent putsch was but the first of a wave of coups and coup attempts that shook the African continent in 2008 and 2009 in what came to be known as a democratic recession. Unfortunately for Mauritanians, their country provides a textbook case of neopatrimonialism, the rule of autocratic elites that seize control of the state and its resources and maintain power through patronage. Exploring how neopatrimonial elites adapt to changing norms and the balance of power within an evolving international system, especially with regard to rising powers, tells us much about a global system where the unipolar order is questioned but democracy remains the dominant paradigm. At the same time, the obstacles Mauritania faces, ranging from the vestiges of slavery and ethnic tensions to underdevelopment, and from the legacy of fifty years of autocracy to the threat of terrorism, would render the country’s eventual reform proof of democracy’s feasibility elsewhere in the Arab world. The question of democracy’s viability in Mauritania is no longer academic, however. The discovery of oil and prospects of further mineral resources have elevated interest in the country, particularly given its geostrategic location as a bridge between the Maghreb and subSaharan Africa and the Sahara’s gateway to the Atlantic. Further, porous borders and the weakness of the nation’s government have drawn terrorists as well as organized crime. Abetted in no small part by a failing state under military control, a series of brutal attacks on government forces and Westerners by Al Qaida in the Islamic Maghreb has placed the country on terrorism’s frontlines and strengthened the hand of military autocrats. In a perfect storm, terrorism, organized crime, and state failure mask an impending societal crisis stemming from centuries of injustices. Two out of five Mauritanians are the descendants of slaves,1 facing discrimination in a society where the vestiges of slavery impede reconciliation and where many contend slavery still persists. Mauritania’s black African population suffered grievously from government-sponsored ethnic violence twenty years ago and an

Introduction

3

unfinished reconciliation since. And an exclusionary, predatory elite continues to preside over an overwhelmingly destitute population, the vast majority of whom survive on less than two dollars a day. The combined weight of these festering wounds threatens this society’s viability. The outcome of the ongoing political crisis will determine whether the looming catastrophe can be averted. At issue is more than the fate of a nation. The outcome of a silent war between neopatrimonialists and those struggling for democracy will determine whether these iniquities can be rectified. If dissent does not lead to reform, the groundswell of discord could easily be manipulated by radical ideologies and directed at the neopatrimonialists as well as at an ostentatiously prosperous West blamed for supporting them. In the era of the globalization of terror as well as commerce, the fate of democracy in autocratic, underdeveloped states now affects our own. Courageous Mauritanians intent on making theirs the first democratic nation in the Arab world are leading the struggle for reform. The country’s ruling elites err dangerously in their illusion that with cosmetic changes the status quo can persist, when major advances have already shaken society from within. After the 2003 coup attempt that exposed the absence of support for the Taya regime among its apparatchiks and the 2005-2007 democratic transition that saw Mauritania’s first free and fair presidential and national assembly elections, the August 2008 coup inadvertently brought new democratic gains. Mauritanians contested the coup and their military rulers in the streets for the first time in history, while a bold and innovative press openly critical of the military regime expressed its views and easily skirted censorship. Even regime loyalists demanded concessions from the military junta, selling their support dearly in a non-binding political contract. In such a dramatic manner, Mauritania’s political opposition drew attention to this formerly obscure country. Beyond its domestic consequences and geostrategic import, the country’s political upheaval is of interest because of the developments that saw the nation catapulted to the fore as an exemplar of democracy for other Arab, African, and Islamic states. In piercing the mirage of the widely acclaimed 2005-2007 democratization process, the illusions that plague democratization elsewhere become apparent. And in consequence, the country yields unique, counterintuitive lessons that challenge conventional wisdom and deeply held assumptions in democratization theory. Regime change against autocrats, military or civilian, elected or self-designated, can come from a despotic system’s henchmen. These praetorian guards can topple the very regimes that empower and enrich them with the most conservative and self-interested

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Mauritania: The Struggle for Democracy

of motivations. A nation’s political opposition and civil society can undermine its democracy and lend credibility to autocracy, while a tattered dissident coalition, including many corrupt and compromised politicians fighting for their personal interests, can serve as democracy’s most ardent defenders. In times of adversity a nation’s weakness can be its strength, as an impoverished Mauritania dependent upon foreign aid followed the edicts of donors demanding democratic reform. Development aid, however, can strengthen autocracy by enriching its elites. Procedurally impeccable elections can conceal the subversion of democracy by these autocratic elites, rather than its consecration. Disturbingly, policy towards countries such as Mauritania is frequently built on a bedrock of mutually consented illusions. The nation’s case presents a call for reflection on how outsiders, particularly Westerners, construct their understanding of political realities on the ground, both in Mauritania and other underdeveloped autocracies, and hence how they formulate policy towards these countries. Democracy’s causal factors are not idle academic questions in the midst of what some democratization scholars argue is a global democratic recession, one followed and likely aggravated by an economic crisis unparalleled in recent decades. As the coming chapters will illustrate, this recession is questionable, as it can be argued that to label the global counter-reformation against democratic reform a democratic recession is to lament the loss of illusory gains. By far the most pernicious influence in the worldwide push for democratization is the reductionist and proceduralist vision of what constitutes democracy. In many countries, the mere periodic designation of the incumbent by ballot ensures these regimes’ classification as partially free. The existence of a anti-democratic counter-reformation on several continents is indisputable. Eight years of the Bush administration’s efforts at democracy promotion lent support for democratization unfortunate connotations. Global democratic development has stalled. The unction of popular support afforded “color revolutions” cannot conceal that the democratic regimes toppling autocracies are equally capable of incompetence and malfeasance. Ukraine’s political crisis following the Orange revolution and Madagascar’s emergent trend since 2002 of civilian coups legitimated by popular support demonstrate how leaders of grassroots reform movements can just as readily abuse or squander their power. Moreover, the world’s most autocratic holdouts are precisely those whose power rests in the will to employ violence on whatever scale self-preservation dictates, and are hence impervious to “color revolutions.”

Introduction

5

The present circumstances, whether an anti-democratic counterreformation or a democratic recession, bring to mind the catastrophic democratic recessions in the second quarter of the twentieth century and lend urgency and relevance to the understanding of the factors behind democracy. Mauritania’s democratization is of interest because it defies conventional theoretical explanations, lacking economic development, high levels of education or a burgeoning middle class. In the forthcoming review of democratization theory, it should be apparent that the materialist approach centered on economic growth, with some concession to vaguely termed “democratic values,” is insufficient as democratic development’s sole causal factors. The prevailing materialist focus on socioeconomic factors does not suffice to create a satisfying explanatory model for democratic development. Relevant concepts must also combine this focus with idealist approaches that elucidate the worldviews motivating practices and shaping realities. Lastly, in addition to descriptive accuracy, explanatory models should also yield prescriptive uses of help to those on the ground. A work so reliant on cultural and historical factors best begins with an examination of their interaction. Since cultural considerations are of such importance in explaining a country’s politics, they are included in the preliminary chapters. One cannot fathom the reasoning behind conduct in the public as well as the private sphere without recognition of how ingrained individualism, a sense of impermanence, recognition of contingency and an aversion to attachment are within Moor life, stemming from the environment that produced Moor culture. As Chapter 2 details, Mauritania’s rich ethnic makeup shapes its politics, just as its history is inseparable from its present in a society where oral history is perpetuated as part of the socialization of the young. Though the term Moor might appear quaint, more fitting in Othello than in the present time, it is the term used by Mauritanians with Arab and Berber heritage to describe themselves and their culture, as well as the identifier used by all other Mauritanians. Similarly, as many Mauritanians consciously identify with “tribes” and employ the term to describe patrilineal lineage groups, that term will also be used. Fixed surnames have gained ground in Mauritania. However, the terms “Ould” and “Mint,” signifying respectively “son of” and “daughter of”, remain in Moor custom and shall be used, with the rare exception of those names so frequently mentioned that the full patronymic is not commonly used in Mauritanian parlance, such as “Taya” for Maaouya Ould Sid’Ahmed Taya and “Abdel Aziz” for Mohamed Ould Abdel Aziz. Central to the country’s narrative and its present condition is the rise of a neopatrimonial elite allied with the military in the wake of military

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Mauritania: The Struggle for Democracy

coups, also chronicled in Chapter 2. Fifty years after independence, the country remains trapped within the clutches of a ruling class that has commandeered state resources and seeks to preserve this fundamentally untenable socio-economic structure through patronage. This elite mixes venerable tribal loyalties with manipulation of the modern tools of the state and state capitalism, so as to indulge in conspicuous consumption and accumulation unthinkable in traditional society. Their neopatrimonialist ideology has permeated the country and shaped a generation of its youth. This system of appropriating the proceeds of the nation’s natural resources as well as development aid, all under the control of a patronage system Mauritanian anthropologist Abdel Wedoud Ould Cheikh dubbed the “Sultanic system,”2 proved unsustainable. Chapter 2 elucidates how the senior leadership within the military and security establishment realized by late summer 2005 that they had to overthrow the very regime that dispensed them their privileges so as to retain them. Having overthrown their master, however, the colonels came under considerable pressure to liberalize and turn over power to an elected civilian government. Chapter 3 portrays their decision-making. Dependent on the West, the military high command had seemingly little choice but to extend unprecedented freedoms and initiate reforms shown in Chapter 4, before holding municipal, legislative and finally presidential elections. Though the EU and the US differed in their democracy promotion efforts elsewhere, in Mauritania Washington chose to follow Brussels rather than pursuing its own course. Procedurally flawless elections did not signify military neutrality. Vying factions within the military had no intent to surrender power so riskily seized from a tyrant to the very opponents of the regime they had once protected. The military’s involvement changed the course of history. And as Chapter 5 reveals, the international community helped organize and then endorsed a mirage. Elections and a democratic transition offered little tangible change, however, in the lives of the bulk of Mauritanians living in absolute poverty. Nor did it eradicate the profoundly anchored culture of corruption that had flourished since the advent of the neopatrimonialists, as portrayed in Chapter 6. Prior to his election President Sidi Ould Cheikh Abdallahi was a little-known exile. Chapter 7 uncovers why this weak man, a septuagenarian soft-spoken Brahmin reviled for his administration’s corruption and ineptitude, took on the soldiers who had made him president.

Introduction

7

Faced with a rebellious president who dismissed them, the senior ranking officers toppled the hapless Abdallahi in a coup. Initially, they found many backers, described in Chapter 8 – All the General’s Men, among them the best and the brightest of an elite that had compromised itself with military rulers for the past three decades. But the generals had not counted upon popular resistance. After all, this was unprecedented in a country where civilians backed the victorious military side as soon as its victory was evident. As the account in Chapter 9 relates, a most unlikely coalition arose to defy the military and take to the streets, influenced ironically by the very climate of freedom the military had cultivated only two years before. In Chapter 10, a bankrupt military facing international condemnation and domestic pressure finds itself trapped with no recourse but to earn legitimacy among the populace, a notion once foreign to Mauritania. In populist reform measures that redistributed government proceeds to the poor for the first time in memory, junta leader General Mohamed Ould Abdel Aziz begins his campaign for president in earnest by visiting slums and tent cities while distributing government largesse to the masses. Abroad, the regime maintained relations with Western countries with vested interests, notably Spain. Yet it also cultivated ties with China, Iran, and Libya, while expelling Israeli diplomats. Its measures would fail to placate opposition to the junta, however, either among principled dissidents or opportunists loyal to the old regime. The continuing stalemate brought an aborted attempt at mediation on the part of Muammar Qadhafi, as president of the African Union, and a more serious effort to bring the opposition to agree to elections by President Wade of Senegal, before the government was finally compelled to hold new presidential elections under a transitional unity government. Chapter 10 then covers those elections in July 2009, subsequent attempts at reconciliation in the wake of General Abdel Aziz’s election as president and opposition claims of fraud, and analyses the significance of the results. In the concluding chapter, the work’s analysis is reconsidered and tangible prescriptions for those engaged on all sides of Mauritania’s struggle to reform are discussed. Its prescriptions challenge received wisdom on development aid, diplomatic relations with military regimes and predatory elites, and the path towards democratization in developing Muslim nations, whose future, linked to ours, depends upon it.

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Mauritania: The Struggle for Democracy

1 CIA World Factbook, Mauritania, https://www.cia.gov/library/ publications/the-world-factbook/geos/mr.html#People, retrieved January20, 2008. 2 Best outlined in Ould Cheikh, Abdel Wedoud, Les habits neufs du sultan: sur le pouvoir et ses (res)sources en Mauritanie, Maghreb-Machrek N°189, Autumn 2006, pp. 29-52.

2 The Making of Modern Mauritania

Heir to West African, Berber and Arab civilizations, Mauritania has long comprised a unique crossroads where the disparate cultures of black Africa and the Arab world converge. Situated along the Atlantic Ocean with Morocco and the Western Sahara to the north, Algeria to the northeast, Senegal to the south, and Mali to the east, Mauritania is the western-most outpost of both Islam and the Arab world. Relations among its inhabitants have been shaped by its unforgiving yet striking geography, a heartland of desolate rocky hills in the north known as the Adrar plateau, the Senegal River Valley marking its southern border, and to the east an endless sea of red and white dunes of the Sahara Desert. Confronted by scarcity and adversity, Mauritanians have been engaged in constant struggle against the elements, and at times against one another. Moors and Afro-Mauritanians; the white Moor, or Bidan, and the black Moor, or Haratine; the Bidan of the warrior Beni Hassan caste and the Bidan of the religious scholar Zawiya caste, have at times clashed violently. This dynamic of opposition between different ethnicities and self-identified tribes, combined with the imperative of consensus and cooperation born out of adversity, continues to fashion Mauritania’s psyche. Named after Mauretania, a Berber Kingdom annexed by the Roman Empire in 44 AD and located along the Western Mediterranean littoral in modern-day Morocco and Algeria, Mauritania’s etymology is itself telling with regard to its image in the eye of the West. The Berbers were among Mauritania’s many inhabitants, but the land itself has been inhabited since Neolithic times,1 and during various points in history has been an ocean floor, a lush savanna, and the desert its current inhabitants recognize well.2 Cave paintings in the Adrar region attest to the life and ways of its first dwellers, as well as to the lushness of their surroundings. The first known inhabitants were the Bafourss, a sedentary people in what was then a verdant savanna teeming with wildlife. Gradual desertification, combined with the influx of Berber

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Mauritania: The Struggle for Democracy

tribes from the north beginning in the third century pressed the Bafours towards the Senegal River valley, where their descendents, the Soninke, remain. Ethnic Diversity

The Wolof, the Soninke, the Bambara, along with the Halpulaar, that is to say the Pulaar-speaking Peul and Toucouleur peoples, today constitute the main Senegal River Valley tribes and some 30% of Mauritania’s population.3 The Soninke can claim to have been the earliest occupants of present-day Mauritania and the heirs to the Ghana Empire. Though sedentary farmers the Soninke often engage in animal husbandry as well as trading throughout the sub-region with other ethnicities, which commonly refer to the Soninke people and language as Sarakole. Related to the Soninke are the Bambara. The descendants of the kingdom of Mali, most reside in modern-day Mali. There their language, Mandekan, serves as a lingua franca, as it is intelligible to speakers of several other languages. The origins of the Peul, also known as the Fulbe in anglophone West Africa, are more mysterious. Though some scholars have speculated that the Peul migrated westward from Egypt or Ethiopia, most contend that they migrated eastward from the Senegal area. Among the earliest converts to Islam, Muslim Peul rebelled against their nonMuslim Peul rulers and, in a series of jihads from the end of the 17th century to the advent of colonialism in the 19th century, established several kingdoms throughout West Africa. Among these was the Futa Tooro kingdom in the middle of the Senegal River Valley, noteworthy not only as one of the kingdoms within Mauritania’s boundaries but for its system of government. The Kingdom’s leaders, or Almaamy, were elected based upon their educational credentials by regional chiefs from the members of two distinguished lineages. An electoral council with permanent and temporary members assisted the Almaamy. The Peul speak an eponymous language that boasts a long oral tradition. Most are nomadic pastoralists, whose livelihood centers on their livestock and is similar to that of the Moors. The Toucouleur, part of the Halpulaar, are related to the Peul but differ in their dialect and way of life. The Toucouleur speak Fulfulde, a dialect of Peul that borrows heavily from the languages of their neighbors. Unlike the pastoral Peul they have long been sedentary farmers. Relatively few in number within Mauritania, the Wolof are dominant in neighboring Senegal, where they constitute by far the largest ethnic group.4 Following the break-up of the Ghana Empire, the

The Making of Modern Mauritania

11

Wolofs’ forbearers migrated westward towards the Atlantic. Many Wolof are members of the Tijaniya and the Quadiriya Sufi Islamic brotherhoods. The Moors

At once Arab, Berber and African, of all hues and complexions, sharing a way of life and the Hassaniya language, those peoples that call themselves Moors account for approximately 70% of the country’s population and have contributed much to shaping its history and its present. With the advent of Islam first came through the influence of merchants, but soon hastened with the rise of the Almoravid dynasty in the eleventh century. The Almoravids soon came to build an empire that stretched from Andalusia through modern-day Morocco and Mauritania to Senegal and Mali, attacking the Ghana Empire in what is now southeastern Mauritania. By 1076 under the leadership of Abu-Bakr IbnUmar they had taken the imperial capital and converted many of its subjects to Islam. Though Almoravid rule soon faded, by roughly 1218 new occupiers made their presence known. The Arab Maqil tribes of Yemeni origin, chief among them the Beni Hassan tribe of devout nomadic warriors, asserted their dominance and warred with Berber tribes, whose resistance to the spread of Islam was grounded more in opposition to Maqil hegemony than to Islam itself.5 Berber resistance would persist for over four centuries, culminating with the ultimate attempt to drive out the Arabs in the Char Bouba or Mauritanian Thirty Years’ war, beginning in 1644.6 In Mauritania the legacy of the Mauritanian Thirty Years’ war proved as profound and as lasting as that of Europe’s Thirty Years’ war in the Old Continent. With Berber resistance finally crushed by 1674, the Peace of Tin Yedfad consolidated the Beni Hassan as the ruling aristocracy in a highly stratified society. Hassaniya, Arabic of Yemeni origin laced with Berber and derived from the Beni Hassan, prevailed as the common language of the Moors. At the summit of society, the warrior Beni Hassan tribes presided over a web of patron-client relationships. Immediately below them, the Berber Zawiya tribes renounced bearing arms and formed a noble caste fulfilling religious functions.7 They were soon so associated with religious teaching that the term Zawiya became synonymous with marabout or holy man, and within West Africa at large they ran Koranic schools or Mahadra, known elsewhere as madrassas. In an entirely Sunni and mostly Malekite Muslim society without a clergy, the maraboutic class held considerable esteem and influence in every field

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Mauritania: The Struggle for Democracy

of life, serving as religious leaders, healers, scholars, educators, personal advisors, and jurists. Thus the relationship between the Zawiya and the Beni Hassan was unequal but symbiotic. Despite their dominance the Beni Hassan depended upon their legitimation by the Zawiya in exchange for the warrior tribes’ protection. The Beni Hassan–Zawiya schism remains in the Mauritanian mindset and continues to play a socio-political role. Character stereotypes persist to this day, from that of the haughty, impetuous and audacious Beni Hassan to the modest, self-effacing, unflappably polite but firm Zawiya. Avatars of such roles occasionally present themselves in Mauritanian politics, ensuring they endure.8 Beneath the Beni Hassan and the Zawiya lay the lower caste Znage tribes. The Znage were compelled to pay horma, or an individual tax, as well as gharama, a tribal tribute, to their overlords. They were also subject to performing labor considered degrading by the higher castes, caring for the cattle and families of the Beni Hassan for instance. Among the Znage were the Imraguen, derived from the Berber word for fishermen, who live mostly on the northern expanses of the Mauritanian coast on the Banc d’Arguin, and bards known as griots, who continue to perform to much acclaim even beyond the Maghreb, preserving its oral history. Well-to-do Bidan sought to surround themselves with griots, whose songs celebrated their lineage and accomplishments. In high demand, griots could impose demands of their own. Turning their musical and oratorical skills upon those who dared refuse them, the griots, as with the Zawiya, did not always fit docilely in the hierarchical social structures. Griots remain a fixture in Mauritanian political life in the present, part of the narrative rulers weave to consolidate their legitimacy.9 Women in Mauritanian Society

Bidan women enjoy far more rights than their counterparts in most Arab countries. Some of Mauritania’s most prosperous merchants are women, and many women work outside their households, in some cases as their families’ sole wage earners. Power relationships within the family have been shaped by the husband’s desire to impress his wife’s family and prove his worth, granting the woman latitude uncommon elsewhere within the Arab world. Women’s status owes much to Berber traditions of matriarchy. Women carry their maiden name their entire lives and retain their dowry. For a Bidan woman to demand a divorce is a disgrace – usually to her husband and his family.

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Among Bidan of a certain stratum, the more husbands a woman had married, the greater desirability she garnered. From divorce to divorce, certain women acquired considerable wealth in divorce settlements. Monogamy was the de facto norm, outside families of religious leaders, since it was extremely rare for women to accept their husband’s request to take a second wife.10 Divorce rates of 37% – and remarriage rates of 72.5% – were reported among Bidan.11 The divorce rate among Bidan women ranges between two to three times that of Afro-Mauritanian women, with remarriage common and divorcees retaining custody of their children, despite provisions in Shariah law rendering divorce, custody and inheritance more favorable towards men. In stark contrast, women in the country’s three black African tribes were historically subservient to men in a patriarchal culture, where polygamy was more prevalent. In both cultures, excision was also a norm, affecting up to 70% of women by some estimates.12 A significant exception to the generally advanced status of women in Bidan society has been the practice of gavage, or forced feeding, long inflicted upon pre-teen girls to create the corpulence that has been the prevailing ideal of beauty, though gavage is now dying out13 in the wake of public health campaigns and changing mores. A Unique Islamic Republic

The universal practice of Islam is the single unifying factor bringing together all Mauritanians. As one scholar argues, “of the half-dozen or so countries around the world which call themselves “Islamic”,” only Mauritania “could correctly be said to have adopted that label in a wholly authentic sense.” “Mauritania chooses to employ the Islamic idiom as a simple means of attempting to cement the allegiance of a communally segmented society,”14 rather than in the Islamist sense. Virtually all Mauritanians are Sunni Muslims of the Malekite school. Since the 13th century the practice of Islam has been shaped by the Sufi traditions of Muslim brotherhoods, led by sheiks. The charisma and spirituality of Sufi sheiks, who served as intercessors between the human and the divine, played a significant role in Sufism’s spread. This was complemented by mysticism and the incorporation of practices such as the belief in devils and spirits, or djinn, which readily crossed religious divides and allowed for syncretistic practices that facilitated conversions, especially among animists.15 In contrast to the sobriety of orthodoxy, Sufism stresses the individual’s experience of Allah, providing for the mystical side of human spirituality unfulfilled by orthodox practices. Muslim brother-

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Mauritania: The Struggle for Democracy

hoods reconciled orthodoxy and Sufism, but also acted as a unifying agent between rival ethnic groups and clans. As with the societies they influence, the brotherhoods are hierarchically organized, with chiefs initiating members, who then undergo spiritual instruction. Currently almost all Mauritanian members belong to the Qadiriya or the Tijaniya brotherhoods.16 Arising as a counter-reaction to orthodoxy, Sufism in its influence on Mauritanian Islam has traditionally made Mauritania an unlikely ground for religious fundamentalism. Social Dynamics

Through the control of major Trans-Saharan pilgrimage and trading routes linking West Africa with the Maghreb through camel caravans, some tribal leaders came to assert themselves as emirs within particular regions. Their emirates, however, were frequently weak and short-lived, as conditions were not suited towards the establishment of strong state power, or dynasticism. With few large population centers, a large tax base eluded any emir. Military power usually depended upon ephemeral tribal alliances. Loyalty did not necessarily flow along hereditary lines in Moor society, and the weaker descendents of emirs quickly found themselves abandoned. Legitimacy instead depended upon wealth and the support of religious authority, the preserve of the Zawiya. Tribal dynamics checked power rather than reinforcing it, as they centered on alliance building and consent over the choice of leadership. A constant in Mauritanian politics, this consensus-based approach led to those candidates perceived as most pliant and dependent upon the tribal notability being favored, to the detriment of centralized power. Indeed, the nomadic lifestyle conferred on families the ability to vote with one’s feet, and the entirety of one’s livelihood, against any tyrannical central authority. This way of life contributed to two interrelated phenomena that would characterize Moor political culture: the lack of historically centralized power in Mauritania’s heartland, and Mauritanians’ mentality towards power and authority. Bidan political culture permeates Mauritanian society as a whole through the Bidan’s political dominance, with considerable implications for nation-building and governance. Race, Slavery and the Haratines

The most salient iniquity haunting Mauritania, namely the legacy of slavery, visible to this day in the condition of Haratines, also derives from the old tribal order. Slaves themselves were usually the plunder of

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raids, or razzia, the product of a stateless society and a harsh environment’s scarcities that encouraged internecine warfare and plundering as a way of life. From the beginning of Bidan dominance an Arabized black Moor or Haratine underclass of slaves existed. In a patrilineal tradition, where in the words of the Moors “nobility derives from the father,” racial lines were often blurred. Frequently the terms white and black Moor came to correspond less to complexion than to lineage and family circumstances. Yet, while some Haratines came into property and considerable influence, in some cases owning slaves themselves, most remained enslaved until recent times. French edicts banning slavery during the colonial era were followed by successive de jure abolitions in 1905, 1960, 1980-1981, and the recent 2007 anti-slavery law signed under a Haratine Speaker of the National Assembly, Messaoud Ould Boulkheir. Yet in a nomadic population spread over vast ungoverned expanses, there has always been considerable difficulty applying any law, regardless of the will to enforce such edicts. In contrast to the largescale, plantation form of slavery familiar in the Americas, slavery in Mauritania existed at the family level and could easily persist in the inviolable privacy of the home. So long as a single nomadic family continues to roam the desert it will be impossible to state with certainty that slavery no longer exists in Mauritania. The persistence of slavery remains a highly contentious and politically charged issue, and each successive government has staunchly denied the charges, insisting that only the “vestiges” of slavery remained while issuing abolitionist decrees and internal orders against it. The interjection of diaspora politics, domestic politics and personal ambitions into the debate over the presence of slavery has distorted the record17 and further complicated the question. The persistence of slavery was frequently attributed to the manipulation of religion, combined with the withholding of any form of education.18 As Boubacar Messoud, the founder of the NGO SOS Esclaves, has argued, slavery persisted not because of chains or a slave state, but because its sanctity had been ingrained into slaves’ mentalities. Slavery’s hegemony was at once the product of loyalty towards a paternalistic figure, with all the dependency that entailed, and the manipulation of religion to serve such ends. Their place in “paradise,” they were told, “depended upon their submission to their master,”19 a manipulation of a “fundamentally obscurantist” form of Sunni Islam. A powerful and enduring mentality, described as a psychology of slavery, ensured the Haratine remained a slave in his own mind, long after his shackles had been shorn, and submitted to Bidan dominance.20

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Those who did flee found themselves destitute and defenseless in one of the poorest countries on earth; some returned to their masters.21 Without birth certificates and identification papers, they were deprived of a legal existence and could not escape their societal status as slaves. By some accounts even Haratine who had long been separated from their former masters and who had risen by dint of effort and study retained an umbilical relationship with their former lords, who occasionally visited them to receive offerings and reaffirmations of fealty.22 Enduring family ties between former masters and slaves persist in the form of arrangements where Haratines live within the families of former masters, performing labor while being lodged and fed. Former masters ardently insist that the Haratines living with them are a cherished part of the family and choose to remain voluntarily. Many Haratines have an entirely different viewpoint, citing inhumane treatment. Ultimately, economic bonds were far more compelling a factor in maintaining many Haratines’ ties to their former masters. The inescapable realities of what constituted a livelihood in a nomadic society – livestock, tents, wells, and tribal cooperation – had always remained in the hands of masters. In a formal sense, slaves had always been free to flee, only to face the consequences of escaping the prison without walls that was for them the Sahara. The most decisive element in the liberation of slaves had not been any government decree or policy but the devastating droughts of the 1970s that brought an end to the nomadic way of life for all but a handful of Mauritanians. Their livelihoods decimated, many masters had freed themselves of their slaves, rather than liberating their subjects in any real sense. They had retained what chattel survived the droughts, together with their tents and few personal belongings, and abandoned the Haratines. Given economic realities in Mauritania, this dilemma is not likely to disappear soon. A living embodiment of the contradictions within their country, Haratines find themselves torn between two identities but fully within neither. As black or mixed-race Arabic speakers shaped by the Arab-Berber culture of their former masters, the Haratine fit neither within the Bidan community nor the Afro-Mauritanian community. At roughly 40% of the population,23 they constitute the country’s single largest ethnic group. In cities such as Nouakchott, the Haratine have become an urban underclass, seething at injustices and primed to eventually express their resentment violently if such injustices are not redressed.

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Colonial Rule

French colonization in Mauritania was distinctly similar to indirect rule of many British colonies, in contrast to French rule in the Senegal River Valley and elsewhere in West Africa. While France had established a colony at Saint-Louis on the Senegal River in 1659 and the 1814 Treaty of Paris had given France a claim to the region, colonization of the “great void” of Mauritania only began at the very end of the nineteenth century. The lack of resources made for little incentive to assert control over nomadic tribes scattered over a territory twice the size of metropolitan France. The remote garrisons that maintained French power did little to further France’s “mission civilisatrice” and French influence over the common Moor, as the ineffectual de jure abolition of slavery proved. The imprint of colonial rule was thus far less pronounced than in West African colonies, and certainly not as indelible or traumatic as in French Algeria. In comparison, Mauritania’s colonization was thus relatively superficial and brief. France left its mark in a far different and enduring way, however. French power was decisive in banning horma and forcibly ending the intertribal warfare that had characterized the previous centuries of Mauritanian history. With this change came the downfall of Beni Hassan dominance, dramatically changing the societal balance of power in favor of the Zawiya tribes who, having been marginalized by the warrior tribes, were often happy to accommodate the French.24 Its control of the adjoining regions secure, France finally decided to appropriate the lands north of the Senegal River in December 1899, placing administrator Xavier Coppolani in charge of the expedition. A fluent Arabist, Coppolani knew the Moors far better than any other French colonial officer and combined an apparently genuine idealism in ending slavery and bringing French civilization with the pragmatism and tact necessary in negotiating with the Moors.25 From its inception French rule faced considerable resistance in Mauritania, active at first through armed struggle and later passive through social and cultural struggle, influencing Mauritanian identity. Its military superiority irrelevant and insufficient in this battle, Paris responded through a concerted cultural struggle aimed at shaping future local elites. Colonial administrators established schools, such as the unambiguously named Sons of Chiefs School in Saint-Louis, which aimed to inculcate the future Mauritanian leadership in their language and customs. This school directly succeeded that established by Louis Faidherbe for the children of local authorities the French suspected of anti-colonialist intentions, whose progeny were taken from their homes

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and educated in French ways.26 Many Bidan leaders were given the possibility of sending their children to French colonial schools but snubbed the offer, preferring the traditional Koranic schools that had perpetuated an Islamic tradition of scholarship for centuries. Closer to the colonial capital of Saint-Louis and hence French rule, Afro-Mauritanians received greater exposure to the language, culture and norms of the colonizer that their Moor brethren lacked or refused, which facilitated their role as interlocutors and cadres first for the colonial authority and then the new state. In competition with Hassaniya Arabic, French served as a lingua franca uniting the disparate Halpulaar, Soninke, and Wolof tribes, as well as a gateway to France and francophone West Africa. This linguistic chasm would only be widened by Arabization policies in later years. Those Moors who did attend colonial schools were frequently Haratine children sent by the Bidan in their own children’s stead. Most students, however, were from black African tribes on the northern banks of the Senegal River.27 In consequence, the colonial authorities employed Wolof and Toucouleur usually as lower level civil servants to the detriment of Moor elites, both Beni Hassan and Zawiya.28 From these Afro-Mauritanian communities sprung the majority of the new administrative class and the nucleus of the future state. Paths of Accommodation

Following the end of armed resistance, some Zawiya families subjected their sons to both traditional and French educations, schooling them first in local Koranic schools before sending them to French schools. Consequently, a bilingual, bicultural Zawiya elite developed, one that would rise within the French colonial administration while wielding influence within their own communities. Unable to create loyal elites supplanting those among the Bidan themselves, French colonial administrators depended upon co-opting local tribal leaders to serve as proxies. Many hailed from Zawiya tribes, and leaders of local Sufi brotherhoods intent on ending centuries of submission to the Beni Hassan tribes became the chief proponents of various forms of collaboration with the French.29 These chiefs worked to induce local tribes to form alliances with the French, drawing in particular upon their religious authority in conferring legitimacy to the new occupier. The two-pronged strategy of divide and rule, on the one hand, and of offering indirect rule on the other initially succeeded. By 1904 the emirates of Brakna, Tagant and the Trarza had capitulated, acceding to the status of French protectorates. Armed resistance continued, however,

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and Coppolani’s assassination by Sheikh Maa Al-Ainin in 1905 paralyzed French efforts. Though the last remaining stronghold of opposition to colonial rule, the emirate of the Adrar, was crushed in 1912, armed resistance to the French continued until 1934. Within less than a decade the Second World War ineradicably undermined the French Empire. In 1946 Paris gave Mauritania partial control over internal affairs through the Mauritanian Territorial Assembly. Power gradually devolved to local authorities over the course of the 1950s. One of the main chiefs who had sided with the French was Baba Ould Sheikh Sidiya, a marabout from the well-respected Zawiya Ouled Biri tribe. Ould Sheikh Sidiya had so far as to lend his considerable religious authority to French colonization by issuing a fatwa authorizing Xavier Coppolani’s expedition and urging Moor tribesmen to submit to French rule. Following this path of accommodation, his fellow Ouled Biri and extended family member, Moktar Ould Daddah, would ultimately become Mauritania’s first president. Born in 1924, Ould Daddah completed his Koranic studies and studied at the Sons of Chiefs’ School before becoming an interpreter for the colonial government. Later he became the first Mauritanian university graduate, studying law in Paris.30 As a Bidan, the scion of a respected Zawiya family, a southerner with ties to Afro-Mauritanians, and a product of French schooling, Ould Daddah best combined those traits required to cobble together Mauritania’s disparate tribes and ethnicities. Most importantly, he lacked a following or base,31 and therefore was considered sufficiently malleable by both the French and the traditional chieftains. The intratribal tradition of selecting the weakest candidate to lead again manifested itself. Returning to Mauritania, Ould Daddah took over the Mauritanian Progressive Union or UPM and led it in 1952, at the age of twenty-seven, to sweep twenty-two out of twenty-four seats on the Conseil Général, an advisory board to the colonial government. Following Prime Minister’s Guy Mollet’s loi cadre, which established a framework for African self-rule, the UPM took thirty-three out of thirtyfour seats in the Territorial Assembly, the embryonic parliament. With Ould Daddah elected a territorial assemblymen and the territorial vicepresident, his rise to becoming the country’s first president was preordained. Independence

On November 28, 1960 Mauritania received its independence from France. Assuming the presidency, Moktar Ould Daddah was one of only

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six Mauritanian university graduates, most of whom had schoolteacher’s degrees. There were virtually no professionals, few streets and government offices, and only two high schools.32 Two-thirds of the 12,000 residents of its new capital Nouakchott lived in tents.33 Chosen just prior to independence, the capital had been a small French garrison placed between the territories of tribes, symbolizing the desire to forge a post-tribal Mauritanian identity. Ould Daddah followed the prevailing trend in newly independent African states, forming a single-party state in the country’s first constitution in August 1960. Officially designated the single party in 1964, the Mauritanian People’s Party or PPM would dominate Mauritanian politics for the next fourteen years, providing Ould Daddah the implement with which to consolidate his hold on power. The passage of over forty years’ time has tinted perceptions of the first years of independence as a golden era. Nostalgia aside, the first few years following independence were ones of relative prosperity, great expectations and ephemeral unity. Newly discovered iron ore deposits and offshore fisheries buttressed Mauritania’s economy and, together with foreign aid, gave the state the means to pursue nation building. The country’s thin class of educated leaders in many cases comprised classmates sharing bonds that transcended ethnicity or tribe. In the words of one, “there was little competition, everyone knew one another and helped one another and we got along just fine.”34 Moreover, in the immediate post-independence era a euphoric nation-building drive imbued the younger generation of government cadres, whose education and aspirations brushed aside tribal considerations. In the recollection of many, this era was one of greater rights and freedoms than any that would follow until the democratic transition of 2005. There was initially little repression of anti-government criticism, and the accessibility of leaders combined with wide familial networks obviated the “friend or enemy” conception of politics that would later stigmatize dissent against the state. Ethnicity, Modernity and its Discontents

Caught between the wariness of traditional authorities and the criticism of nationalist young Turks, Ould Daddah was eventually seen as compromised by his modern image and his close relations with France, ranging from his political ties to his French education and spouse. In foreign affairs he sought to compensate and appease critics, taking care to distance himself from the erstwhile colonizer while retaining vital French aid. He walked a precarious line, requiring many genuflections.

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Alternately he would visit Guinea – then a one-party Marxist-inspired state under Sékou Touré known for its strong anti-French stance – and castigate French imperialism. Shortly thereafter he would meekly praise French technical assistance in his Independence Day address.35 Resentment towards the French-educated elites, most from the southern regions, together with the wave of Arab nationalist and anticolonial sentiment led Moktar Ould Daddah to pursue an Arabization policy beginning in January 1965. Consolidated by the PPM’s second party congress in 1966 as well as by the constitutional reform enshrining Hassaniya Arabic as the national language in 1968,36 this policy understandably alienated black Africans from the Senegal River Valley, who saw it as discriminatory. Black African students went on strike and took to the streets in February 1966, engaging in scuffles with their Moor classmates. Civil servants joined them, nineteen of whom signed a manifesto protesting Arabization campaigns. Surprised by the country’s first outbreak of civil disobedience, Ould Daddah responded by banning discussions of racial issues, temporarily closing schools and arresting the protests’ ringleaders. Mauritania’s First Grassroots Political Movement

The 1966 demonstrations saw a turning point in Mauritania’s political development. With the imposition of Arabization policies riots erupted over two days between Moor and Afro-Mauritanian professionals and students, particularly in Nouakchott. Francophone Afro-Mauritanians had the most to lose, since they dominated government positions and saw Arabization as an encroachment by Moors. In turn, the government imprisoned the ringleaders – together. Within two years, Marxism and Leftism dominated the political discourse.37 Imprisoned together, Moor and Afro-Mauritanian activists were able to bridge their differences and create the National Democratic Movement or MND, Mauritania’s first unified opposition. Guided by the Marxist Kadihines (the term for “toiler” or “proletarian” in Arabic), the MND campaigned on a platform to reduce Mauritania’s dependence on its former colonizer in the form of French control over the Mauritanian iron mines and Mauritanian membership in the CFA Franc economic zone, as well as combating long-standing social iniquities, including slavery. The campaign of demonstrations and strikes influenced by the MND culminated in the 1968 miners’ strike in Zouerate, where soldiers fired upon strikers, killing seven. In protesting the government’s actions, sometimes violently, young Kadihine members found themselves in ambiguous situations that highlighted the

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generational conflict behind the movement. Dr. Mohamed-Mahmoud El Hacen recalls leading the Mauritanian student activists in Dakar who attacked the Mauritanian embassy there. His father happened to be the ambassador.38 Many had come to the Marxist inspired Kadihines from Arab nationalism.39 Like many his age, Abdelkader Hamad experienced his political awakening at the age of thirteen, when he joined the Nasserist faction of the Arab nationalist movement. The June 1967 Six Day War sparked a commitment to the Palestinian cause. But a feeling of betrayal by all Arab leaders, from the Syrians to Egypt’s Gamal Abdel Nasser, brought him to question prevailing Arab nationalist ideologies from Baathism to Nasserism. By spring 1968 he was leading student strikes, which were brutally suppressed. The following year he quickly found himself expelled from high school and on the run. The future Kadihine leader walked 111 miles across the desert and arid scrubland between Rosso and Nouakchott to evade police.40 By late 1972 the Mauritanian Kadihine Party (PKM) was formed in a congress of youth movement members, though it delayed the public announcement of its creation until October 1973 so as to build up a resilient leadership structure throughout the country. For several months between 1972 and 1973 elements within the Kadihines even prepared for guerilla warfare. Yet by then it was already too late for the nascent party. 41 In 1973 Moktar Ould Daddah began a series of sweeping reforms that deprived the Kadihines’ of much of their platform. Ould Daddah placated what was essentially a nationalist youth movement that excoriated what it deemed French neo-colonialism by nationalizing colonial legacy companies, most notably the French-run iron ore company the Mauritanian Iron Mines, MIFERMA, which would become the nationally-owned National Mining and Industrial Company, or SNIM in November 1974. In another concession to the nationalist left, he abandoned the CFA Franc, a West African common currency pegged to the French Franc, and created a national currency, the ouguiya. He appeased Arab nationalists by increasing the role of Arabic in public schools. Most importantly, he mollified opposition in all quarters by opening his government to a new generation. The government took the Kadihine’s leaders as well as its ideas, recruiting those fired for Kadihine activity or strikes and encouraging students expelled for school strikes and activism to return to their studies. This form of amnesty was particularly effective, since it broke the Kadihine’s backbone of student activists. Young militants and their families had little choice but to accept the government’s offer of schooling, employment and a chance at

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upward social mobility, for the movement lacked the means to employ full-time activists. The Kadihines fell victim partly to their success, for their mobilizing grassroots support brought the government to respond and their ideas were so influential the Ould Daddah government had no choice but to co-opt them. The main source of the PKM’s downfall lay in its dependence upon young activists they could not materially support.42 Though short-lived, the Kadihine movement would have significant implications. By the late 1960s and early 1970s most political groups and the trade union movement were strongly influenced by Kadihine ideas, even though the Kadihines themselves were a small and disciplined vanguard party43 and many of its militants soon reconciled themselves to a traditional society’s status quo. Ironically, more than a few Kadihines became tribal chieftains,44 some combining a Marxist discourse and trade unionism with “pure feudalism.”45 Rather than an ideological, Marxist-driven effort, Kadihine veterans in retrospect saw it as “the continuity of the historic effort to bring the country into modernity.” At their core its members’ motivations “were to ensure the country’s complete independence” from France as well as greater social justice.46 Their motivations, however, also arose from a generational struggle for power that doomed their movement as soon as their generation moved into positions of power. Although the movement imploded in the mid-1970s, its legacy remained through its members, a veritable who’s who of the Mauritanian intelligentsia of that generation, in addition to die-hard activists. When Moktar Ould Daddah acceded to many of the PKM’s nationalist demands and the party’s members faced the choice of joining the ruling Mauritanian People’s Party or continuing life underground, many joined Ould Daddah’s party. Dissident Kadihines recreated the Afro-Mauritanian-dominated MND and kept the movement alive underground through the next two decades. After joining Ahmed Ould Daddah’s Union of Democratic Forces (UFD) at its creation in October 1991 during Taya’s promised democratization, the movement left to become the Union of Professive Forces (UFP), a left-of-center political formation.47 Drought and Social Transformation

Just as Nouakchott was asserting control over its economy, the countryside suffered the most severe drought in memory, beginning in 1969 and lasting until 1974, one so harsh that some nomadic families were reduced to eating the carcasses of dead livestock.48 The drought

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radically reordered Mauritanian society. Rapid urbanization irrevocably undermined traditional social hierarchies and caste boundaries. For one, the years of drought dispossessed the dominant Bidan class of nomadic herders, whose wealth was entirely in the form of their livestock, primarily camels and goats. Their herds lost, most chose to settle in the capital, seeking government aid. The first shantytowns, known locally as kébés, sprouted around Nouakchott, concentrating the new urban poor in shacks and tent cities. The Haratine, long used to performing the menial labor their Bidan masters disdained, were often able to adapt more quickly than their former masters. In some cases the hitherto inconceivable occurred, as urbanization reversed patronage relationships between former slaves and masters. Afro-Mauritanian immigrants from the Senegal River Valley, together with Senegalese immigrants, were also favored in these new circumstances, frequently possessing education and skills the Bidan lacked. For example, most of the small-boat fishermen in Mauritania’s rich waters were Senegalese. Haratines became politically active for the first time, and in 1974 former slaves founded El Hor, or “The Free,” a civil society group agitating against the persistence of slavery in Mauritania. After years of organizing demonstrations and distributing tracks with little effect, the movement sprang to notoriety through its involvement in the case of Mbaraka, a slave woman whose beauty allegedly led her owner to attempt in February 1980 to auction her to two rival suitors, one of whom was a Haratine officer. Subsequent demonstrations lent expression to many deeper, festering resentments, and gained El Hor the government’s enmity and repression as well as nation-wide note. After a previous government failed to crush the group, another tried to buy out Haratine grievances through a vacuous decree abolishing slavery on July 5, 1980.49 The Saharan Quagmire

Spain’s decision to abandon Rio de Oro or the Western Sahara in 1976 presented Ould Daddah with the most difficult and consequential decision he had yet faced. A parcel of desert along the Atlantic larger than the United Kingdom, the Western Sahara by virtue of its location between Mauritania and Morocco, with a small northeastern boder with Algeria, presented a point of contention for all three. Spain had claimed the territory at the 1884-1885 Berlin Conference and traditionally held an interest due the region’s proximity to the Canary Islands. The straight borders delineating former Spanish and French possessions illustrated

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the meaninglessness of such boundaries to its nomadic inhabitants, who regularly migrated across the border. Nationalism among the land’s inhabitants and interest among its neighbors only developed in the 1950s, when significant phosphate deposits were discovered in Bou Craa, and the pro-independence Polisario Front only emerged in 1973. Further complicating the matter, the Hassaniya-speaking Sahrawi inhabitants of the region were closely related to Mauritanians. Many Polisario leaders held Mauritanian citizenship and had lived in the country, while many Mauritanians considered that Nouakchott held a just claim to the region. Supporting the Sahrawis’ claim to independence was Nouakchott’s principal ally Algeria, eager to check Moroccan power following its 1963 war with the Kingdom. Ould Daddah was presented with a choice of traditional allies and an ideal-based stance, or territory. Nouakchott had long been concerned by Moroccan expansionism, given Moroccan rhetoric that designated Mauritania the southern-most province within a Greater Morocco. Morocco’s King Hassan II only recognized Mauritania in late 1969, after the intercession of fellow members of the Organization of the Islamic Conference. Dependent upon foreign aid, fearful of Moroccan irredentism, and swayed by public opinion, Nouakchott was compelled to balance the competing desires of Morocco, Bidan sympathetic to the Sahrawis, and the international community. Towards Rabat Ould Daddah supported a partition of the territory; towards pro-Sahrawi Bidan he advanced the competing notion of a Greater Mauritania incorporating the Western Sahara; to the international community the president vocally expressed his support for the Sahrawi people’s right to self-determination. The multiple stances were, of course, untenable in the long run. Aware that Morocco intended to occupy the region militarily regardless of the will of its inhabitants or Algeria, Ould Daddah signed a treaty with Morocco on April 14, 1976, the very day Spain withdrew.50 Mauritania was to receive the southern third of the Western Sahara while the Cherifian Kingdom claimed the phosphate-rich northern two-thirds. It was a blunder that would cost Ould Daddah his presidency and Mauritania civilian rule for the next twenty-nine years. Ould Daddah’s position was unpopular from the start. Most Mauritanians either supported full independence for the Sahrawis or the incorporation of the entirety of the territory into a Greater Mauritania. That many Mauritanian officers found themselves fighting their Sahrawi relatives did little to bolster their morale.51 Afro-Mauritanian conscripts did not see their interest in waging what they considered to be an interArab war where defeat was likely, and victory would only further dilute

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their share of population and power. Waging a war meant empowering the Mauritanian military, which brought disaster. The marabout–warrior divide endured. “In 1975 the Army barely had 2,000 men. A year later there were 30,000. Those recruited came from traditional warrior families, and took their revenge on those that issued them their orders, on the state. That’s when we entered this vicious cycle.”52 Mauritania’s iron exports, a vital source of foreign currency, were transported by what was at the time the world’s longest single-track railroad, from the central mining region of Zouerate to the country’s primary port, Nouadibou. The Polisario was fully aware that Mauritania was by far the weaker partner in the Rabat-Nouakchott alliance and concentrated its efforts on defeating Mauritania first, attacking the railroad and Nouakchott itself. Given Mauritania’s 2,024 kilometers of porous borders with the Western Sahara and Algeria, its sparse population and relatively small military, Nouakchott could not hope to repel the attacks and was increasingly reliant on Morocco for defense. By February 1978 some 10,000 Moroccan soldiers were stationed in major Mauritanian town with the exception of Nouakchott,53 alarming Mauritanians who recalled Morocco’s expansionist ambitions. The Saharan War marked “a catastrophe, for Ould Daddah and his ambitions for Mauritania, and for us and ours,” in the words of one Kadihine leader, who along with other Kadihines had supplied the Polisario with arms before the war. After Mauritania entered the war against the Sahrawi movement they attempted to serve both sides as mediators. The Kadihines received a verbal commitment from Moktar Ould Daddah – who refused to commit any trace of the accord to paper – to hand over the Mauritanian sector of the Western Sahara to the Polisario once the Moroccan sector fell under Polisario control, in exchange for ceasing attacks within Mauritania proper.54 Mauritanians suffered the concurrent effects of the drought and a depressed world iron ore market, and Nouakchott’s revenues fell as its military expenditures skyrocketed. Defense spending accounted for 60% of the government’s budget,55 total government expenses increased some 64%, and despite widely unpopular defense taxes the government was bankrupt within roughly a year.56 Nouakchott signed a defense treaty with Rabat and improved relations with France, relying on French military aid and advisors. But after two years of fighting, a sizeable section of the Mauritanian officer corps had concluded that the war was unwinnable. Having engaged his country in the quicksand of the Saharan War, Moktar Ould Daddah sealed his fate when he responded to growing corruption with his 1977-1978 campaign against graft, pursuing senior

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civil servants, firing two ministers, and threatening high-ranking staff officers.57 Mauritania’s military leadership faced a seemingly endless war and their source of revenue was threatened. Despite attempts to reassure the PPM faithful through an extraordinary party congress in January 1978, Ould Daddah could propose no solution to the crisis. The Advent of Military Rule

“The Army withdraws its confidence in you.” So Moktar Ould Daddah was informed in the early morning hours of July 10, 1978 by a group of officers who had already taken control of checkpoints throughout Nouakchott, including the national radio, which at that moment was broadcasting their communiqué. It was an anticlimactic end to the generation-long rule that had seen Mauritania through the euphoria of independence and the disillusionment of drought, personalized rule and war. After months of imprisonment in the desert fortress of Walata, Ould Daddah joined his wife, who had been in Dakar attending a conference at the time of the coup, in exile. His efforts to organize the Mauritanian opposition from exile in France would come to naught. He would return to Mauritania only twenty-five years later, at the very end of his life. The dominant figure in Mauritanian politics for the previous twenty-five years had abruptly vanished, replaced by a series of military rulers. Ould Daddah’s successors would eventually bring even those who had once sought to oust him to wax nostalgic for the first president’s accomplishments and vision. “Moktar came from a traditional society organized in tribes. He swept away the emirs.” In contrast “the military regime is the revenge of warrior tribes on modernity, against Moktar, against the state.”58 Colonel Mustafa Ould Salek and the seventeen other officers of the Military Committee for National Recovery (CMRN) replaced Ould Daddah. They were to be the first in a series of Mauritanian military juntas that took power with a mandate to redress the country’s endemic problems but found themselves unable to resolve them, much less those they themselves created. Ironically, Ould Daddah had appointed Col. Ould Salek as the Armed Forces chief of staff in a shuffle intended to preclude such an event. His surprise appointment was attributed to his seniority,59 but also stemmed from his lack of a following. In his address to regional commanders and senior staff officers on July 3, Ould Daddah had condemned their dubious loyalties and corruption, sealing his fate. “As the country fights for its survival, [corrupt] dealings flourish,” he intoned. “It is time to take control, to fight against corruption, the race towards privileges, the abusive

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enrichment of soldiers as with civilians.”60 This challenge to the military-bureaucratic elites could not go unanswered. As they would again in the future, Mauritanian elites changed the system’s form so as to maintain its substance: their personal hold on the state’s resources. The junta could count upon a unanimous public mandate to end the war. Yet more than an attempt to bring an unpopular war to a close, the coup constituted a landmark change in the locus of power and a change of elites, as control of the state swung from marabouts to warriors. Zawiya from the southwest had dominated Mauritania since the colonial era and throughout the reign of Moktar Ould Daddah. The new CMRN government drastically reversed the tribal composition of the cabinet, with eight Beni Hassan out of fifteen cabinet members in stark contrast to the single Beni Hassan out of thirteen ministers in Ould Daddah’s previous government. French political scientist Philippe Marchesin argues that the coup came from the South, and that the East in general had been neglected despite its demographic weight in favor of Ould Daddah’s region, the Southwest.61 These historically prominent tribes resented their marginalization at the hands of collaborators with the French colonizers. The Beni Hassan would dominate the scene for the next three decades. The CMSN

The politically inexperienced CMRN junta could not extricate Mauritania from the conflict and was overthrown in April 1979 by colonels Ahmed Ould Bouceif and Mohamed Khouna Ould Haidallah, who along with other officers formed the Military Committee for National Salvation (CMSN) replaced the CMRN.62 Colonel Ould Bouceif’s rule would last only six weeks, with his death in a mysterious May 1979 plane crash continuing to evoke claims of an assassination.63 In the aftermath Lieutenant Colonel Mohammed Mahmoud Ould Louly was named president and Haidallah prime minister, marking the ascendancy of the pro-Polisario faction. This new faction was finally able to sign an accord relinquishing Mauritania’s claim to the Western Sahara in Algiers on June 5, 1979. After closing this dolorous chapter and fulfilling their mandate, the CMSN consolidated its hold on power. Ould Louly’s presidency was short-lived, however, as within six months Colonel Haidallah, a northerner and a product of French military academies, replaced him at the helm of the CMSN. Haidallah, a rare successful commander with a following and national reputation, was a far more assertive leader than his three predecessors. He promptly purged officers deemed to have pro-

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Moroccan tendencies. In June 1980 the colonel instituted a penal code based upon Sharia law which, in addition to the Arabist educational policies, quickly earned the enmity of Afro-Mauritanians. A July 1980 law that abolished slavery for the third time – slavery had been abolished both under French colonial rule and at independence – was dismissed as an empty gesture by many Haratines, among whom dissident movements, the most influential of which was El Hor, gained considerable influence. Haidallah was also not insensitive to the siren call of personal rule. In December 1980 his junta discarded a proposed democratic constitution. In a bid to consolidate power Haidallah sought to mobilize Mauritanians while providing social services through the Structures for the Education of the Masses (SEM), which introduced the greatest level of regimentation the nomadic and decentralized population had ever known. The SEMs bore the hallmark of one-party states and were organized in a cell-like structure, permeating Mauritanian society down to the family level. Inevitably opposition to the CMSN arose. A failed coup by a pro-Libyan faction in December 1980 was followed by a coup attempt by alleged pro-Moroccan putchists in March 1981 and another by supporters of former president Ould Salek in February 1982. Other alleged coup plots by radical Baathist, Nasserist, and pro-Libyan factions bedeviled the Haidallah government, amidst drought and economic hardship.64 The colonel’s attempts at politicization and regimentation failed completely, largely because Mauritanian society traditionally does not lend itself to regimentation, especially of the ideological strain. The nomadic spirit that defied emirs survived. Haidallah’s efforts were unsuccessful and his rule saw the increasing corruption that went hand in hand with the resurgence of tribalism. Co-opting tribal elites proved necessary for the military ruler, who saw his legitimacy gleaned from ending the Saharan war fade into the twilight of memory. In examining Mauritania’s changes of government a distinct trait of largely bloodless palace coups emerges. The contrast between failed coup attempts largely coming from outside the senior ranks with successful “insider” coups illustrates two salient features. First, successful coups required the loyalty of select troops within Nouakchott, forces that for this very reason were placed under the control of multiple senior officers within the ruling junta. Coups from the subaltern ranks were consequently doomed to failure, as multiple chains of command served as fail-safes, ensuring that coup-plotters could not be assured of secrecy, nor could they gather sufficient momentum and firepower by securing the adherence of different units.

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Second, the officer corps was characterized by an aversion to combat and bloodshed. Coup-plotters instead sought to seize centers of gravity through careful planning, deception and surprise, with minimal loss of life. The objectives taken, the dislodged ruler was presented with a fait accompli and offered a graceful exit. Exactions against fellow officers were rare, and many coup plotters were quickly released.65 With the exception of the perpetrators of the March 16, 1981 coup, those who lost power struggles faced imprisonment and exile at worse – so long as they were of the Bidan ethnicity that dominated the officer corps, as the 1987 and 1989 alleged coup plots proved. The Advent of Taya

Colonel Maaouya Ould Sid’Ahmed Taya was the avatar of this breed of officer. Serving as Prime Minister from April 1981 until Haidallah arrogated the position in March 1984, and concomitantly Army Chief of Staff, Taya could boast familiarity with affairs of state in addition to his day-to-day running of the military. With Haidallah away at a conference in the Burundian capital of Bujumbura, Taya seized power on December 12, 1984.66 Born in Atar in 1943, Taya was a member of the Smassid tribe, a relatively minor tribe with a more commercial than martial orientation. Taya, according to those who had known him personally since childhood, was generally well regarded and seen as an officer of rare integrity and scrupulousness.67 He took power with a mandate to end the autocracy, corruption and tribalism that paralyzed the country. Ultimately his rule would corrupt him and in the process produce the greatest plutocracy Mauritania has known, one that would eventually trigger his downfall. A cyclical dynamic of power alternation emerged in Mauritanian politics. An untenable status quo characterized by managerial incompetence and corruption would be overthrown by a military coup, which would originate from within the military establishment if not from within the sitting junta. The coup would at first be widely welcomed, in part as relief from the previous state of affairs, but also due to the inherent pragmatism of Mauritanians. The new junta immediately would offer strong condemnation of corruption and authoritarianism, accompanied by commitments to change the status quo. The junta would initially fulfill its promises through decrees of great symbolism and formality but limited substance, such as the reabolition of slavery (1980 and 1981) or amnesty for political prisoners (1984.)

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In the ensuing years, however, the difficulties of the day-to-day management of a country marked by tribal divisions and extreme poverty would challenge the incumbent junta, whose understandable lack of preparation for effectively running a government was matched only by that of counter-powers to challenge their policies. The solution to the conundrum was a series of gentlemen’s agreements that devolved power and perquisites towards regional and tribal leaders in exchange for loyalty – the same compromises that led to the initial status quo. Change came through coup. Even cosmetic changes came only under international pressure, as when in 1991 Taya was forced to initiate a pseudo-democratization. The first years of Taya’s rule saw improvements on several different fronts. The new chief of the CMSN freed political dissidents imprisoned under Haidallah in the winter of 1984-1985. He promulgated the Constitutional Charter of 1985, which proclaimed Islam the sole source of law while promising adherence to internationally accepted principles ranging from the Universal Declaration of Human Rights to the Charter of the Arab League, in essence attempting to reconcile Islamic and Western influences. Executive power lay in the CMSN, which selected its own members.68 The Institutionalization of Corruption

In assuming power, the successive military juntas brought their worldviews to the ministries they took over. Beyond their intellectual outlook, they were unschooled, unprepared for governance, and bereft of a political base. They were therefore naturally inclined to enter into marriages of convenience with tribal aristocracies alienated from Ould Daddah’s government. The rise of tribal elites harkened what one politician described as a “veritable period of primitive capital accumulation through the pillage of the state” that occurred when junta loyalists with such tribal loyalties assumed senior leadership positions and enriched themselves.69 Theirs, however, were acts best understood in the logic of their tribalistic worldview, with its own values and morality. To explicate such a mentality is to uncover corruption’s deeply embedded roots. One researcher found centuries’ old substantiation, citing in passing one of the Prophet’s hadiths that declared that for every single judge in paradise there were two in hell. Writing at the end of the 18th century and beginning of the 19th century, Moor scholars Cheikh Sid El Moctar El Khounty and his son Sidi Mohamed El Khaliya, in their respective works El Bard el Mouecha and Ilm el Yaqueen,

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excoriated corrupt judges who sold justice to the highest bidder, demanding 10% of inheritances, for example. Two hundred years ago, the absence of any central authority and the need to finance justice through fees were pinpointed as favoring corruption.70 During the colonial era corruption assumed a patriotic mantle, an act of defiance against an alien, infidel invader that exacted a toll without offering any service in exchange. In contrast to zakat, charitable contributions in Islam that loosely corresponded to tithes, or payments towards cadis, Muslim judges, the taxes that appeared under colonialism lacked any legitimacy or moral value. To openly flout the colonialists’ laws, evade their taxes and resist their demands was an act of resistance and an affirmation of one’s tribal and Muslim identity in the face of the infidel invaders and their collaborators. That these agents were invariably drawn from outside traditional authority only further delegitimized their demands and furthered a tradition of resisting the state.71 The modern state itself in these tribes’ vision appeared as an alien entity that demanded loyalty and exacted demands while providing few services, one that justified itself in the service of a nation whose existence was purely chimerical. Loyalty was owed to real entities – one’s family, clan and tribe – rather than imagined communities such as the nation or the state. The advent of the Mauritanian state had offered certain wealth and a monopoly on legitimate power to those who could seize control of it A scramble to gain power ensued, perpetuating a vicious cycle. The state failed to provide services to citizens largely because its resources were embezzled, which in turn brought Mauritanians to rely even more heavily on tribal solidarity networks that redistributed embezzled earnings. But tribes failed to assure even the most basic needs of their members, instead concentrating their proceeds among chieftains. Taya’s Smassid tribe, for instance, counted as many desperately poor families after twenty years of his reign as it had before his taking power.72 In addition to an anti-statist tradition, Moor views had been shaped by the tradition of razzias. The bounty secured by these raids was redistributed throughout the tribe, fostering a redistributive economic system grounded in raiding others and sharing the loot in the name of tribal solidarity or asabiya. These traditions were only briefly dormant, and were reinvented in an unprecedented fashion in the 1970s. As Philippe Marchesin argued in 1992, the state, an alien, adversarial entity constituted the most appetizing prize, prompting tribes to compete over hijacking it and pillaging its resources for internal allotment. But this reallocation of wealth under the pretext of asabiya did not occur in the

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framework of a benevolent tribal welfare state, for within the tribe access to loot depended in large part upon seniority and the vagaries of tribal politics. As soon as a tribe had allied sufficient forces to takeover a wing of the government, it disintegrated in internal strife over its spoils, only to be overtaken by another tribe with stronger internal cohesion. Thus continued a cyclical mechanism of hostile takeovers, termed predatory redistribution, redirecting national wealth to a handful of tribes.73 Economic Crisis

Revenues from the mining of iron ore and Mauritania’s fisheries brought in foreign currency as agricultural production initially rose from the depressed levels induced by the droughts of the 1970s.74 Yet along with increased revenues came high inflation and crippling debt that stunted the economy. By the 1980s, along with many African states at the time of the Washington Consensus, Mauritania’s severe economic imbalances brought Nouakchott to accede to a painful structural adjustment program under the supervision of the International Monetary Fund (IMF) in exchange for debt relief. Nouakchott committed to measures intended to restructure public finances, reform trade and agriculture policy and generally favor private production.75 At the IMF’s urging Nouakchott agreed to lower public investment from 32% to 20% of GDP, so as to meet the fixed objectives of boosting GDP growth to 4%, lowering inflation to 5%, and bringing the external account deficit to zero by 1990.76 These measures did not prevent the 1980s from being a “lost decade” of slow growth for Mauritania, as in the rest of the subcontinent by and large.77 In 1990 GDP increased by a mere 0.3%, compared to 10.3% in 1974.78 Worse, Mauritania’s debt only rose. In 1984 outstanding debt amounted to $1.7 billion, and servicing that debt required some $88 million, or 28% of export earnings. By 1990 the debt attained $1.9 billion, some $1,000 per capita,79 which exceeded GDP per capita in a country suffering recurrent droughts and mass poverty. These austerity measures intended to meet IMF and World Bank objectives harmed many Mauritanians, particularly the most disadvantaged. The diverse and burgeoning new urban underclass, ranging from the Haratines to their former masters and encompassing Afro-Mauritanian migrants from the south as well, taxed already insufficient resources further reduced by the mandated decrease in public investment. The devalued ouguiya, combined with rising prices for staples, ravaged the spending power of lower income city dwellers. Dispossessed nomads found themselves compelled to sell their

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remaining livestock at low prices to speculators, who in turn sold the animals at inflated prices in the south. Heightened competition between the poorest of the poor together with government policies of discrimination fomented the racial and ethnic tensions that were to plunge the country into its darkest days. The “Events” of 1989

Ethnic strains had long been visible, but it was land reform measures that fermented open strife. Under the auspices of stimulating agricultural development, the 1983 Land Reform Act allowed the government to cede any land deemed undeeded or unimproved to those who undertook to improve it. Save for scattered oases, Mauritania’s arable land was in the extended Senegal River Valley and tilled primarily by AfroMauritanians, who mostly cultivated wheat, rice, and sorghum. But by allowing fields to lay fallow so as to replenish the soil, AfroMauritanian agriculturalists exposed themselves to the risk of having their properties confiscated by the government and sold for a pittance to Bidan with government connections. Unintentionally, World Bank and IMF-directed agricultural investment schemes favored private ownership, and thus the Bidan.80 The timeless conflict between sedentary farmers and pastoralists was accentuated by drought, which brought pastoralists to the Senegal River Valley. In March 1983 the African Liberation Forces of Mauritania or FLAM, 81 a French homophone with flame, appeared. Its resentment and that of many black Mauritanians was articulated by the seminal 1986 Manifesto of the Oppressed Black Mauritanian. Clandestinely distributed in Nouakchott, this pamphlet was a detailed critique of the “Bidan system,” seeing institutionalized racism or “Mauritanian apartheid” in every facet of Mauritanian life. According to the manifesto, “the future of the black community” depended on nothing less than “the destruction of the Bidan system and the establishment of a political system that is fair and egalitarian, one with which all the country’s components can identify.”82 The means to such a revolution were not specified. Taya responded by imprisoning much of the FLAM leadership in the Walata prison, where some, including preeminent intellectual Tene Youssouf Gueye, perished. If the FLAM’s core was comprised of dissident intellectuals, what alarmed Taya was the prospect of a mutiny by black Mauritanian soldiers. On October 17, 1987, the CMSN announced the exposure of a coup attempt within the military by FLAM loyalists. In November, fifty-one black Mauritanian army officers were

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court-martialed, and three lieutenants, accused of being the ringleaders, were sentenced to execution. The young officers were nonetheless shot by firing squad on December 6,83 priming the charge for the crisis of April 1989. Blood and Soil

The fateful spark came in the sleepy village of Diawara on April 9, 1989. The small settlement on an island in the Senegal River was stirred by the shooting of two Senegalese farmers by Mauritanian herders,84 or according to others the killing of a Mauritanian by a Senegalese policeman.85 Regardless of the exact cause, news of the shooting incident provoked riots in Senegal targeting Moors, which then incited attacks on Senegalese and black Mauritanians in Mauritania. “Every year there were rows between herders and farmers. It just so happened that that year nationalist minorities were able to exploit the discord.”86 Rather than suppressing the attacks, the government organized them. The Army, National Guard, and various Haratine militias attacked AfroMauritanians in a campaign that turned many out of their homes and off their land. Nearly 3,000 Afro-Mauritanians were reportedly jailed for sedition and subjected to torture. Within the military, between 500 and 600 black officers and men were executed or tortured to death in unspeakable manners, according to Human Rights Watch,87 many on the pretext of a contrived coup attempt in Nouadhibou,88 a placid port in Mauritania’s northwest corner far removed from the locus of power in Nouakchott. To celebrate Mauritania’s thirtieth anniversary of independence on November 28, 1990, officers at the Inal barracks northeast of Nouadhibou hanged some twenty-eight black Mauritanian soldiers.89 Along the southern border, Human Rights Watch alleged, entire villages were raised, and communities expelled en masse across the river to Senegal, sometimes forced to swim and carry those unable to do so. Moors moved into their villages and seized their land.90 The attacks continued well into 1990, as did border clashes between Mauritanian and Senegalese troops. Diplomatic relations were broken and phone, air and land links were cut.91 In total, some 300,000 Mauritanians fled Senegal, while some 90,000 Senegalese were expelled from Mauritania and fled to Senegal and Mali. Black Mauritanians were reported to have been deported en masse in trucks, where some suffocated. Certain black Mauritanians were targeted for expulsion, among them civil servants, the politically active, trade unionists, and white collar professionals in general.92 Nouakchott had little compunction in organizing the mass

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expulsion of Senegalese citizens and Mauritanians from the Senegal River Valley tribes.93 In Senegal, tens of Bidan shopkeepers and their families were lynched.94 To staunch the bloodshed both countries began repatriating one another’s citizens, with the help of the international community.95 Their victimization rationalized by that of Bidan in Senegal, AfroMauritanians who found themselves expelled were also stripped of their possessions as well as their homes and land by troops seconded by mobs of looters, many of them Haratines. In two-pronged effort to reduce Afro-Mauritanian political and economic power, the architects of Mauritania’s expulsions sought to involve Haratine mobs in atrocities and looting so as to ensure unity among white and black Moors rather than a potential coalition between two disadvantaged and abused segments of the population,96 which collectively outnumbered Bidan roughly two to one. With the rule of law and the binds of morality suddenly lifted, score-settling targeting Afro-Mauritanians became commonplace.97 If the violence targeted Afro-Mauritanians and drew upon Haratine mobs so as to pit the two communities against one another, Haratines themselves were not immune to persecution. Educated professionals who stood in the way of their Bidan colleagues’ ascension could be as vulnerable as their Halpulaar, Wolof or Soninké colleagues.98 The country’s southern breadbasket was torn by strife and the expulsion of many of its cultivators. Years after the oppression systematic discrimination in aspects of life ranging from schooling, employment, loans, land permits, and crucial elements of civic existence such as identity papers persisted.99 Nouakchott’s policies stripped the nation of some of its best and brightest intellectuals, civil servants and cadres. It crippled its economy by exiling skilled workers and expelling farmers and herders. Since the 1980s an unrelenting hemorrhage of educated black Mauritanian professionals has deprived the country of some of its best and brightest, in a brain drain that has sent them as far afield as Europe and America. The flight stemmed from desperation. “I have no ability to have my children succeed, sometimes I no longer want to live” one testified. The only reason he had not followed them was his age. Further, like many middle-aged men in his society, he had taken in extended family members and felt responsible for their plight.100 While his security apparatus ensured that the actions of AfroMauritanian dissidents were largely ineffectual, by mid-1990 Taya was increasingly concerned about the stability of his regime faced with threats from within. Shuffling his staff, he placed his family and members of his Smassid tribe in key positions of the military and

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security apparatus, so that command of military forces radiated outward in concentric circles of loyalty to him. His cousin, Dedahi Ould Abdallahi, for instance, became the chief of State Security and his cousin, Lieutenant Abderrahmane Ould Lekwar, Navy chief. The commanders of regional military commands came from his tribe, while the head of the National Guard, Lieutenant Colonel Mohammed Lemine Ould Ndiayane, hailed from his hometown.101 The President’s true isolation had yet to begin. Choosing Saddam

The “events” of April 1989 and confrontation with Senegal found their corollary in Mauritania’s foreign policy. Throughout the decade Nouakchott had hewed to an Arab-oriented foreign policy, nurturing close relations specifically with Saddam Hussein. Nouakchott’s alienation from much of the international community following the April 1989 events pushed its rulers even further into Saddam’s orbit. Baghdad was Nouakchott’s most vocal defender and provided military aid and advisors in defiance of the West. For Saddam, Mauritania provided an opportunity to display his munificence, and the state fit within his PanArab worldview as the Western-most state of the Arab nation. Iraq’s distance assured Mauritania’s rulers that it would be an ally doting from afar, supporting Nouakchott without closely interfering in its affairs. Baathist influence increased further. In 1990 Taya named the two main Mauritanian Baathist leaders, Yedih Ould Breideleil and Moktar Ould Haye, to cabinet level functions.102 With Iraq supplying so many arms that the port of Nouakchott remained closed every night to accept them, Mauritania became a “virtual dependency” of Iraq.103 Thus when the Iraqi dictator invaded Kuwait on August 2, 1990, Taya came to the defense of his benefactor. Taya’s decision to support Saddam proved disastrous. Saddam’s two other backers in the Gulf War, Jordan’s King Hussein and the PLO’s Yasser Arafat, had by the early 1990s again won favor as key players in the Middle East peace process. Mauritania could not claim any geopolitical significance to elevate it from worldwide ostracism in the name of realpolitik. Its support for Saddam only increased the focus on its treatment of black Mauritanians and the issue of slavery. A Feint Towards Democracy

As Mauritania’s foreign image reached its nadir, another momentous change in global politics reached its conclusion. In December 1989, at

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the height of repression directed against Afro-Mauritanians, the Berlin Wall fell. Less than two years later, the Soviet Union collapsed. The bipolar logic that had justified the support of dictatorships throughout the Third World ended. Unipolarity changed the dynamics between African states and the West. No longer could rulers play upon Cold War rivalries and expect support in exchange for neutrality. Nouakchott suddenly found itself without a patron in a world increasingly hostile towards autocratic regimes, as the wave of change shook neighboring dictatorships. Unrest compelled Algeria’s military rulers to hold that country’s first free elections in December 1991. The generals then cancelled the second round when the Islamists won the first. King Hassan II promulgated a new constitution in 1992 that moved Morocco towards a constitutional monarchy. In Mali, the murderous repression of widespread demonstrations on March 22, 1991 provoked a coup four days later that toppled the brutal twenty-three year dictatorship of Moussa Traoré. Following a transitional government multiparty elections were held in 1992 and Alpha Oumar Konaré was legitimately elected. In the aftermath of Taya’s support for the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait, Gulf States had cut off their once substantial aid, and as Mauritania’s main trading partner and the disburser of $52 million in aid during 1990 France’s voice resonated there.104 Speaking before the 16th FrancoAfrican summit on June 20, 1990, French president François Mitterrand, who had long embraced autocratic client states, solemnly declared that France would reduce its aid towards “those who behaved themselves in an authoritarian fashion” in favor of “those who, with courage, will take the step towards democratization.”105 The Baule speech, as it came to be known, marked an epochal change in France’s relations with its former colonies. Joining the rest of the West, Paris now demanded a measure of democracy, if only in the most procedural sense. Taya recognized the winds of change and reacted through a dramatic shift towards the West, illustrating the compelling influence of foreign events in the country’s domestic politics, as well as his own pragmatism. During the brief liberalization between 1991 and 1994, known as the “Desert Spring,” Taya staged Mauritania’s first feint toward democratization. On July 25, 1991, Ordinance #91-023 on freedom of the press took effect. Though newspapers were seized in August 1991 and June 1993, censorship was far more relaxed and the written press in particular came into its own.106 Such freedoms were short-lived. As opposition to Taya’s government expressed itself, censorship grew. Despite its preambles, Ordinance # 91-023 guaranteed the state broad censorship powers,

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which the new interior minister, Mohamed Lémine Salem Ould Dah, exercised. Thus the doyen of Mauritanian journalism, the late Habib Ould Mahfoud, saw his French-language journal Le Calame become the most censored and seized newspaper in Mauritanian history. Journalists were frequently detained or arrested outright. Censors waited until newspapers were printed before banning them, bankrupting publishers. The government waged a war of attrition through other means, as dozens of ephemeral newspapers appeared, sapping the circulation of independent newspapers. Journalist Illia Djadi found that during the civilian segment of Taya’s rule, between 1991 and 2004, some 700 newspaper licenses were allocated.107 Of those 700 titles, only twenty were in regular circulation.108 The new tenets of Taya’s policy included overtures towards black Mauritanians, the adoption of a democratic front, and the support of Western initiatives, most notably the Middle East peace process. The campaign against black Mauritanians for all intents and purposes ceased immediately with Iraq’s defeat.109 In June 1991 a democratic constitution was presented and the first multiparty elections, presidential and parliamentary, were scheduled for the following year. Yet the July 12, 1991 constitution itself only passed in a tainted referendum wherein 98% of voters supported the measure, but only 8% of registered voters could cast their ballot.110 As coming events would prove, the regime’s repressive superstructure remained beneath the democratic veneer.111 Tapping Tribalism

Taya found willing allies among tribal leaders throughout the country’s hinterland. Mauritanian novelist Mbarek Ould Beyrouk voices the sentiments of these traditionalist power-brokers through his protagonist Bechir Ould Bakar Ould Lehbib, for whom the state is an alien, hostile force, and an existential threat to the established order. “It lives close to us, with us, and it wants to swallow us.”112 Yet, so as to remain the same, tribes were forced to change, acknowledging the Party-State and arriving at a modus vivendi with its leaders. In the early nineties, with the commencement of Mauritania’s pseudo-democratization and the establishment of a ruling party, tribal notables allied themselves with the Taya regime so as to ensure their place in the prevailing order and receive patronage in exchange for their support: “They gathered us one day, we tribal chiefs and barons, and declared that henceforth, there was democracy, there would be elections, and we would all have to join a party. We all understood that this was but a

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new government caprice, and that very day we all joined the party that claimed the support of the government, the elites, and other tribes, because we rejected deep change, the ire of sated city-dwellers, and turmoil brought from afar.”113

And thus in 1991 tribal notables came to Taya’s succor, through an electoral disposition that allotted all urban centers with less that 31,000 inhabitants one national assemblyman, and major cities with over that number only two. This gerrymandering accentuated the weight of the sparsely populated hinterland, where the power of the tribe was most present. The corollary to the gerrymandered electoral system was an informal pact sealed between the senior leadership and its loyalist civil servants, granting the latter freedom to pilfer public funds “so long as they ensured their allegiance and that of their entourage.” In essence, “so long as one supported the rulers, one had the right to embezzle” from what had become known as the “boutique state.” Positions of responsibility were commodified according to the size of the budgets to which they provided access, and presented as rewards for political support. The government’s legitimacy crumbled, to be replaced by a politicaleconomic system described as mafia-like, “with its verbal contracts, protection guarantees, [and] its lobbies.”114 Rigging Elections

Some sixteen main political parties were allowed to compete in the 1992 elections. Among them was the Democratic, Republican and Social Party (PRDS), a party Taya created to legitimate his rule. A broader opposition front formed under the aegis of the Union of Democratic Forces (UFD), which backed longtime dissident Ahmed Ould Daddah as a presidential candidate. An economist, Ould Daddah was the younger brother of Mauritania’s first president and had served as a minister in his brother’s cabinet. Stripped of his citizenship and exiled, he had led an itinerant life, serving as an economic advisor to the government of the Central African Republic before being allowed to return and run for president. If the younger Ould Daddah was the consensus candidate for most of the opposition, he was Taya’s ideal candidate as well. Exile had prevented him from building a base of support and an intimacy with Mauritanian politics.115 The strongman advanced the date of the elections to November 1991, before any of the newly minted parties, including to some accounts his own, were ready. Taya exploited what he perceived to be his main opponent’s weaknesses as a Westernized modernizer from the

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South, leading an effective campaign in the Mauritanian heartland that appealed to traditional sentiment and caricatured the opposition UFD as “the party of the French” and “the foreigner’s party.” He rallied former opponents to his side, including former FLAM radicals. Tempting other opponents with liberalization measures, the Taya government amnestied political prisoners and increased press freedoms. Yet these measures contained Trojan horse provisions allowing for censorship and the banning of political parties. A tradition of giving with one hand to take with the other, of loosening the leash to better tighten it, continued. In its campaigning the government drew fully upon the state’s resources, while rigging voter registration drives to discriminate against those perceived to likely oppose Taya – particularly black Mauritanians. The UFD claimed that in Nouakchott alone roughly 25,000 voters were prevented from registering, and foreign journalists noted “flagrant” voting irregularities.116 With such means the result was over-determined, and the governing PRDS party easily won the parliamentary elections. With participation at only 46%, Taya won the presidential elections with 63% of the vote, while Ahmed Ould Daddah came in second with 30%. The elections were marred by claims of fraud. When the presidential election results were released, violent clashes erupted throughout the country as the opposition demonstrated against what was in all evidence a stolen election. The UFD contested the results and led unprecedented demonstrations in the capital, with some sixty to eighty thousand demonstrators. Government security forces attacked demonstrators, killing several and imprisoning twenty-seven. The demonstrations had little effect, however, and by the end of 1992 the UFD had begun to splinter along factional lines. When legislative elections were held in March 1992, “some two-thirds of the 1.2 million eligible voters did not vote.”117 With the opposition in disarray, Taya could now claim to have been democratically elected president and even began to reconcile with foreign adversaries, reestablishing diplomatic relations with Senegal in April 1992. Renewing ties with the West and America in particular proved more challenging. By the mid-1990s Mauritania’s image in Washington, to the extent it had one, was that of a Baathist state that had favored Saddam Hussein, supported slavery and enforced white Moor supremacy at gunpoint. In response, Taya completed his turn towards the West and courted America’s favor, in no small part by establishing diplomatic relations with Israel. Relations with America and the European Union countries improved. In May 1999, the Taya Government created a new cabinet post, the Commissariat for Human

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Rights, Poverty Alleviation, and Integration, in large part to address the vestiges of slavery.118 On October 28, 1999, Mauritania upgraded its relations with Israel to the ambassadorial level with an agreement signed by the Mauritanian and Israeli foreign ministers in Washington. Mauritania thereby became one of only three Arab League nations, and the only Arab nation that did not share a border with Israel, to recognize and exchange ambassadors with Israel. The wildly unpopular move became a lightening rod for the opposition. The PRDS rendered such opposition ineffectual, however. The Decline of the PRDS System

Power in Mauritania remained monopolized by the PRDS system, which melded the party apparatus, the state, and the military. The monolithic system tolerated no checks on its control, stifling public life. Its dominance impeded the development of any alternative sources of power and democratic development.119 While Mauritania was far from a totalitarian state, no domain, from business to civil society to academe escaped government interference. At the same time the party-state could not protect Mauritania’s waters, among the richest fishing zones in the world, from the fleets of foreign trawlers that illegally overfished and provoked crashes in stocks that crippled local fisheries. Nor could it offer the semblance of an education to many Mauritanians, of whom in 2000 nearly half were illiterate. Nearly half of the country’s schoolchildren never completed primary school, and only 38% went on to receive secondary schooling.120 Though a dozen main political parties operated at any given time, rather than serving as a check on the PRDS’s power these parties merely reinforced its claims to democratic pluralism. Opposition parties themselves failed to surmount tribal or ethnic appeals. 2001 dealt Taya’s presidency a temporary reprieve. That year oil deposits were discovered eighty kilometers offshore by the Australian firm Woodside Petroleum. Initial reports indicated that some 75,000 barrels could be pumped daily, which would exceed revenue from iron ore production and fisheries, hitherto the primary sources of foreign currency. Though the original estimation of the deposit was a rather modest 123 million barrels, figures of up to a billion were cited. A boom ensued in the capital, as investors poured into the country anticipating oil wealth. In October 2001 Mauritanians voted in parliamentary and municipal elections, which unsurprisingly were won by the ruling PRDS. However, after mostly boycotting the 1996 and 1997 rounds of elections and in consequence only holding one out of eighty-one seats,

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the opposition for the first time made substantial gains in parliament and in the 216 municipal councils across the country.121 A decade after the initiation of democratic change, some fifteen parties contested seats. Taya also made other conciliatory gestures, permitting former president Moktar Ould Daddah to return after two decades in exile. External developments gave Taya further respite. Following the attacks of September 11, Nouakchott branded itself as uncompromising against encroaching Islamist terrorism to cement a strong security relationship with the United States.122 Mauritania became a member of the Pan-Sahel Initiative and the follow-on Trans-Sahel Counterterrorism Initiative (TSCTI), which aimed to train and equip select units of Sahelian countries’ militaries to serve as quick-reaction forces against the attacks emanating from the Salafist Group for Predication and Combat, or GSPC. The GSPC, which would rebrand itself Al Qaida in the Islamic Maghreb (AQIM) in January 2007, was originally an Algerian terrorist organization with an Islamic fundamentalist agenda and virtually no public support in Mauritania. That did not signify a lack of public discontent, however, given the absolute poverty affecting 46.7% of the population,123 juxtaposed to the burgeoning villas and SUVs that filled new neighborhoods. The expanding villas were constructed in full view or in the place of the kébés, the shantytowns that surrounded the capital. Those in the interior who had long complained of government neglect now felt more abandoned than ever. Life expectancy remained a mere fifty-two years of age and, overall, Mauritania remained in the lowest quartile of the UN Human Development Index. By 2003 visions of a Mauritanian Dubai were replaced by malaise over a weak economy and an unabashedly autocratic and corrupt political system. Estimates of crude oil reserves were downgraded to 310 million barrels, and extraction experienced teething delays. Mauritanians were losing patience. Mauritania had reached an impasse as the cycle of corruption and mismanagement reached its climax. After staving off opposition with promises of reform and economic growth for a dozen years, Taya could no longer credibly promise either. The aging autocrat returned to timeworn autocratic reflexes. He banned the opposition alliance Action for Change and arrested political opponents, including those opposition leaders who had once allied themselves with him.124 More ominously, he pursued purges of suspected Islamists and Arab nationalists within the military, sowing considerable disgruntlement within the ranks. These discontents, unlike their civilian counterparts, had means to assert their dissent that spoke more loudly than words.

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1 Désiré-Vuillemin, Geneviève, Histoire de la Mauritanie – Des origines à l’indépendence, Karthala, 1997, pg. 33. 2 Ibid, pg. 28. 3 CIA World Factbook, Mauritania, retrieved January 20, 2008, https:// www.cia.gov/library/publications/the-world-factbook/geos/mr.html#People. 4 Ibid. 5 Devey, Muriel, La Mauritanie, Karthala, 2005, pg. 97. 6 Ibid, pg. 101. 7 Ibid, pg. 103. 8 Most Mauritanians interviewed explained President Abdallahi’s character and comportment by virtue of his values as the scion of a maraboutic family. 9 Jourde, Cédric, “The President is Coming to Visit!”: Dramas and the Hijack of Democratization in the Islamic Republic of Mauritania, Comparative Politics, 37(4), July 2005, pg. 437. 10 David, Natacha, Matriarcat et Islam : “Plus tu as de maris, plus tu es respectable”, Courrier International, October 29, 2008. 11 State Department Bureau of Democracy, Human Rights and Labor, 2005 Country Reports on Human Rights Practices: Mauritania, March 8, 2006. 12 David, Natacha, op.cit.. 13 Devey, Muriel, op.cit., pg. 75. 14 Pazzanita, Anthony G., Political Transition in Mauritania: Problems and Prospects, Middle East Journal, Vol. 53, No. 1 (Winter, 1999), pg. 44. 15 Dilip Hiro, War Without End, Routeledge, 2002, pg. 32. 16 Mauritania: A Country Study, Federal Research Division, 1990, pg. 64. 17 Kinne, Lance, The Benefits of Exile: The case of FLAM, The Journal of Modern African Studies, Vol. 39, No. 4 (Dec., 2001), pp. 612-614. 18 Fleischman, Janet, Mauritania's Campaign of Terror: State-Sponsored Repression of Black Africans, Human Rights Watch, 1994, pg. 91. 19 Beaugé, Florence, Barakatou, libérée par hasard, Le Monde, February 16, 2009. 20 Human Rights Watch, op.cit., pg. 94. 21 Beaugé, Florence, op.cit. 22 Etcheverry, Marc, La Mauritanie esclave de son histoire, L’Express, February 18, 2009. 23 CIA World Factbook, Mauritania, retrieved January 20, 2008, https:// www.cia.gov/library/publications/the-world-factbook/geos/mr.html#People. 24 Desire-Vuillemin, Genevieve, op.cit., pg. 472. 25 Ibid, pp. 473-474. 26 Ibid, pg. 589. 27 Ibid, pg. 589. 28 Mauritania: A Country Study, Federal Research Division, 1990, pg. 65. 29 A detailed account is offered in Robinson, David, The Murids: Surveillance and Collaboration, The Journal of African History, Vol. 40, No. 2. (1999), pp. 193-213. 30 Désiré-Vuillemin, Geneviève, op.cit., pg. 606. 31 Lacking the legitimacy to win election to the territorial counsel in his hometown, Boutilimit, Moktar Ould Daddah had to run in the north among the Regueibat tribe. Marchesin, Philippe, Tribus, ethnies, et Pouvoir en Mauritanie, Karthala, 1992, pg. 81.

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45

Interview (#23) with Abdelkader Ould Hamad, June 2009. Ministry of Culture, Youth and Sports, Nouakchott, Capitale de la Mauritanie: 50 ans de défi, Éditions SÉPIA, 2006, pg. 28. 34 Interview (#10) with Mohamed Saïd Ould Hamody, December 2007. 35 Gerteiny, Alfred G., Mauritania, Praeger, 1967, pg. 157. 36 Devey, Muriel, op.cit., pg. 153. 37 Interview (#24) with Aboulaye Ciré Ba, June 2009. 38 Interview (#26) with Dr. Mohamed-Mahmoud El Hacen, June 2009. 39 Ibid. 40 Interview (#23) with Abdelkader Ould Hamad, June 2009. 41 Ibid. 42 Ibid. 43 Interview (#25) with Mohamedeen Ould Bagga, June 2009. 44 Interview (#24) with Aboulaye Ciré Ba, June 2009. 45 Interview (#21) with University of Nouakchott Prof. Seyyid Ould Bah, June 2009. 46 Interview (#26) with Dr. Mohamed-Mahmoud El Hacen, June 2009. 47 Interview (#24) with Aboulaye Ciré Ba, June 2009. 48 Interview (#23) with Abdelkader Ould Hamad, June 2009. 49 Human Rights Watch, op.cit., pg 87. 50 Ibid, pg. 157. 51 Colonel Mohamed Khouna Ould Haidalla for instance, a senior Mauritanian commander battling Polisario guerillas during the war and later president, was in fact a member of the Laaroussien tribe collocated in the Western Sahara and Mauritania. 52 Interview (#23) with Abdelkader Ould Hamad, June 2009. 53 Op.cit., Federal Research Division, 1990, pg. 174. 54 Interview (#23) with Abdelkader Ould Hamad, June 2009. 55 Marchesin, Philippe, op.cit., pg. 153. 56 Op.cit., Federal Research Division, 1990, pg. 30. 57 Blundo, Giorgio, « Graisser la barbe » : Mécanismes et logiques de la corruption en Mauritanie, Note de synthèse établie à l’intention de la Délégation de la Commission européenne en Mauritanie, February 2007, pg. 9. 58 Interview (#23) with Abdelkader Ould Hamad, June 2009. 59 Villasante–de Beauvais, Mariella, Parenté et Politique en Mauritanie, L’Harmattan, 1998, pg. 182. 60 Marchesin, Philippe, op.cit., pg. 155, citing Jeune Afrique, no. 917 August 2nd, 1978, pg. 20. 61 Ibid., pg. 157. 62 Devey, Muriel, op.cit, Karthala, 2005, pg. 159. 63 Villasante–de Beauvais, Mariella, op.cit., pg. 185. 64 Ibid, pp. 188-190. 65 Interview (#9) with a Mauritanian senior officer, December, 2007. 66 Op.cit., Federal Research Division, 1990, pg. 125. 67 Interview (#15) with a Mauritanian statesman, December 2007. 68 Op.cit., Federal Research Division, 1990, pp. 128-129. 69 Blundo, Giorgio, op.cit., pg. 9. 70 Ibid, pg. 7. 71 Ibid, pg. 8. 33

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72

Interview (#1) with Sidi Mohammed Ould Cheiguer, December 2007. Blundo, Giorgio, op.cit., pg. 31, citing Marchesin, Philippe, op.cit., pg. 238, 1992. 74 Ibid, pp. 136. 75 Ould Mey, Mohameden, Global Restructuring and Peripheral States: The Carrot and the Stick in Mauritania, Rowman and Littlefield, 1996, pg. 38. 76 Ibid, pg. 104. 77 Ibid, pg. 18. 78 Ibid, pg. 25. 79 Ibid, pg. 115. 80 Human Rights Watch, op.cit., pp. 45-46. 81 The organization still posesses a website: http://www.flamus.net/; retrieved February 3, 2008. 82 Human Rights Watch, op.cit., pg. 109. 83 Ibid, pg. 115. 84 Ibid, pg. 13. 85 Interview (#15) with a Mauritanian statesman, December 2007. 86 Interview (#27) with Mohamedine Diop, June 2009. 87 Human Rights Watch, op.cit., pg. 73. 88 Interview (#10) with Mohamed Saïd Ould Hamody, December 2007. 89 N’Diaye, Boubacar, Francophone Africa in Flux: Mauritania’s stalled democratization, The Journal of Democracy, Volume 12, Number 3 (2001), pg. 91; and Human Rights Watch, op.cit., 1994, pg. 76. 90 Human Rights Watch, op.cit., pp. 19-20. 91 Marchesin, Philippe, op.cit., pg. 222. 92 Human Rights Watch World Report 1989, Mauritania, retrieved on February 7, 2008, at: http://www.hrw.org/reports/1989/WR89/Mauritan.htm TopOfPage. 93 Interview (#10) with Mohamed Saïd Ould Hamody, December 2007. 94 Human Rights Watch, op.cit., pp. 16-17. 95 Ibid, pg. 17. 96 Ibid, pg. 18. 97 Ibid, pg. 38. 98 Châtelot, Christophe, op.cit. 99 Human Rights Watch, op.cit., pg. 5. 100 Interview (#20) with a black Mauritanian professional in Nouakchott, June 2009. 101 Marchesin, Philippe, op.cit., pg. 221. 102 Ibid, pg. 218. 103 Pazzanita, Anthony G., Mauritania's Foreign Policy: the Search for Protection, The Journal of Modern African Studies (1992), 330, pp. 299–300. 104 Marchesin, Philippe, op.cit., pg. 159. 105 French Foreign Ministry, Les 22 premières conférences des chefs d’état de France de d’Afrique, November 11, 2005, http://www.diplomatie.gouv.fr/ fr/IMG/pdf/B0100_-fiche22sommets.pdf, retrieved August 20, 2009. 106 Campagne Mondiale pour la Liberté d’Expression, Mauritanie : Rapport sur la Liberté d’Expression: Nous revenons de loin, mais restons vigilants, June 2007, pg. 11. 73

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47

Ibid, pp. 11–12. International Research and Exchanges Board, Mauritania, Media Sustainability Index for Africa 2006-2007, based on a study conducted in partnership with the PANOS Institute West Africa and a moderated panel of a dozen Mauritanian journalists. http://www.irex.org/programs/msi_africa/ mauritania.asp, retrieved March 17, 2009. 109 Interview (#8) with a well-known Mauritanian human rights advocate, December 2007. 110 N’Diaye, Boubacar, Francophone Africa in Flux: Mauritania’s stalled democratization, The Journal of Democracy, Volume 12, Number 3 (2001), pg. 92. 111 Human Rights Watch, op.cit., pg. 132. 112 Ould Beyrouk, Mbarek, Et le ciel a oublié de pleuvoir, Dapper, Paris, 2006, pg. 37. 113 Ibid, pp. 45-46. 114 Blundo, Giorgio, op.cit., pg. 11-12. 115 Ould Mey, Mohameden, op.cit., pg. 112 116 Human Rights Watch, op.cit., pp. 134-138. 117 Ibid, pg. 139. 118 1999 Human Rights Report on Mauritania, US Department of State, retrieved August 25, 2009. 119 Pazzanita, Anthony G., The Origins and Evolution of Mauritania's Second Republic, The Journal of Modern African Studies, Vol. 34, No. 4 (Dec., 1996), pg. 595. 120 World Bank, Mauritania Education Profile Summary, retrieved February 7, 2008. 121 BBC News, Mauritania ruling party wins easily, October 21, 2001. 122 Jourde, Cédric, Representations of the War on Terror, The Journal of Contemporary African Studies, Vol. 25, No. 1, pg. 88. 123 BBC News, op.cit., October 21, 2001. 124 Interview (#5) with entrepreneur Béchir El Hassen, December 18, 2007. 108

3 The Army Breaks Ranks

Shortly before 2:00 a.m. on Sunday morning, June 8, 2003, automatic weapons fire erupted around the presidential palace and Nouakchott’s airport. A column of some twenty tanks rumbled along the sand-strewn streets, supported by an aircraft that strafed the presidential palace.1 The group split into separate units and attacked strategic points: the presidential palace, the TV and radio station, the airport, and the Army headquarters. In addition to surprise, the putschists initially enjoyed the advantages of superior firepower and momentum as the armored battalion stationed in the capital rallied to the side of the coup. By midday armored vehicles had taken central Nouakchott. Over the next two days an almost surreal situation prevailed in some neighborhoods. Residents went about their daily business, ignoring the tanks as they would the many obstinate goats that still occasionally brought traffic to a halt as they foraged on the streets. Chaos prevailed elsewhere, where intense fighting pitted elite presidential guard troops against mutineers in armored vehicles. The release of inmates from Nouakchott’s main prison led to the pillaging of the Ministry of Education and the national postal service.2 Most of the Gendarmerie in the capital stood down and remained uncommitted for much of the fighting. It immediately appeared evident that the heart of the Army was in the coup, and that a coup instigated by a small minority within the military was the portent of widespread disgruntlement.3 That a cashiered officer turned taxi driver had been able to incite the soldiers of one of Mauritania’s best units to risk all and mutiny was indicative of the rampant discontent within the ranks, above and beyond the perpetrator’s charisma. And the ability of a handful of armored vehicles to lay siege to the capital for two days without significant opposition from the Gendarmerie or Army units stationed within the city testified to the depth of disillusionment within the military. At this most critical of junctures the regime’s pillars were apathetic at best in its defense.

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A noticeable lack of commitment was also visible in the upper echelons of the Taya administration, one that later claims of loyalty and public marches in support of the president could scarcely conceal. Several ministers adopted wait and see attitudes, hardly conveying confidence in their government, with some fleeing the capital. Over the course of Sunday, June 8, while the outcome of the fighting was still highly uncertain, none of Mauritania’s ambassadors abroad dared condemn the coup.4 The mastermind behind the tanks in the street was Major Saleh Ould Hannena, a Bidan Army officer and former commander of the armored battalion who had been cashiered in 2001 for political agitation. He had criticized President Taya in front of his men5 and may already have been plotting a coup at that time.6 Many of his followers were subaltern officers and even young cadets. Most participants came from the ranks of the armored battalion located in Nouakchott, whom Hannena had been able to sway to his side despite his ostracism while their commander was abroad on a training assignment.7 Ideologically, the coup’s participants were decidedly Arab nationalist and pro-Islamist in outlook. Both Hannena and Mohammed Ould Cheikna, the former G-1 or head of personnel within the Army staff, had trained together in Saudi Arabia and were quite unapologetic about their Islamist-Arab nationalist convictions. Ethnically, the participants were largely Bidan, mostly from the East and in particular from Hanenna’s Ouled Nasser tribe. The Ouled Nasser had long felt marginalized under the rule of Taya and his fellow Smassid.8 But the motivations of the mostly junior officers behind the 2003 coup were far more personal than ideological. Civilians recognized this, and though many households had small arms, civilians did not engage in the fighting. They had always considered coups a purely military affair, viewing them not as a question of popular legitimacy but as battles between military factions.9 Instead, the power of humiliation, and the ensuing desire for vengeance, cannot be overstated in its importance.10 Major Ould Hannena, had gone from a position of prestige and authority within one of Mauritania’s best equipped units to seeing his Army career ended in disgrace; by the time of the coup he had been reduced to driving his personal car as a taxi driver.11 His gambit was predicated on the success of a swift decapitation strike on the presidential palace. Commencing at 4:00 a.m. on Sunday June 8, a column from the armored battalion was to penetrate the palace’s defenses, allowing putschists to kill or capture Taya, thus incapacitating the highly personalized system of government. Once the president was neutralized, the presumptive junta would announce the

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formation of a new ruling military committee, suspend the 1991 constitution, immediately end relations with Israel and call new national elections.12 The coup was divulged early, and its implementers compelled to act precipitously and charge the presidential palace shortly after 1:00 a.m. Taya had escaped his residence, however, and taken shelter in the nearby Garde Nationale headquarters. There the former colonel assumed direct command of the remaining loyal forces, along with colonels Ely Ould Mohammed Vall and Mohamed Ould Abdel Aziz, personally driving his vehicle towards the advancing tanks to gauge their number and capabilities. At the age of sixty-two, his twenty years as chief of state had clearly neither extinguished his intestinal fortitude nor dulled his martial prowess. Within hours he had formulated a plan of counterattack and enjoined loyal troops outside the capital to come to his aid.13 The coup leaders were unable to broadcast their message once they had taken the national radio,14 which had apparently been sabotaged by government forces.15 Once the television and radio were out of action, any chance of summoning reinforcements or building a following vanished. Mauritanians in the interior, notably the East, were completely unaware of the struggle in the capital. Most fatefully, the coup leaders neglected to bring rechargers for their cell phones, which wore down over the hours of fighting.16 Thus, for a precious few hours the fate of a nation lay with a handful of vengeful Arab nationalists, men plagued by antiquated arms and ideology, stymied by modernity’s tools. Their communications severed and unable to draw on reinforcements, their attack lost momentum17 and the first defections began. Insufficient in number, they fought mainly from their armored vehicles without infantry support. Though their lumbering T-55s were quite intimidating, they were also sweltering in the Mauritanian mid-summer heat, deafeningly loud, cramped, and offered limited visibility. The Baathist crews in their aging Soviet tanks – ironically a gift from Saddam Hussein in the late 1980s – were not entirely forbidding targets for the additional troops Taya had summoned and the anti-tank gunners of the Presidential security battalion, known by its French porte-manteau as BASEP. By Monday morning loyalist troops had converged from the east and the south to enter the capital and join the battle.18 Pinned down in their armored fighting vehicles and by now vastly outnumbered, the putschists were slowly mopped up, “tank by tank” in the words of President Taya,19 over the remaining day of grueling fighting. At 1230 on Monday, June 9, after thirty-six hours, fighting ceased. The battle lost, Hannena and roughly a half-dozen ringleaders escaped

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the capital and formed a dissident group, the Knights of Change (les Cavaliers du Changement), vowing to continue the struggle. The coup was unprecedented in its carnage. The burnt out shells of armored fighting vehicles littered the streets, eerie testaments to the fighting and unmistakable reminders of how closely the Taya system had come to falling. Nearly 150 are believed to have died in the 36 hours of fighting.20 Among the victims was Colonel Mohammed Lemine Ould Ndiaye, the popular Army Chief of Staff. Conflicting reports circled throughout Nouakchott, claiming that Colonel Ndiaye had sided with the coup participants and had been executed in reprisal, that he had died fighting on their behalf,21 or that he had been killed fighting the putschists outside his headquarters.22 The outcome was traumatic in any case for a country unaccustomed to bloodshed in its coups, and whose soldiers generally attempted to avoid violence to the extent possible.23 The Purges

As soon as the fighting had died down, the purges commenced. Two hundred soldiers were held in a prison on the outskirts of Nouakchott. The Supreme Court Chief Justice, the Under Secretary for Women’s Affairs, the mayor of Nouadhibou and the ruling PRDS party chief in Nouakchott were all arrested. Most were from the East, many were members of the Ouled Nasser, a large and powerful tribe, and several were related to Ould Hannena. Singling out the Ouled Nasser only further exacerbated the rift between the tribe and the Taya government and stifled any attempt at reconciliation. Several Islamist leaders, including Jemil Mansour, the head of the largest Islamist opposition movement and former mayor of Arafat, one of Nouakchott’s poorer neighborhoods, were imprisoned at the president’s behest. Islamists, Easterners and the Ouled Nasser were not alone in suffering from the purges. The highest ranks of the military were shuffled by the reassignment, dismissal or promotion of the heads of the Air Force, Navy, National Guard, Gendarmerie, military logistics, intelligence, and the presidential security battalion.24 The continuing search to punish those responsible poisoned diplomatic relations with neighboring countries judged to have sheltered the coup’s instigators. Taya accused Burkina Faso and Libya, which both had time-honored traditions of supporting dissident groups across the continent, of aiding escaped members of the newly formed Knights of Change. Libya had been hostile to Taya’s government ever since it had recognized Israel and expressed its antagonism by not condemning the coup. Burkina Faso was a staunch Libyan ally, and its capital

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Ouagadougou had long served as a haven for dissidents from across West Africa. Mauritania’s intelligence services claimed to have traced emails from Ould Hannena to three colonels arrested and charged with coup plotting to a Burkinabe server. Burkinabe president Blaise Compaoré, however, was indifferent to Nouakchott’s appeals and his government denied it had received any proof of Nouakchott’s claims. Compaoré’s adviser for Arab affairs, Mustafa Ould Limam Chaffi, was a Mauritanian dissident who had publicly proclaimed Taya “an agent of [Ariel] Sharon.” Taya drifted into an informal alliance against Compaoré that detracted from desperately needed attention domestically. Within Mauritania, revelations of new coup plots continued. On August 26, 2004 Lieutenant Colonel Mekhalla Ould Mohammed Cheikh confessed on national television to a planned takeover by militants from the Knights of Change and Touareg mercenaries in conjunction with mutinous garrisons within the country.25 Ideology in Mauritania and its Discontents

Numerous ideological waves have swept Mauritania since independence. Marxist and Nasserist movements in the 1960s and 1970s were followed by the Baathist and African nationalist blocs of the 1980s and Islamist groups since then. Their influence has been short-lived and residual, dependent in large part on the continuing support of foreign patrons. These passing ideologies can roughly be divided along universalist and divisive lines. Various forms of Arab nationalism, from Nasserism to Baathism, were largely secular and appealed mainly to the Bidan community. The 1970s saw the waning of Nasserism, with Baathism taking its place, transmitted in large part by the Iraqi and Syrian cultural centers, established in 1981 and 1982 respectively. Baathism waned after Saddam’s defeat in the Gulf War. AfroMauritanian nationalism gained little ground in Mauritania. Much of the FLAM’s activists were exiled, leading to a movement more influential within the diaspora than in Mauritania itself. Marxism theoretically had a more universal attraction with its appeal to the dispossessed, of which there were many in Mauritania and of every ethnicity. However, in a traditionalist and thoroughly Muslim society without an industrial base or a large class of landless peasants, Marxism, with its dialectical materialist core, had little resonance. Though the Marxist influences were clearly visible in the Mauritanian Kadihine Party and the 1968 strikes, that movement was limited largely to the mining center of Zouerate and the capital Nouakchott. By the 1980s when what could be considered a worker/peasant proletariat had

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coalesced,26 Marxism’s influence was on the wane, and consequently Marxists never made significant inroads. Islamism’s appeal is theoretically greater in the Islamic Republic of Mauritania, where all citizens are Muslim. But in its ubiquity Islam concedes little to Islamist politicians’ ambitions. Islam has suffused not only Moor but also black Mauritanian culture, and thus by virtue of their language and reference points all political figures hold a discourse marked by religion. Their adaptation to shifting winds through the adoption of Islamic reference has not facilitated matters for selfdescribed Islamists. Sharia, or Islamic law, had supplanted the French legal system by the 1980s. Article 5 of the July 12, 1991 constitution proclaimed Islam the religion of the people and the state, while Article 23 declared that the president must be a Muslim. Muslim iconography and allusions are omnipresent in national symbols, from the official seal to the national anthem’s lyrics. An Islamist political current with universalist pretensions had to either present a party line indistinguishable from others with few concrete proposals, or adopt more divisive rhetoric in order to distinguish itself from the flock of opposition groups. The Saudi government has spent large sums in Mauritania since the 1980’s trying to propagate their Wahhabist version of Islam, with limited success. In fact, Islamism has thus far had a limited appeal to most Mauritanians, whose Malekite Sunni Islam is suffused with Sufism and both mystical and temperate in nature. The influence of Sufi brotherhoods in Mauritania also serves to marginalize Islamism. Mauritanians’ rejection of ideologies, Islamism and its predecessors, owes much to their fundamentally pragmatic character. Indeed, one Mauritanian political commentator likened Mauritanians to Americans, arguing that both were commercially oriented peoples and both more concerned with questions of dollars and economic sense rather than with abstract political constructs.27 In his view, the allocation of state resources was their primary concern, and opposition to the ubiquitous corruption that permeated Mauritanian government resonates more than ideological concerns. Paradoxically, Islamism’s survival can also be ascribed to its repression at the hands of the autocratic Taya government. This repression tempered the movement’s activists and their plight earned them considerable capital in sympathy, grounding their support in solidarity with their fate at the hands of an unpopular ruler rather than in a platform that could be critiqued or appropriated by other parties. Their opposition to many of the common practices of the Taya regime largely eclipsed their theology in the view of the public, especially when

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mainstream parties appeared compromised by their dealings with his government or by their purely tribal bases of support. Their practices, namely the intertwined corruption, nepotism and tribalism, together with Taya’s rule by fiat, proved a godsend to the Islamists, who could draw on their dissident credentials to wage a campaign on a uniquely Islamist platform of moral rectitude. Flawed Elections

Authority in the Mauritanian public’s eye eludes ready quantification. As a political survivor whose rule had lasted nearly twenty years, Taya had built up a hard-earned aura of imperviousness to the caprices of fortune. His escape from coup attempts and plots, his personal presence at times of adversity, and his uncanny ability to survive seemingly fatal political reversals contributed to belief in his possessing the baraka, the gift of spiritual power and wisdom. The aftermath of the 2003 coup shattered this mystique at a critical juncture. This was not the inevitable result of the coup. Initially his calm demeanor and quick thinking in responding to the coup attempt, and his steadfast aplomb in defeating its perpetrators, appeared to have won him some grudging respect. Indeed, in the wake of the failed putsch Taya appeared to have been strengthened, both on account of his personal fortitude and the universal revolt among the public at the loss of life ensuing from tank battles in the heart of the capital.28 It was Taya’s reaction in the following weeks and months that eroded what support remained. The third presidential election following the 1991 democratic constitution had already been set for autumn 2003. Given the events of that summer, the election constituted a potential turning point for Taya. Completing the general success of the 2001 National Assembly elections and contrasting his campaign to the violent coup a few months before, he had the opportunity to regain legitimacy and further the faltering democratic process begun a dozen years before, all the while retaining his hold on the presidential palace for another six-year term. His reflexive oppression, part of a continuum stemming from his reactions to that summer’s coup, cost him this crucial opportunity. That November’s election initially held much promise. Five opposition candidates contested the first round of elections, including Messaoud Ould Boulkheir, who became the first Haratine to seek the presidency, and Aicha Mint Jeddane, who may have become the first woman to run for president in the Arab world.29 Former military ruler Mohammed Khouna Ould Haidallah emerged as the strongest candidate, gathering a loose coalition of Taya’s opponents, including Islamists and

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various Arab Nationalist currents, among them Baathists.30 But as the second round campaigning wore on, the election’s outcome appeared too uncertain for Taya, who would not brook the slightest risk of losing to the mentor he had overthrown in December 1984. Sensing that Haidallah might actually defeat him, he announced that a coup plot planned by Haidallah’s entourage had been discovered and ordered the candidate arrested on the eve of the election. The political class universally condemned an election rife with fraud and intimidation. The former coup leader turned politician found himself in Taya’s jails, along with his two sons, for the second time. The Trial

Haidallah, a recently-captured Ould Hannena, several Islamist opposition leaders and some 131 soldiers were put on trial for their alleged roles in the coup. Yet as the judicial process unfolfed Taya’s rule was soon tried in their stead. By implicating his political opponents in the coup, from the main opposition candidate to Islamist politicians, the government had transparently used the pretext of security to attack the entire spectrum of the opposition. Hence, on the charges that Taya was manipulating threats to national security so as to silence legitimate dissenters, the president lost in the court of public opinion. The court’s verdict completed the delegitimation of his political system. From its commencement in November 2004 the tribunal itself had been called into question. The venue was the small desert town of Wad Naga, some thirty miles east of Nouakchott. The courtroom had been built expressly for the trial and the tribunal held outside the capital ostensibly for security reasons, but equally so as to minimize its effect on the public. Three of the five judges were civilian magistrates; the two others were military officers.31 The public viewed them as bureaucrats beholden to state masters, adding elements of the Kafkaesque to an already controversial trial and compromising the impartiality of any judgment issued by the court. On the very first day of the trial, the court’s president promptly accused defense attorney Sidi Mohammed Ould Maham of “insolence” and had him arrested. According to the AFP, the lawyer’s offending statement reportedly was the request that the judge “take seriously this solemn audience as human lives are at stake.” The remaining sixty attorneys went on strike, only to be immediately replaced by two defenders who themselves were not lawyers.32 When the four officers charged with planning three failed coups were given life sentences, including Ould Hannena, applause erupted

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throughout the courtroom. They had faced the death penalty. Ould Hannena pleaded guilty to all charges, defiantly proclaiming that he had acted for the national good. Haidallah and two other opposition leaders were acquitted on charges of funding the coups. Accomplices in the coup were handed sentences ranging from eighteen months to fifteen years.33 The prisoners’ sentencing came shortly before the visit of Israeli Foreign Minister Sylvan Shalom, which prompted demonstrations at the University of Nouakchott and condemnations from the opposition.34 Student groups such as the “Initiative against Zionist Infiltration in Mauritania” and the “National Pact for the Defense of Palestine and Iraq,” like many others in campuses far removed from Mauritania, denounced the visit from the hotbed of the university with the support of opposition parties. The decision to recognize Israel and conduct diplomatic relations at the ambassadorial level was universally unpopular but exemplary of Taya’s leadership style. With such a paternalistic style Taya firmly believed he was bringing Mauritania into the new century, by force if necessary. It was one that could be forgiven only in exchange for clear successes and constituted a luxury of autocratic rule he could no longer afford. From a realist perspective recognizing Israel had done much to solidify Nouakchott’s relations with the West. 35 Taya’s relationship with Washington was stronger than ever. Mauritania was one of the beneficiaries of the $500 million Trans-Sahel Counterterrorism Initiative (TSCTI), which trained and equipped troops from Sahelian nations for counter-terror missions. Taya sensed that he finally had a strong foreign patron to provide the military support he needed to confront what was only another challenging period of internal instability in his twenty years of rule. Prosperity also appeared just around the corner, with estimates in 2004 that oil would begin flowing by the end of 2005 and some $150 to $250 million would flow into the state’s coffers by 2006. In anticipation Nouakchott was undergoing a boom, as new hotels sprouted for foreign businessmen, SUVs proliferated, and immigrants from across West Africa flocked to the city, which sprawled into the surrounding dunes.36 The Beginning of the End

The boom proved to be a mirage. Scourges ranging from chronic malnutrition to preventable diseases due to poor sanitation, such as cholera, continued to ravage the urban poor,37 for whom the suddenly visible prosperity manifested an oppressively unavoidable reminder of

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their state. A locust infestation devastated Mauritania in the autumn of 2004, harming the most vulnerable in the countryside but also urbanites who had taken their livestock to the cities and depended upon their few animals for meals and as their sole investments.38 Respectable economic growth did not translate into concrete improvements in living standards. 2005 per capita Gross National Income was only $580. Mauritania’s GDP that year was $1.8 billion – and its total debt some $2.28 billion. Considerable population growth undercut strong GDP increases; GDP per capita growth was only 2.4%, and in a nation where the official unemployment rate was 20% the labor force was growing at 3.0% ever year.39 Despite its imminent oil revenue, in mid-2005 the World Bank cited Mauritania as one of the countries that risked failing in its development goals. The funding was there. Five projects worth $150 million were in preparation and a dozen projects valued at $620 million ongoing. The failure was in insufficient human resources.40 Throughout his rule Taya had invested heavily in grandiose “white elephant” projects that frequently went over budget and were prone to embezzlement,41 disregarding the development of human capital. Though much went into grand projects, infrastructure remained deficient and lagged behind population growth. In June 2005 Taya’s minister of petroleum, Zeïdane Ould Hmaida, would confess that only 20% of citizens had access to electricity, which he promised to increase to 32% by 2010. Ould Hmaida promised some 1,500 jobs for Mauritanians and training opportunities in the same time frame.42 Few remained so patient: the rapid succession of disappointments was proving too much for the populace. Many found it more difficult to cope with continuous deceptions than with the endemic poverty of their condition. The promise of impending oil revenue from some 75,000 barrels per day was overdue yet again deferred, and the contrast between the El Dorado many had allowed themselves to imagine was their future and the stark realities of their situation was overpowering. The Attack on Lemreighty

Amid widespread discontent on political and economic grounds, Mauritania was struck by terrorism. On June 4, 2005 some 150 Islamist militants from the Salafist Group for Preaching and Combat, known by its French initials as the GSPC, attacked a remote Mauritanian Army garrison in Lemreighty, killing fifteen of its fifty soldiers.43 The attack constituted a new humiliation for Taya, one he took personally and vowed to avenge. More ominous than the attack itself was the paranoia that subsequently overtook the president. Never a trusting or confiding

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leader, he came to see coup plots everywhere, and to suspect the loyalty of many within his military. Mauritania’s ruler knew that at any given time, a contingency plan for a coup was in place within some factions in the military.44 His paranoia manifested itself in impromptu nighttime exercises under the president’s personal command to test his Army’s latest American night vision equipment and their fighting skills.45 This insatiable desire for vengeance alienated the military. Subsequently Taya engaged the best units of his military in a futile search for the assailants, sending some of his forces as far away as Niger. The mission was hopeless from the beginning, as the attackers had long since scattered, as his advisors and the troops themselves were well aware. The Sahara had always constituted a smuggling ground precisely because of the ease with which small bands were able to recede into the vastness of the desert. According to one specialist, “Taya had sent a thousand of his best men into the desert to do battle with ghosts,”46 turning them against him. His suspicions, though, were altogether well founded. The military had never been alacritous in fulfilling its fundamental role, and resented the campaign their commander in chief had forced upon them in addition to his unconcealed scorn for their abilities.47 And his intuition that the military elite he had created was more concerned with its financial interests than with the difficult business of fighting and winning a war was equally astute. Distrusting his closest confidants, he isolated himself further still.48 A pact ensuring the interests of the authoritarian rulers came into existence, if rumors of a coup from the pinnacle of the security establishment were to be believed. Following the September 2004 coup attempt an Army captain loyal to Major Ould Hannena was taken into custody near the southern border town of Rosso. The putschist confessed to the newly appointed head of military intelligence of the existence of a dossier naming four of the most highly placed officers as coup plotters. The prisoner named Colonels Ely Ould Mohammed Vall, head of the Sûreté Nationale, Mohammed Ould Abdel Aziz, head of BASEP, Abderahmane Ould Boubacar, a career artilleryman, and Mohammed Ould Ghazwani, the director of military intelligence himself. The dossier was considered a forgery and dismissed by the usually mistrustful Taya, who turned down options presented to him for neutralizing the threat posed by the officers.49 The dossier was to prove prophetic.

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The Impasse

The need for change was unmistakably in the air during the scorching summer of 2005. On August 1, the Nouakchott news daily La Tribune published several blistering articles that articulated in detail the grievances and disappointments that pervaded the full spectrum of Mauritanian society. Editor Mohammed Ould Oumère cited “a war that went unnamed” that he judged a “punitive expedition against an undetectable adversary, almost unidentified and that in addition is on foreign soil.” Worse, the country had gone on the warpath “while continuing to live in the promise of eternal stability.” “In Nouakchott, nothing indicates that these threats exist … [and] we continue to live as if nothing was happening.” … “Ministers who have done practically nothing all year, or who have just done work that earned them commissions … are on vacations … that take the form of a break in their predatory lifestyles.”50

According to this account, Mauritania’s woes were not attributable to its lack of funds, but rather too much in the wrong hands, that is to say in those of its cabinet ministers. Yet the blame lay also at the feet of an entire “country that lives in the illusion that the oil miracle will resolve all its problems.” This newfound panacea, however, generated its own problems, ranging from rent and price increases and uncontrolled immigration to struggles between oligarchs and the constitution of private militias under the auspices of private security companies.51 Wrenching urban poverty was manifest, even to those who did not care to venture into Nouakchott’s vast slums, for shacks and tents sprawled juxtaposed with villas even in Nouakchott’s wealthiest neighborhoods. In rural areas, however, conditions were worse still. According to a government survey, in 2000 some 70% of rural Mauritanians lived below the poverty line: that is to say they eked out survival on less than a dollar a day. In some areas, such as Guidimakha and the Hodho, the figure was 80%. To these stunning figures the rate of city-dwellers living at the poverty line, which hovered between 20% and 30%, compared favorably. Absolute poverty was evaluated at between 46% and 57% of the population. What rendered these figures most worrisome were the growing income disparities. In 2003, the wealthiest 20% of Mauritanians possessed 44.1% of the country’s wealth, whereas the poorest quintile only owned 6.4%.52 Fundamentally, however, the journalist attributed the country’s impasse to the failure of the political status quo after the ephemeral

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hopes of 2001. Oumère blamed the ruling PRDS for undermining institutions and in essence discrediting the political process as a whole. At the helm, a sixty-four year-old Taya showed no sign of relinquishing power or even of having considered a successor. As for the military, its promises of bringing justice, peace and democracy had come to naught. Twenty-seven years later, corruption was more entrenched than ever, Mauritania was again engaged in a war, and democracy was a utopian ideal. In sum, the Taya system in its entirety was to blame for the country’s ills.53 These sentiments were prevalent, and the freedom of expression to publish such scathing critiques existed so long as they were not acted upon. Popular discontent combined with civil society and the press had generated little impetus in demanding accountability and change. Indeed, fourteen years after the commencement of the democratization process, Mauritania’s transition was not advancing according to theory. In his recent study of the military’s role in the political development of Algeria, Egypt, and Turkey, Steven A. Cook refers to two generally accepted conditions that preceded transitions. The first was the appearance of “cracks within the regime that sent a signal to society to organize.” The second is the formation of accords that safeguard the interests of former authoritarian rulers. Both conditions pertained to Mauritania in the summer of 2005. The regime’s façade had clearly fissured in the aftermath of the June 2003 coup attempt and subsequent coup plots. Yet such cracks had not engendered successful organization against the regime. Granted, the entirety of the Islamist opposition had been imprisoned and the rest intimidated. Civil society could not mount a significant threat to Taya’s regime, as it was incapable of mobilizing sufficient resources to present a challenge to the ruler. In this regard, however, Mauritania’s civil society was not alone among North African countries. Steven Cook cites several instances where, rather than effectively challenging the regime in power, civil society supported the security state, notably civil society organizations’ support for the Algerian government’s 1992 nullification of a democratic election won by Islamists and the collusion between trade unions and the state in Tunisia and Egypt. Drawing from Antonio Gramsci’s theories as articulated in his Prison Notebooks, Cook notes that civil society can instead function as an “outer perimeter of defense for a hegemonic state” that refuses “to be willfully disarmed.” By collaborating with governments, civil society adds a façade of legitimacy to oppressive regimes.54 In the same vein, in mid-2005, Taya’s government recognized the country’s three main civil society groups, SOS Esclaves,55 the

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Mauritanian Association for the Defense of Human Rights (AMDH) and the Research and Study Group for Economic and Social Development (GERDES),56 only from a position of strength and with the intent of consolidating its claim to democratic legitimacy the previous elections had shattered. The same could be said for Mauritanian business interests, which like those in other Arab countries remained dependent on the regime. Hence the twin pillars of democratization, civil society and the entrepreneurial class, were either too weak to play their roles or had been domesticated by the very regime many democratization theorists argue they would seek to replace.57 Instead of supporting civil society groups, Cook argues that the European Union’s approach of providing incentives to Turkey, namely EU membership, in exchange for the gradual subordination of its military to democratic rule and its removal from politics is likely a far more effective strategy.58 Introducing conditionality to aid would oblige states to comply or forfeit desperately needed resources. Such an approach, according to Cook, was instrumental first in the decision of Ukraine to surrender its Soviet-era nuclear warheads and later by Libya to surrender its weapons of mass destruction program, he argues.59 In Mauritania’s case, neither the US nor the EU was attaching robust conditions to their criteria for disbursing aid. Brussels retained equities susceptible to counter pressure, including fishing rights and staunching the flow of illegal immigrants transiting through Mauritania towards the Canary Islands. After the Lemreighty attacks Washington was more concerned than ever about Islamist terrorists operating in the strategic voids of the Sahara. Dysfunctional Civil-Military Relations

As alleged coup plots succeeded one another with abandon, the military was steadily seeing its place in society crumble, sapped by gathering anti-military sentiment. Though Mauritania has a long military tradition and a distinct warrior caste, Mauritanian soldiers in the immediate postindependence era were mostly veterans of the French colonial military. Native-born troops had been vital to the conquest of the country and had served in France’s defense in both world wars, and on the eve of independence many Mauritanian troops were veterans of other colonial wars, from Indochina to Algeria. As such they were indelibly linked to Paris, which continued to pay pensions to veterans who had opted to transfer to the Mauritanian military. The colonial era military had left decidedly hostile memories, and this colonial legacy did not always endear its heirs to Mauritanians in the heady days that followed

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independence. Thus the military’s image in society from the early 1960s to 1978 was generally a negative one.60 Deeper social considerations were also at hand. Due to the prevailing ideology shaped by the marabout tribes, military careers were not well regarded traditionally and were reserved for young men from warrior tribes and those who had failed in their studies.61 Furthermore, the Mauritanian military continued to be heavily dependent on France for equipment and training, which under the terms of the Complementary Agreement on Raw Materials and Strategic Elements was provided in exchange for granting Paris priority in the sale of hydrocarbons. French troops remained well past independence and departed only in 1966, leaving a minuscule Army of 900 men and a fledgling Air Force of 100. The continued dependence on France, which was allocated a monopoly in the supply of training and equipment, did little to remove the colonial stigma. In more practical terms, the military, due to its relatively small size during the 1960s and early 1970s, offered its recruits stability and respectable pay but little room for promotion. Despite Morocco’s irredentist claims to Mauritania, President Ould Daddah refused to draw from revenues derived from the country’s mineral wealth or to rely upon the 1962 conscription law62 to build a military of comparable size and capability to Mauritania’s neighbors. The conscious decision to limit the military’s manpower and budget was a deliberate policy on the part of Ould Daddah to minimize the military’s role in society and subordinate it to the civilian government. Civil-military relations under Ould Daddah were also characterized by the effort to tether the military to the ruling party, the PPM, in the quasisocialist “people’s army” concept. The PPM busied the military with civic action projects involving the training of technicians and the building of roads. By the beginning of the Saharan war in 1976 the armed forces still numbered only 3,000.63 The war in the Western Sahara induced a dramatic expansion of the military’s numbers from some 3,000 to between 18,000 and 30,000, a wartime footing, and the consequent increase in its budget. However, there was little public support for the war. For the first time recourse was made to conscription in significant numbers, which disproportionately affected black Mauritanians. Efforts to bring young Mauritanians into the fold through the National Civic Service’s program of military education and political indoctrination foundered completely.64 The rift between primarily black Mauritanian enlisted men and the largely Bidan officer corps widened, both groups equally demoralized by the war.

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The 1978 coup, whose primary purpose was to end the Saharan war, dramatically improved the military’s image. The honeymoon was shortlived. The years of rule by junta dispelled any illusions as the military institution appeared to be entirely self-interested. The prominence and political power arrogated by the CMSN conferred unprecedented prestige to the officer corps. Under the 1980s austerity measures the military budget was the only segment of the public sector not cut.65 Disillusionment among the intelligentsia with the military resulted by 198466 and was completed by Taya’s coup in December of that year. If the military was not loved, it was feared. Since the military had first taken power in 1978 three waves of coup-makers had succeeded one another. The first came from the Beni Hassan, warrior tribes that took social and psychological revenge on the political system through the coup and by humiliating and manipulating the civilian former ruling class. The second generation that rose in the 1980s counted Arab and Black nationalists, officers whose worldview was dominated by an ethnic, exclusionary vision, likened to fascism by some. Often these young men had standing orders to infiltrate the military and rise to power from their respective movements. The coup attempts they fomented, in 1987, 2003 and 2004, numbered the most spectacular and the only violent attempts. The third shied from politics, and seemed average in every respect. Among them was Mohamed Ould Abdel Aziz. Abdel Aziz differed from his peers not only in his supremely sensitive command at BASEP but in his personal firmness and seeming fearlessness, uncommon traits in an officer corps driven by loyalty and self-compromise, where rising to battalion command appeared impossible without implication in corruption. Amidst the June 2003 coup, he confided in one Nouakchott newspaper editor that he hoped Taya would be saved, but that “the dictator would change his practices.”67 The embodiment of the Beni Hassan warrior class, the military was fully aware of its shortcomings. Military governments had ruled Mauritania for the past twenty-seven years. Those years that had increased the nostalgic aura of the first years of independence in stark contrast to the visible shortcomings in every facet of Mauritanian public life under the military. Senior officers could look back at the past quarter-century and conclude that intervention in politics was progressively corroding the military, and that the corporate interest of the security forces as an institution was in jeopardy. Paradoxically, greater political power translated into a weaker military. Such a system elevated officers with little administrative experience into major decision-making roles. The most talented officers

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with training in the best command and staff colleges in the West and the Arab world could not convert their military leadership skills and roles to running the bureaucracy, even if they had the inclination. As one officer admitted, officers were ill-adapted to the difference between a military structure, based upon a clear chain of command and orders, and the less hierarchical and more consensus-based realm of politics and the Nouakchott bureaucracy.68 In the civilian bureaucracy military methods were counterproductive. They often displayed little differentiation between the concepts of power and command, and the very power placed in their hands corrupted their understanding of command, in turn undermining the military.69 The intrinsic instability of the Taya system resulted from the patronage system designed to appease the military, but which had instead corrupted it and engendered rationales and candidates for coups as innumerable as its discontents. Mauritania’s military in this respect differed little from others that had undergone a similar experience. As was the case two decades earlier in Argentina, Brazil and Chile, economic mismanagement and the repression of dissent discredited it in the public eye, while the military’s intervention in politics undercut its own cohesion. As with the armed forces of those three countries, the Mauritanian security establishment was inclined after a three-decade long failed experiment to find paths towards extricating itself from politics while protecting its equities.70 Power had proven a double-edged sword for the officer corps. If the military claimed to have entered politics in order to save the country, it clearly had to withdraw from politics in order to save itself. Motivations Behind the Perpetual Coup Plot

The motivations of Mauritanian coup plotters can readily be distinguished between the ideological and the personal. The leadership behind the June 2003 coup provided an example of both, as marginalized active duty and cashiered officers whose ideology varied markedly from the pro-Western stance of Taya fought to overthrow his regime. The place of ideological considerations among the motivations behind Mauritania’s endemic coup plotting therefore merits examination. First, it is difficult to identify a prevalent ideology within the Mauritanian military, unlike that of Turkey or Algeria, which see themselves as the bastions of nationalism and anti-Islamism. Within the defense forces two distinct families of ideological currents have been dominant: various forms of Arab nationalism and a more pro-Western

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stance. Among Arab nationalists a more Islamist-leaning current has come to prevail in opposition to older, more secular varieties. Those who studied in Arab states, mostly Algeria and Syria, were exposed to these beliefs and to an entirely different conception of the military’s role in society.71 However, it would be misleading to assume that officers educated in these countries automatically assumed these ideologies. Arab nationalism was opposed by a pro-Western orientation that saw itself as pragmatic and non-ideological. Officers who studied in America, France, and other European countries tended to favor the West more out of realist grounds; in the current geopolitical context they saw the West as the best source of aid, training, equipment and diplomatic support. Their introduction to concepts of a military subordinated to civilian rule was conducted through more than osmosis – in the case of American International Military Education and Training, or IMET, it was an obligatory component of the curriculum. Whether most officers internalized these notions is difficult to ascertain. Given that that the senior most officers had risen in exchange for their loyalty to the Taya system, the notion that they were in fact crypto-democrats who desired change for ideological reasons would appear convoluted. Less intangible were the pragmatic rationales behind a putsch. Irrespective of ideology, the Mauritanian military leadership’s grasp of politics was second to none, for the armed forces had always served as an internal defense force oriented to domestic rather than foreign threats. Along with an Army, Navy and Air Force, Mauritania’s Ministry of Defense included a fourth branch, the Gendarmerie Nationale, a paramilitary police force. As mentioned earlier, within the Army the dominant unit was the Presidential security battalion, BASEP. Together with the naval infantry battalion and a few smaller units, these forces constituted the elite of the armed forces and were dedicated to regime security, garrisoned in Nouakchott.72 Delegated to the Ministry of the Interior was the Sûreté Nationale, a national police force also organized on military lines, as well as the Garde Nationale, which served a similar purpose. Each of these forces had their own intelligence bureaus that focused on internal threats. Within these units existed parallel intelligence networks loyal to the commander. It was natural, therefore, that the heads of these units would be among highly knowledgeable of internal developments, politically astute, and thus the best informed of the country’s political impasse. Colonel Ely Ould Mohammed Vall had served as head of the Sûreté Nationale for nearly two decades under Taya. Colonel Abdel Aziz had commanded BASEP and was Taya’s most trusted commander.

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Corruption and Discontent Within the Ranks

Within the military and security services growing social rifts tested the loyalty of subalterns, particularly company grade officers. Ethnic discrimination had long rankled Afro-Mauritanians and Haratines, who could not help seeing the largely black composition of enlisted men and the largely Bidan officer corps. Granted, enlisted life gave those with dew prospects a degree of financial stability. The military officially claimed to be colorblind.73 Yet the subservient role of Haratine troops to Bidan officers jarred outside observers who saw in it vestiges of their enthrallment and the exemplification of inequality within Mauritanian society. In addition, the constant risk of coups ensured that the best units were dedicated to regime security, and hence their composition was decided largely by tribal rather than professional considerations. This was a tragically self-fulfilling prophecy, however, for it stifled the careers of soldiers who believed they deserved promotion and generated the very discontent that fostered the rebellions it aimed to check. The selection of officers belonging to the Central and Northern tribes rather than the Eastern Bidan tribes had much influence in the aftermath of the June 2003 and subsequent two coup attempts. Yet screening officers for loyalty rather than competence was almost inevitable given the motivations that drew many to enlist. Those whose political conscience was formed in the post 1978 era often saw the military not as an instrument of national defense but as a ladder to political power and its perquisites.74 And the minimal qualifications needed to be granted an officer’s commission – simply passing the national secondary school examination or Baccalaureate instead of the bachelor’s degree required by most militaries – increased the allure of a military career to the ambitious but under-educated. These tensions were complemented within the officer corps by issues of pay. By the end of Taya’s reign senior officers were only paid 100,000 to 150,000 Ouguiyas per month, some $400 to $600.75 While this figure exceeded that paid to directors in civilian ministries, it was far surpassed by the vast sums Taya cronies embezzled. Given inflation and the obligations placed on the heads of households, and wage earners in general, by the Mauritanian extended family, officers could not hope to maintain a socially acceptable standard of living based on their salaries alone. Many who had joined when the uniform promised financial security and prestige were particularly hard-hit by the rising costs of living and shifting prestige accorded to businesspeople during the boom of the early 2000s. Most infuriating, however, was the

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conspicuous consumption of those who worked within the government and availed themselves of state funds.76 The result was endemic corruption at all ranks, spurred largely by the patent corruption on the part of many of the highest-ranking officers. In addition to the manifold effects of corruption, the insufficiency of pay created class differences based on those who were corrupt, and among the corrupt between those who had the greatest means to extract rents. Rank, the foundation of any military structure, became a divisive factor, for the scramble to translate rank into rent introduced competition within the ranks that subalterns could only lose, along with their respect for their superiors. The chain of command failures during the June 2003 coup illustrated the disjuncture between self-interested commanders and their troops.77 Branch and service also became a dividing line, as those stationed in populated areas with authority over the populace and those with access to funds benefiting to the detriment of those who did not. The rational choice for any volunteer, officer or enlisted, was to join the military or paramilitary police forces, the Gendarmerie Sûreté Nationale, or Garde Nationale, while avoiding service in regular Army units at all costs. Inter-service tensions festered, sometimes violently so, as in spring, 2005, when troops from the Army surrounded the Dar Naïm II police station where one of their own had been sequestered.78 There could be little surprise, therefore, if few soldiers volunteered for hardship assignments to the sparsely populated northern expanses to combat the GSPC and smugglers. Nor could accusations that the military was behind much of the booming Trans-Saharan smuggling trade elicit much surprise in Nouakchott. Such internal rifts devastated the professionalism of the force by systematically penalizing those who were honest and those whose assignments were military in nature. The Military’s Predicament

As the morale of Mauritania’s defense forces reached its nadir, its security establishment found itself in a seemingly inextricable quandary. These officers had the most conservative of concerns, for they owed their very fortunes to the regime in place. Many had risen from middling backgrounds to affluence by using the security apparatus at their disposal. Few were more emblematic of this military elite than Colonel Vall himself, who had risen from relatively humble origins. Colonels Vall and Abdel Aziz had indirectly benefited from the June 2003 coup attempt. During the most difficult hours of his presidency they had hunkered down with Taya in his impromptu command post and

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coordinated his counterattack when other commanders had deserted him. Subsequently they were rewarded. But though they were his most trusted lieutenants their loyalty to the president could just as easily be seen through the lens of self-preservation. The military was so preoccupied by its business interests that traditional concerns of warfighting fell by the wayside, and senior officers acted more as business leaders than warriors. As military officers made their way into the business arena, they progressively gained material interests they were loath to sacrifice. The concern induced by the accountability that exists in a bureaucratic system was replaced by the new businessmen’s constant concern for their assets. This was far from a novel phenomenon. Neighboring African countries had also experienced such praetorianism, as militaries tailored solely to internal security took an increasing role in domestic politics and used their superiority in firepower to become hegemonic rentseeking institutions. This change provoked a major transformation in psyche. The senior-most leadership were no longer solely military professionals with a vested corporate interest in the power and prominence of that institution. While their business interests induced them to continue the spoils system, one that sapped the military’s professionalism as it provided for their prosperity, it also sensitized them to the grave risk this system posed to those very interests. Any revolution aiming for a clean sweep of the Taya system could not help but target its pillars. As key establishment figures, Vall, Abdel Aziz, and over a dozen other officers had everything to lose. Among Ould Hannena’s first acts was to send his men in search of Taya’s key supporters.79 Vall and Abdel Aziz in particular knew they would figure prominently on the list of those to be purged. At the same time, the very tenability of this system was increasingly in doubt as its other pillars crumbled, leaving the security establishment alone and solely responsible for the regime’s continued survival. By the summer of 2005 the military elite had reached four compelling conclusions. Taya’s hold on power was slipping, along with his grasp of political reality. Discontent was at its peak among the public but also, for the first time, within the military’s ranks, where the loyalty of the subaltern ranks was increasingly strained and higher authority questioned. Thus far, coups had been squashed, and the culprits largely rounded up quickly. Mauritania had been fortunate enough not to know extended periods of civil strife, unlike other West African nations or Algeria. The events of 1989 were a noteworthy but luckily short-lived exception. With its ongoing civil war, however, another Sahelian country, Chad, offered a clear precautionary lesson as to the

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consequences of an insurrection by vying factions within the military. Lastly, in a system rapidly spiraling out of control, the colonels could no longer be certain that their personal connection would prevent the increasingly paranoid Taya from purging them. Such was the seemingly inextricable bind within which the military leadership found itself in August of 2005. The military’s senior ranks owed all to Taya but increasingly saw him as a dangerous megalomaniac and a dreamer whose means never fulfilled his burgeoning ambitions.80 The dangers of failure in the attempt to overthrow the regime that had cultivated and enriched them were patent. Yet a successful coup was inevitable, and they knew that “either they led the coup or the coup would be led against them.”81 Colonel Vall knew of two coup plots in preparation and realized he had to act quickly. So as to remain the same, things had to change. On August 1, 2005, King Fahd of Saudi Arabia passed away in Riyadh. Nouakchott’s relations with the House of Saud had been strained recently. Touring the far eastern city of Néma at the time, Taya was advised to attend the funeral, supposedly in hopes of renewing ties with the Kingdom. Such an approach had been successful in reinvigorating relations with the Kingdom of Morocco after King Hassan II had died in July 1999, sealed by the reciprocal visit of King Hassan’s son and successor, Mohammed VI.82 Before departing the president entrusted three officers with the security of the Sixth Military Region, Nouakchott. Colonels Abderrhamane Ould Boubacar, Deputy Chief of the General Staff, Mohammed Ould Abdel Aziz, BASEP commander, and Mohammed Ould Znagui, commander of the Sixth Military Region, had all proven their loyalty to Taya beyond reproach.83

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1 Soudan, François, Les secrets d’un putsch manqué, Jeune Afrique, July 29, 2003. 2 Soudan, François, Le 11 septembre de Nouakchott, Jeune Afrique, June 15, 2003. 3 Interview (#13) with a Mauritanian political commentator, December 2007. 4 Soudan, François, op.cit., July 29, 2003. 5 Soudan, François, op.cit., June 15, 2003. 6 Soudan, François, op.cit., July 29, 2003. 7 Soudan, François, op.cit., June 15, 2003. 8 Soudan, François, op.cit., July 29, 2003. 9 Interview (#3), Mohammed Fall Ould Oumère, Editor of the Nouakchott journal La Tribune, December 2007. 10 Soudan, François, op.cit., June 15, 2003. 11 Soudan, François, op.cit., July 29, 2003. 12 Ibid. 13 Ibid. 14 Interview (#13) with a Mauritanian political commentator, December 2007. 15 Soudan, François, op.cit., July 29, 2003. 16 Interview (#13) with a Mauritanian political commentator, December 2007. 17 Ibid. 18 Soudan, François, op.cit., June 15, 2003. 19 BBC News, Mauritania ‘foils’ coup attempt, June 9, 2003, retrieved February 18, 2008. 20 BBC News, Mauritania’s power struggles, August 3, 2005, retrieved February 18, 2008. 21 Interview (#13) with a Mauritanian political commentator, December 2007. 22 Soudan, François, op.cit., June 15, 2003. 23 Interview (#9) with a senior Mauritanian officer, December 2007. 24 Soudan, François, op.cit., July 29, 2003. 25 Soudan, François, Qui a voulu renverser Taya?, Jeune Afrique, September 5, 2004, retrieved February 22, 2008. 26 Marchesin, Philippe, Tribus, ethnies et pouvoir en Mauritanie, Karthala, 1992, pg. 252 27 Interview (#13) with a Mauritanian political commentator, December, 2007. 28 Soudan, François, op.cit., June 15, 2003. 29 BBC News, Mauritania’s nomadic elections, November 6, 2003, retrieved February 18, 2008. 30 Sengupta, Somini, Mauritania’s Election Pits Staunch U.S. Ally against 5 Opponents, The New York Times, November 8, 2003, retrieved February 25, 2008. 31 Soudan, François, 181 putchistes face à leurs juges, Jeune Afrique, December 5, 2005, retrieved February 25, 2008. 32 BBC News, Strike hits Mauritania trial, November 23, 2005, retrieved February 18, 2008

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33 BBC News, Life for Mauritania coup plotters, February 3, 2005, retrieved February 18, 2008. 34 RFI, Mauritanie : Remous autour de la visite de Sylvan Shalom, May 3, 2005, retrieved February 18, 2008. 35 Soudan, François, Envers et contre tous ?, Jeune Afrique, May 8, 2005, retrieved February 25, 2008. 36 Soudan, François, L’ami américain, Jeune Afrique, March 7, 2005, retrieved February 22, 2008. 37 BBC News, Mauritania’s deadly grinding poverty, September 8, 2005, retrieved February 18, 2008. 38 Harter, Pascale, BBC News, Mauritania ‘on the brink of famine’, September 29, 2004, retrieved February 25, 2008. 39 The World Bank, Mauritania at a glance, September 28, 2007, retrieved February 26, 2008. 40 Gharbi, Samir, Mauritanie: les Objectifs du millénaire, Jeune Afrique, June 5, 2005, retrieved February 22, 2008. 41 Interview (#10) with Mauritanian National Human Rights Commissioner Mohammed Saïd Ould Hamody, December 2007. 42 Barrouhi, Abdel Aziz, « Priorité à la lutte contre la pauvreté », Jeune Afrique, June 12, 2005. 43 RFI, Attaque sanglante contre une base de l’armée, June 6, 2005, retrieved February 18, 2008. 44 Interview (#14) with a Mauritanian political observer, December 2007. 45 Ould Oumère, Mohammed Fall, La Tribune, Un an, déjà !, n. 314, August 3, 2006, pg. 5; and interview (#13) with a Mauritanian political commentator, December 2007. 46 Interview (#13) with a Mauritanian political commentator, December 2007. 47 Les raisons variées du putsch, Jeune Afrique, September 25, 2005, retrieved February 22, 2008 and interview (#13) with a Mauritanian political commentator, December 2007. 48 Interview (#13) with a Mauritanian political commentator, December 2007. 49 Mohammed Fall Ould Oumère, Un an, déjà!, n.314, August 3, 2006, La Tribune, pg. 7. 50 Ould Oumère, Mohammed Fall, Pistes de réflexion pour des vacances peu méritées, August 1, 2005, La Tribune, pg. 3. 51 Ibid, pg. 4. 52 Office National de Statistique, Enquête Permanente sur les Conditions de Vie des ménages (EPCV), 2004. 53 Ould Oumère, Mohammed Fall, op.cit., pg. 4. 54 Cook, Steven A., Ruling But Not Governing: The Military and Political Development in Egypt, Algeria, and Turkey, The Johns Hopkins University Press, 2007, pg. 7. 55 SOS Esclaves official website, retrieved March 26, 2010, http:// www.sosesclaves.org/Pagecentrale.htm. 56 Diallo, Bios, Fatimata Mbaye, Jeune Afrique, May 22, 2005, http:// www.jeuneafrique.com/article.php?idarticle=LIN22055fatimeyabma0, retrieved February 24, 2008.

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57 Again, quite salient parallels exist with North African states according to the analysis in Cook, Steven A., Op.cit, pg. 143. 58 Ibid, pg. 145. 59 Ibid, pg. 146. 60 Interview (#9) with a senior Mauritanian officer, December 2007. 61 Interview (#22) with Mohamed Fall Ould Oumère, June 2009. 62 Mauritania: A Country Study, Federal Research Division, 1990, pg. 169. 63 Ibid, pg. 167. 64 Ibid, 1990, pg. 167. 65 Ibid, 1990, pg. 172. 66 Interview (#9) with a senior Mauritanian officer, December 2007. 67 Interview (#22) with Mohamed Fall Ould Oumère, June 2009. 68 Interview (#9) with a senior Mauritanian officer, December 2007. 69 Ibid. 70 Cook, Steven A., Op.cit., pg. 141. 71 Interview (#9) with a senior Mauritanian officer, December 2007. 72 Interview (#13) with a Mauritanian political commentator, December 2007. 73 Interview (#9) with a senior Mauritanian officer, December 2007. 74 Interview (#13) with a Mauritanian political commentator, December 2007. 75 Interview (#9) with a senior Mauritanian officer, December 2007. 76 Ibid. 77 Soudan, François, op.cit., July 29, 2003. 78 Ould Oumère, Mohammed Fall, op.cit., pg. 3. 79 Soudan, François, op.cit., July 29, 2003. 80 Interview (#13) with a Mauritanian political commentator, December 2007. 81 Interview (#3) with Mohammed Fall Ould Oumère, Chief Editor of the Nouakchott journal La Tribune, December 2007. 82 BBB News, King’s historic visit to Mauritania, September 10, 2001, retrieved February 22, 2008. 83 Mohammed Fall Ould Oumère, Op.cit., August 3, 2006, La Tribune, pg. 5.

4 A Coup for Democracy?

Wednesday, August 3, 2005, began early for the men of the Presidential Security Battalion, or BASEP. Facing no resistance from other military formations stationed in the Sixth Military Region, the troops swiftly secured the presidential palace, the affluent and central Tevragh-Zeina neighborhood of Nouakchott, the National Radio and Television station, the airport, and axes of transportation in and around the capital. By dawn Nouakchott’s residents were alerted to the presence of soldiers in the streets. A surprising number were dismissive of their significance, however. In a masterful stroke, the coup’s instigators had propagated the rumor that the movement of troops within the capital came in response to an earlier, failed coup attempt. The ruse succeeded. Returning from Saudi King Fahd’s funeral, President Taya did not himself learn of the coup’s success until noon on August 3, Nouakchott time (GMT), by which time he found himself stranded in the Nigerien capital of Niamey. The coup had originally been planned for mid-August, when the president would be touring the Southeastern region and visiting its capital, Néma. Fortuitously for the coup-plotters, the president followed the advice of his aides and flew to attend King Fahd’s funeral services.1 Advanced by several days, the coup was nonetheless flawless both in its conception and execution. There was no bloodshed and the toppled ruler was powerless to react. Taya had diligently labored to create an ethnically loyal praetorian guard by filling BASEP ranks with recruits from his own Smassid and allied Terkez tribes. But the force at the heart of his security establishment proved the chief instrument of the coup. Only the ‘red berets’ of the commando battalion, who had proven so crucial in defending him from the armored onslaught of June 6-8, 2003, could have contended with BASEP. In his determination to defeat those behind the Lemreighty attack he had dispatched them to the farthest reaches of the Sahara.2 The demoralized and neglected regular military was lethargic in response; most of the regional commanders soon rallied to the coup.

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Ultimately only Colonel Sidi Ould Riha, the chief of the National Gendarmerie, refused to side with the coup leaders.3 Taya’s loyalists within the military and the ruling PRDS evaporated. Even among the Smassid business elite, his supposed ethnic constituency, none manifested opposition to the coup aside from several close relatives. The ruler’s own words immediately following the coup best articulate the disconnect between himself and his people. Arguing “[t]here was never a coup in Africa so foolish,” Taya asserted that his government “had done much more than one could have reasonably expected.” “Prospects were promising economically, socially, culturally”, he continued. “The country was run smoothly as a pluralist democracy.”4 The Taya system’s rout was abrupt and complete, betraying the fundamental hollowness of the leader’s entirely personalized rule. Taya had been described by one of the founders of modern Mauritanian journalism as the victim of a “pronounced persecution complex and [a] feeling of isolation.”5 His steadily increasing isolation was a vicious circle in which his admittedly justified suspicions prompted still greater isolation, which reinforced his unpopularity and thus his reliance on ever-smaller constituencies. In turn, his seclusion bred a psychosis of power that only further isolated him from the Mauritanian body politic and heightened his unpopularity. Always a withdrawn man, by the end of his reign Taya was said to be most comfortable watching Western films and indulging his singularly un-Islamic predilection for alcohol, his condition nearing its terminal stage.6 His fears were not entirely unjustified. A “fake democratization” reflected a strategy to maintain power through external support and his security services, compelling Taya constantly resort to ever-growing repression.7 Long bereft of popular legitimacy, the locus of his power resided in his personal ability to retain the loyality of his supporters by dispensing perquisites to them, while repressing his adversaries as a cautionary lesson. Once the senior military leadership concluded that their interests and his no longer aligned, their loyalty vanished, along with that of his rank-and-file supporters. At the headquarters of the ruling PRDS, anxious supporters and the central leadership agonized for three hours, as though expecting a directive that never came. Some, believing the rumors that the troops in the streets were responding to a failed coup, attempted to organize a march in support of Taya. By the time the PRDS had taken stock of the situation and issued a tepid statement at 2 p.m. on August 3, many supporters and most of the media had left. Thirty minutes later, the throng abandoned the headquarters in disarray. Within hours, numerous party apparatchiks and ministers were scrambling for any available

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media outlet to publicly announce their support for the new junta. In one emblematic instance a prominent Taya supporter, when informed of the coup, berated the bearers of the news. He then promptly decamped to the hinterland once the reports were confirmed, after publicly announcing his support for the new junta.8 All the president’s men had turned on him within twelve hours. Great Expectations and Inescapable Commitments

The reaction on the streets of Nouakchott to the news was one of utter elation. Thunderous convoys of automobiles caracoled down the capital’s thoroughfares, voicing their emphatic support for the coup with slogans, car horns, and photos of the junta’s leader, Colonel Ely Ould Mohamed Vall, previously a rather private figure.9 As news of the coup was broadcast on national radio similar celebrations erupted in the regional centers of all corners of the country, including the cities of Atar, Ayoun, Néma, and Rosso. These displays reflected jubilation that could not easily be dismissed as yet another example of Mauritanians’ adaptability to new regimes, but rather seemed to reflect, if not a genuine demand for democracy, at least an overwhelming demand for change. Mauritania’s new rulers distinguished themselves from most other juntas from the start. In the tersely worded statement that marked its first public declaration the junta revealed its prescience, having already calculated the likely responses to its coup and positioned itself accordingly. In its first public declaration the junta revealed that it fully understood and had adapted to operate under international donors’ new electoral norms: “[T]he Armed and Security Forces have decided upon the establishment of a Military Committee for Justice and Democracy. This Council commits itself before the Mauritanian people to creating the conditions favorable towards an open and transparent democratic course upon which civil society and political actors will pronounce themselves freely.”10

Most importantly, the CMJD distinguished itself by making a firm commitment to a predetermined timetable: “The Armed and Security Forces do not intend to exercise power beyond a two-year period judged indispensable for the preparation and execution of truly democratic institutions.”11

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Lastly, the CMJD sought to preempt foreign pressures by assuring allies such as France and the United States that it would preserve a considerable degree of continuity in practice with previous governments: “The Military Council for Justice and Democracy commits to respecting all the international treaties and conventions ratified by Mauritania.”12

The CMJD lost no time following its commitments with action. On Saturday, August 6, Vall met with over thirty opposition leaders, promising elections in two years’ time in which neither the junta’s members nor civilians serving in the transitional government would be candidates. With these assurances, especially the “revolutionary” and unparalleled assurance that the Council would remain neutral in the ensuing elections, the CMJD won the support of the Mauritanian populace and secured an interlude.13 The junta proceeded to consolidate that popular mandate by following these promises with undeniable changes.14 Though the CMJD dissolved the National Assembly, the junta promised to retain the 1991 constitution, though supplemented by a Military Council charter, and to maintain the Supreme Court and local government.15 They also promised to revise the constitution, in particular Article 104, which had been manipulated to constrain democracy. Following its adoption in 1991, the Mauritanian constitution had been eviscerated by the addition as a “transitional provision” of Article 104, which stated the confines within which civic rights would be permitted, together with other caveats intrinsic to Taya’s conception of democracy and human rights. Its changes, the CMJD assured, would be subject to a referendum. Other democratic changes to the governmental structure promised by the junta included the reduction of presidential terms from six to the five years prevalent elsewhere as well as the limitation to two terms, transparent elections monitored by international observers, and the creation of an independent national election commission (CENI) to direct those elections.16 The presence of international observers and a domestic independent election commission were crucial guarantees, as previous elections had been subverted through government funding of Trojan horse opposition parties and candidates that fractured the vote, combined with “massive irregularities.”17 Most noteworthy was the lack of vindictiveness manifested by the junta towards the ancien regime. After twenty-one years of exactions exceeded only by the corruption of the president’s entourage, the CMJD

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allowed Taya’s family and allies to leave the country and retain most of their assets. Within days the leader’s wife, Aïcha Mint Ahmed Tolba, was allowed to leave Nouakchott and join the overthrown ruler.18 Much was made of Taya’s “betrayal” by his closest lieutenants, without which a bloodless coup could not have succeeded. However, in his deteriorating state the strongman had become a threat to the very system he had created.19 As one politician commented, rather than betraying Taya, Vall served him well, allowing him, his family and his relatives to leave without accounting for their actions. Astute politicians quickly joined the CMJD, accepting to forget the past on the condition of not having to answer for their own actions.20 Self-interest among the military elite, who had prospered under Taya, played the critical role in explaining their decision. Further, Mauritania’s was a party-state system often compared to those of the former Eastern bloc: excluding former cadres would have been impossible.21 The highest echelons of Mauritanian society were so thoroughly compromised by two decades of Taya’s rule that to completely and impartially prosecute corruption would have excised much of Mauritania’s educated elite, while selective prosecutions might have been seen as arbitrary. Islamist political prisoners, apart from a handful of known Islamist radicals, were quickly released, securing the support of a large segment of the opposition, Islamist and otherwise. These opposition factions had long argued, as articulated by one of the recently released inmates, Islamist leader Mohamed Hassan Ould Dedew, that the Taya regime “accused all its opponents of extremism and terrorism.” They reacted to their release by expressing their desire under the transitional government “to participate in a democratic debate that banishes extremism and cultivates a culture of tolerance and openness.”22 Regardless of motivation, by shunning purges that could only generate internal strife the junta paved the way towards a smooth transition. Respected technocrats were appointed to a civilian transitional government, breaking with the precedent set by previous coups of assigning cabinet and sub-cabinet level positions to military officers.23 Colonel Vall chose as his prime minister a former head of the ruling PRDS and then Mauritanian Ambassador to France, Sidi Mohamed Ould Boubacar. Ould Boubacar had served for four years as Prime Minister under Taya in the early 1990s.24 Habib Ould Hemet, a noted technocrat, was named Minister and Secretary General of the Presidency, a position tailored to the oversight of the transition process. A graduate of the Mauritanian National School of Administration and French universities, noted for his erudition, tact and fluency in both classical Arabic and French, Ould Hemet25 would be challenged to make

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full use of those skills by October 2005, when the CMJD began the first of many “journées de concertation,” or days of public consultation. What was intended as a civic dialogue initiated during the last months of 2005 would become a staple of Mauritanian politics during the transition period. Mirroring the forums under Mali’s Ahmadou Toumani Touré rather than those under Haidallah, these meetings incorporated a maximum number of political actors in a debate over the reform of a decayed and autocratic political system. In a rare moment of their history, Mauritanians were given the chance to voice their opinions on issues and decisions that previous, paternalistic governments had long excluded them from. Transatlantic Dissonance and Democracy Promotion

Within a day of the coup, Vall summoned the American and French ambassadors and the EU representative for brief meetings reiterating the CMJD’s commitment to the Taya government’s engagements. Substantively, he reassured them that Nouakchott’s foreign policy orientation towards the West would not change and he committed to handing over power to a democratically elected government.26 Diplomatic ties with Israel were retained, despite widespread domestic opposition. The West’s initially negative reaction was easily foreseeable. Here again, however, the CMJD was prepared with responses, skillfully mollifying Mauritania’s donors and the international community. The US government was taken aback by the coup, which even the best informed sources did not realize was in progress until noon of that day.27 Having worked to maintain a strong relationship with Taya, Washington at first saw the leader’s removal as a setback, especially given Taya’s commitment to counterterrorism. But also at work was a strong policy against military coups, which normally triggered reflexive condemnation whatever the mitigating factors, followed by sanctions under Section 508 of the Foreign Operations Appropriations Act. The initial American stance towards the coup took several days to solidify. Within a day it had become apparent that the junta had nothing in common with the Baathist-Islamist putschists of June 2003. The fall-out from a mineral-rich Afro-Arab state being taken over by IslamoBaathists could not have been better scripted as a nightmarish scenario for Washington. That nightmare dispelled, US policymakers’ interest appeared to wane. Washington’s residual fears were not altogether irrational, however, even were it not for skepticism over the CMJD’s promises of democratic

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reform. Observers knew that Taya’s campaign against the GSPC was highly unpopular through the highest ranks of the military, not only because of the impracticality of his approach but because the senior military leadership lacked the gumption to wage war of any kind. A rot had set in within the military, driven by power and business interests that accompanied military rule and “transformed [officers] into business wheelers and dealers,”28 one which deadened any appetite within the military to pursue its traditional role of fighting and winning the nation’s wars. The August 2005 coup itself could be explained in large part by the desire to avoid war, particularly on the part of Abdel Aziz, who was to have left Nouakchott to assume a field command.29 Hence Washington was reticent to accept the CMJD’s takeover and its reassurances on maintaining a robust stance towards the GSPC. But the initial response to the coup was thoroughly unrealistic, as the State Department maintained its insistence that Taya be returned to power.30 A disconnect between Washington policymaking and realities on the ground persisted for some time afterwards.31 The junta proved deft in response, quickly appointing Mohamed Ould Sid’Ahmed, one of the principal actors behind the opening of diplomatic relations with Israel, as Foreign Minister.32 Confident that Taya’s foreign policy would be retained and that the CMJD had made sufficient guarantees, Washington fell in line behind the African Union and the European Union. From the beginning, the AU and EU were far more intimately involved in the post-coup transition process than the US, due not only to their less reflexive attitude towards coups but also their policy of proactive engagement. Within a week the AU had sent a delegation to Mauritania to enquire into the conditions behind the coup. The delegation interviewed numerous Mauritanians from across the political spectrum, and concluded that regardless of the legality of the change in power the populace largely supported the coup. With the largest aid program by far, the EU was to play a crucial role throughout the transition process, defining conditions for governmental and economic reform, securing the CMJD’s commitment to following them, and demanding that the junta abide by its promises. For its part the CMJD had little choice but to accept EU conditionalities over aid. If America saw itself eclipsed by the EU and the AU, this was largely voluntary. Washington appeared conent to engage in a complementary role to the EU and AU. Throughout the transition process the EU remained the most proactive in demanding accountability from the transitional government, while the US rendered its aid contingent on the fulfillment of those demands. Though it disbursed less aid than the Europeans, by adopting a more antagonistic

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line against the coup and adopting a policy of aid conditionality that followed the commitments defined and reviewed by the EU, Washington could claim to have contributed towards the transition process.33 Whether that self-anointed role of “bad cop” to the EU’s “good cop” served Washington’s interests is an entirely different question. In the context of a broader campaign to promote democracy within the Arab world, America’s role here was conspicuously modest throughout the transition period. Mauritania was far from the top of Washington’s priorities. Once the situation in Nouakchott was no longer a crisis and potential threat, senior policymakers became preoccupied with the next crisis du jour. Yet as the transition process continued and it became apparent that this intermittent stage bore genuine promise for democratization, America remained behind other foreign actors in supporting the process. In comparison to the millions expended by the EU, Japan, and the Gulf states, American aid, despite several projects funded by the US Agency for International Development (USAID) and the efforts of some one hundred Peace Corps volunteers, seemed to some Mauritanians disproportionately weighted towards military assistance.34 The ever-popular young volunteers did much to build good will. Their contribution, however, was overshadowed in press coverage, which highlighted the role of US Special Operations Forces providing training to Mauritanian soldiers in the scope of the 2005 Flintlock Exercises and the $500 million dollar cost of the TSCTI program. To those Mauritanians who looked favorably upon America and saw daily the incalculable price in blood and treasure Washington was expending in Iraq, as well as efforts to spread democracy in predominately Muslim lands from Lebanon to Tajikistan, the logic behind this apparent neglect was incomprehensible. “America went looking to build democracy in Iraq, of all places, when they could have found one ripe for the plucking right here” said one, who proceeded to express his disbelief that America had not trumpeted “the Arab world’s first democracy” at the time as a noteworthy success and accorded Mauritania commensurate backing.35 The role of major Western powers’ strategic interests in the advancement of democratic reform has long alienated many natural constituencies for democracy promotion. This brings some to find refuge in a form of cultural relativism, fearing democracy promotion to be part of a hegemonic design.36 Further, once certain Western strategic objectives are met democracy advocates fear abandonment. The best example remains Libya, where democracy promotion was forgotten as

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soon as the regime renounced its programs to acquire weapons of mass destruction in 2003.37 Globally, divergences between American and European approaches were most apparent precisely during this period in 2005. They owed much to what one European official dubbed the “messianic aspect” of democracy promotion under the Bush administration, which contrasted sharply with the “cynical, almost hard-boiled European attitude, where wearing one’s faith on one’s sleeves was not the norm.” For all their unsentimental pragmatism, those behind the EU’s policy-making still insist that “the motivations of democracy, human rights and prosperity are basically the underlying principles on which our relations with third countries are based.”38 Two core tenets underpin EU democracy promotion policy. The first is that of dialogue with authoritarian regimes. Though its detractors consider it a bureaucracy-driven policy of dialogue for dialogue’s sake, its defenders argue that contact of any kind, even cultural, offers a greater chance of influence than none at all,39 leading one official to conclude “we should always be talking.”40 This principle also extends to treaties. The EU sought to envelop third countries in a deceptively simple web of agreements and negotiations, with greater effects than often presumed. A European official linked such agreements to point VII of the Helsinki Accords, with its stipulations of respect for human rights and fundamental freedoms, which in turn led to the Charter 77 movement.41 Focusing on the accord’s support for territorial integrity and the inviolability of national borders, Moscow and the rest of the Eastern Bloc initially considered the agreement a major Cold War victory. Only too late did they realize the role that NGOs would play in monitoring compliance with guarantees of fundamental freedoms, and thus the slippery slope on which they had placed themselves in committing to political rights. Similarly, the EU’s logic holds that, in agreeing to conditionality, foreign partners made obligations that include the structures and the expectations for their fulfillment. The second tenet lies in the belief that the more discrete the diplomatic pressure, the greater its chances of success. Brussels has sought to bring pressure to bear on a subtle basis whenever possible, particularly through NGOs working discretely and shunning politics alongside local civil society. Its leverage has been strongest in cases where its partners engage with local EU representation for more assistance or access to the Common Market. European recognition of the power of conditionality in shaping norms has led to the increasing use of this tool in comparison to previous decades, when aid was offered on perhaps more idealistic grounds. “Now strings are attached,”42 a

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European official highlights. One consequence, however, is that a growing number of countries are turning away from EU aid towards China, for instance. Pressures for reform are conditioned by political realities on the ground.43 As one European official stated candidly, “the power of norm setting is in direct relation to what they want from you.” That power was diminished “when they can get aid from other sources that don’t place demands of conditionality.”44 The EU’s normative power existed to the extent to which Brussels could offer economic benefits. “As you get further away from the EU, from the European neighborhood to ACP [African, Carribean and Pacific] countries, our power of attraction decreases.”45 Differences between the US and the EU on democracy promotion should not come as a surprise, as the two entities’ interests certainly do not always align. The US generally and historically placed a higher priority on shorter-term measures towards advancing democracy. One expert noted that American administrations were of a more idealist outlook, focusing on elections and pushed for democratic breakthroughs in the near term. The EU has taken a longer-term position, focusing on economic development and strengthening institutions. While the US is more willing to support opposition parties in conflict with the government and civil society, Europeans tend to be wary of this more adversarial approach.46 Within the Arab world democracy promotion – and certainly regime change – appear nowhere within the EU’s lexicon. Brussels instead pushes for a reform agenda, linked with action plans agreed upon by its partners within the region.47 Formulating such policies were EU officials convinced that democratic reform in the Middle East would be a generational affair. In the words of one, “democracy has either been imposed, as in Iraq, or confused, as in Lebanon and Palestine.”48 Their convictions drew from the EU’s disappointing experience of decades of pressure within the Arab world’s two most reformist countries, Morocco and Jordan. There, the results had been unreservedly mixed, with a peculiar sort of reform undertaken by elites that refuse to surrender certain privileges.49 So long as ruling elites do not face the imperative of change from above, that is to say the promise of greater integration into the European and global economy, or below, namely a discontented population, demands for reform remain unanswered. With few remaining incentives to offer, the United States and the EU had reached the limits of top-down reform. Similarly, there had been little progress among Mauritania’s Maghrebi neighbors. “A Soviet-style state,” Algeria was “run by old

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men raised in the 1960s progressive movements” under the influence of the Soviet Union “who see no need to change or run things differently,” according to one official. 50 On the surface, Tunisia did not resemble a dictatorship, with its growing prosperity and alluring consumerist distractions. But the country remained firmly in the hands of Zine El Abidne Ben Ali, who trumped pressure to reform with the threat that should his government fall Tunisian Islamists might come to power. “Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t,” one European policy-maker explained.51 Most external observers had placed Mauritania’s coup within the same context and as part of a continuity in the country’s recent political history. They readily dismissed it as yet another example of the ills of personalized rule and military power: a step away from democratic governance rather than towards it. Some confidently dismissed the coup as driven by Mauritania’s new oil wealth.52 The regional media expressed skepticism, if not outright condemnation.53 But the commentators were soon left puzzled. Why did the junta overthrow one of their own? And why did they bind themselves to surrendering power to elected civilians? External Pressure, Changing Norms

It might be tempting to attribute the CMJD’s decision-making entirely to foreign pressure. Yet their communiqué promising far-reaching reforms was released so quickly that it could not have come directly in response to external pressures. Instead, it came as yet another component of the CMJD’s plan.54 This is not to say that foreign pressure did not play a significant role – quite the contrary. Rather, the CMJD had anticipated external pressure and planned accordingly. The CMJD’s officers were fully cognizant that theirs was an era in which coups leading to indefinite military rule were tolerated neither by the West nor by African leaders themselves. Norms had evolved dramatically within the subcontinent from the Cold War era, during which the rhetoric of sovereignty and solidarity among African governments prevailed, enshrined by the Organization of African Unity (OAU). By the late 1990s the same organization that had once elected Idi Amin as its chairman had undergone a dramatic change. OAU members’ universal condemnation of the May 1997 Sierra Leonean coup marked a defining moment. More significant was the willingness of several member states to accept casualties to back their words, using their peacekeepers to drive the putschists out and reinstate the democratically elected government under Ahmad Tejan Kabbah.

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Other regional groups followed. As fellow West African states and Mauritanian neighbors Mali and Senegal moved towards democracy, the Economic Community of West African States itself adopted several resolutions supporting this norm. Taya had responded by withdrawing Mauritania from the organization.55 By early 2000 the OAU had refused to seat the Ivorian government of putschist General Robert Guéï. The body’s ostracism contributed to the general’s delegitimation and started a process that would ultimately end with Guéï’s replacement by a civilian and violent death. When the African Union replaced the OAU in July 2002, the heads of state of all fifty-three member countries, irrespective of their domestic regimes, had already consecrated democracy and human rights by signing on to the AU’s July 2000 Constitutive Act, in Lomé, Togo. The Lomé declaration defined forms of unconstitutional regime change and listed the sanctions that would follow automatically, contingent upon a review process. The African Peer Review Mechanism evaluated countries periodically on criteria of democratic governance, development, and economic management.56 Thus by 2005 this new norm and its consequent sanctions were evident to all would-be putschists. Coming in the aftermath of Togolese strongman Fauré Gnassingbe’s taking power in the wake of his father’s death in Lomé, where the AU charter had been signed, and his dubious election,57 the AU had no choice but to react firmly to yet another coup. The AU immediately suspended Mauritania’s membership until Nouakchott’s “restoration of constitutional order,” dispatching a ministerial delegation to explain their decision.58 The CMJD promptly welcomed the AU delegation, however, and afforded them access to the fullest extent possible. As a result, both bodies quickly reached an understanding. Within less than a week of the coup, the AU gave Nouakchott’s new government its blessing, citing the peaceful conditions of the coup and the population’s near unanimous support.59 In a mutually beneficial arrangement, the AU found itself relieved from pressure to take substantive measures against a member state, risking its prestige in the process, and the CMJD emerged legitimated. Looking East

It might seem that the coup leaders were compelled to turn to democracy because both Mauritania and Africa in general had fundamentally changed. Coups were no longer seemed acceptable among the African family of nations, and beset with the twin curses of oil and terrorism,

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Mauritania was no longer an expendable expanse of desert. The military leadership accepted an honorable departure. The role of major donors such as the United States and Spain, which could not accept a coup without also accepting that a different clique of soldiers would one day come to power by the same means, was decisive.60 The salient question then is whether the colonels could conceivably have proceeded differently? Refuting the democratic determinism argument are the geopolitical situation and the worldwide wave of democratic setbacks. The junta could have endeavored to manipulate the Islamist threat to gain foreign backing, as Taya’s opponents contended he had done in his purges of Islamists,61 while erecting an elaborate façade of pseudo-democracy that placed Nouakchott on the threshold of civilian rule and undercut foreign criticism without depriving the military and security forces of power. Examples of regimes where the military insinuates itself in politics abound in the Muslim world, varying in extent and severity from Turkey to neighboring Algeria and not least Egypt. There is no reason to believe that individuals within the CMJD did not contemplate such an arrangement, or assume that they could exert influence during and even after the transition. Moreover, Mauritania’s oil, minerals and its rich fishing grounds enjoyed strong demand from an emergent new partner experiencing burgeoning needs in natural resources, namely China. Diplomatic relations between the two countries are strong and longstanding.62 Major Chinese-built landmarks that dot the Nouakchott landscape, from the Friendship National Stadium to the Friendship Port, testify to firm SinoMauritanian relations. Businessmen from mainland China were already active in Nouakchott in the wake of the oil boom. Iron ore alone in 2006 would constitute 40% of Mauritania’s exports, and the marked ascension of worldwide iron prices augured substantial further increases in revenue from the Zouerate mines. The prospects for Mauritania’s oil revenues could also inspire hope among Mauritania’s new rulers. For authoritarian elites the Chinese model is appealing, a perfect combination offering continued power and genuine economic progress for their countries. Allying itself with autocratic regimes from Sudan to Zimbabwe, Beijing pursued a policy of realpolitik that elevated its indifference to the domestic conduct of its allies to a pillar of its foreign policy – and a selling point among autocracies. In consequence, autocrats from Iran to Uzbekistan were embracing what Stanford scholar Abbas Milani describes as the “Asia look.”63 This was a geopolitical shift away from the perceived sanctimonious bromides and conditional aid of a “declining West,” led by America and their former European

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colonizers, towards ascendant powers such as China, whose promises of aid and trade came unattached to issues of democracy and human rights. Though a self-interested realignment on the part of ruling elites, this policy receives support among the middle classes due to two powerful tenets of a common worldview, one which complicates attempts at democratization. The first tenet is a widespread sense of injustice at the hands of a global system deemed to be rigged in favor of developed nations. This view is shaped by long-standing grievances at the hands of organizations considered to have rendered more harm than help, from the Bretton Woods institutions to Western aid agencies and NGOs. The perception that development efforts are aimed more at aiding certain segments of donors’ interest groups, from bureaucrats specializing in development to over-subsidized Western farmers, rather than the purported recipient of support, is prevalent among the Mauritanian intelligentsia educated in the West and familiar with its developmental organizations.64 The second tenet stems from an enduring third-worldist view grounded in anti-colonial struggles and then carried on by the NonAligned Movement founded in 1961 in Belgrade during colonialism’s long twilight. The accelerating pace of globalization and the failures of the Washington Consensus have given new life to this once moribund creed.65 Historical grievances, convincing permutations of dependency theory, the sheer incompetence of many who claimed to be helping the continent, and the eternal temptation to find scapegoats for failures form an intoxicating cocktail for dictators to serve to the body politic. Booming demand from developing economies and high prices on the global market translated into increased revenues for Nouakchott from fish, oil, iron, and recently discovered minerals such as cobalt. Hence the junta might conceivably have believed that it could spurn the West’s demands. Dependency Begetting Democracy?

Yet the extent to which Mauritania was dependent upon traditional partners for aid and trade made it difficult to wean itself from these ties, regardless of gains. Qualitatively, development programs could not be replaced by state revenue, especially given the combined dilapidation and predation of the state. Whether they acknowledged it or not, the leadership likely realized that reliance upon the donor community to provide the services and development assistance that elsewhere was the domain of the state lay in their best interest. The oil curse was a doubleedged sword that eventually wounded rulers as well as the ruled.

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Increased state revenues fed the networks of corruption and patronage, while leading to growing public demands for a stake in the wealth that could not be met. Aid programs fulfilled the traditional functions of the state, were generally far more successful at skirting corruption, and appeased the population. The CMJD knew very well that it had been the disappointment resulting from those expectations fanned by the oil bubble that had fatally weakened Taya’s reign. Given Mauritanians’ pragmatic nature, they knew that theirs would be no exception to the rule. Even if the CMJD could ignore external pressures and restructure its foreign relations, the internal demand for change and the risk of a coup from within the military’s ranks constituted sufficiently grave threats. Further, Mauritania was in such desperate straights economically that it could not contemplate isolationism. Its economic survival depended upon trade with its neighbors and Europe, and aid from traditional donors, China, the EU, Japan and the US. This dependence upon the EU was pronounced and enduring. Some 40% of Mauritania’s exports and over 30% imports were with EU countries. Purchasing 26.1% of Mauritania’s exports, China was a growing economic partner but by no means could supplant the EU.66 Its dependency was most obvious, however, when measuring the aid upon which Mauritania counted. The relationship between openness towards the outside world and reform is borne out by Mauritanian history. Periods of autarchy correspond with those of crisis.67 Mauritania’s darkest era, the repression of domestic dissent in the late 1980s and the hardening of the Taya regime, followed by the April 1989 campaign of repression against black Mauritanians, coincided exactly with the turn away from the West and towards Saddam’s Iraq. Provocatively, this line of reasoning strengthens the argument that Mauritania’s weakness proved its strength; that its dependency upon the outside world saved the country from an autocratic renewal. Shifting Sands and Controlled Change

Albeit with the acuity of hindsight, political commentators unanimously agreed that, as spontaneously as the coup appeared, they had sensed some latent form of change. A force steadily accumulating over the previous two years lay on the verge of being unleashed. The former government had expended what legitimacy remained and found itself irreversibly at the end of a cycle of governance. Observers were unaware of its precise form, however, and the coup and its perpetrators came as a surprise. According to Ahmed Ould Daddah, the future designated chief

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of the opposition, head of the Rally of Democratic Forces, and first president Moktar Ould Daddah’s younger brother, three factors hinted at the imminent coup. The first was the ever-growing political repression. The second was economic: the economy was failing despite the discovery of oil. The last was the sentiment of insecurity that pervaded the capital ever since the June 8, 2003 coup attempt. “It was obvious that things couldn’t go on this way. The exact idea of what was to come wasn’t there […] my theory is that this feeling was shared inside the system, inside the system’s consciousness.”68 The motivations that drove the August 2005 coup’s perpetrators are not immediately evident. Fortunately a broad literature and several generations of coup theories exploring the motivations behind coups exist as theoretical charts, among these Donald Horowitz’s seminal 1980 work, Coup Theories and Officers’ Motives. Examining a series of coups in Sri Lanka in comparative perspective, Horowitz noted four competing explanations for the intervention of the military in politics: one, the military as the sole efficient institution in a nation undergoing a modernization crisis; two, the military as a politically-engaged body akin to any other segment of the population and sharing its rifts and desires; three, of the Army as a guild, serving its corporate interests; and four, that of the military not as an organization but as an aggregation of self-interested and ambitious individuals, with “ambition the linchpin of coup d’états.”69 Over a generation later, Horowitz’s theories remain the most pertinent to explicating the motivations behind the August 2005 coup. Of the four competing theories Horowitz describes, systemic, corporate, and personal motivations all interact, but the last explanation most closely approximates the motivations behind the 2005 coup and the immediate commitment to a democratic transition process. The officers’ relinquishment of power might contradict the thesis that ambition was the critical factor – but only if immediate power through military rule was the coup-maker’s goal. Before exploring a rational-actor model to explicate the officers’ decision, the premise that the officers were true believers, men motivated by ideology or values, merits a fair examination. Military officers who have come to power in turmoil have often been motivated by a sense of interlinked personal and national destiny, together with a grandiose, nation-building vision of revolutionizing the political landscape of their countries. Noteworthy instances in the twentieth century include Kemal Atatürk’s modernist and secular Turkish republic, Gamal Abdel Nasser’s Egypt as the beacon of Arab nationalism and socialism, and Charles de Gaulle’s Fifth Republic. Taya

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himself was mocked for having similar visions of Mauritania without the means or the competence to achieve them.70 An examination of Mauritania’s successful coups, as illustrated in the table on the following page, reveals that ideology has played practically no part. What is equally apparent upon closer reflection, however, is how exceedingly difficult it is to place juntas within a meaningful ideological taxonomy. First, those who live to write the coup histories, whether in government or in dissidence, shape the perception of failed coups, and they are likely to attribute motivations and label putschists traitors or martyrs according to self-interested rationales. The true motives of those implicated in the November 1987 coup, black Mauritanians accused of seeking to take over power with a militant, separatist Afro-Mauritanian agenda, indeed the plot’s very existence, may never be determined. Second, juntas are almost invariably characterized by interpersonal rivalries among individuals with varying experiences and worldviews, and categorizations encompassing those varying stances are so broad in many cases as to be meaningless. When these juntas take over, the challenges of governance appear to moderate any ideological predispositions the putschists had when they came to power. Whether the June 2003 coup-plotters, for example, would once in power have hewed to an Islamist-Baathist ideology a mere two months after the fall of Baghdad, and in the midst of Washington’s war on terror, is rather questionable. Within the top ranks of the military, skepticism as to the mere possibility of such a greater intellectual vision prevails. “To have a worldview, you need an education to begin with,” one colonel gibed.71 And when asked whether members of the CMJD were motivated by similar grand visions, Habib Ould Hemet, the minister of state charged with overseeing the reform process within the CMJD’s transitional government, scoffed. Instead, Ould Hemet cited three factors. The first was a political impasse with a single party, rigged elections, a social crisis, and an autocrat, Taya, who never recovered from the June 2003 coup attempt, implying a systemic motive. The second was that the group around him wanted to preserve their interests, and believed they could only do so through a “controlled change,” suggesting that the officers were driven by personal and factional motives. The last, external, factor was the effect of foreign pressure, combined with previous examples in Mali and Ghana.72

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Table 4.1: The Ideology of Mauritanian Coups and Major Alleged Coup Attemps

Coup

Junta

1978

Military Committee for National Recovery (CMRN)

Indiscernible; issue-oriented

Military Committee for National Salvation (CMSN)

Moderate Arab Nationalist

1979

1984

Purported ideology of failed coups

Ideology of successful coups (in bold)

CMSN Indiscernible

1987

N/A

Afro-Mauritanian Nationalist

2003

N/A

Islamo-Arab Nationalist

2004

N/A

Islamo-Arab Nationalist

2005

Military Committee for Justice and Democracy (CMJD)

2008

High Council State (HCE)

Indiscernible; reform-oriented.

of Indiscernible; power-oriented

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Rather than a “controlled change,” human rights activist Boubacar Messoud qualified the August 3 coup as the implosion of the Taya system at the hands of those who knew that they would lose everything otherwise as the system collapsed, hence a systemic motive. Instead, he attributed the coup-makers’ decisions to both external pressure and genuine internal “democratic demand,” albeit one countered by a longstanding despotic demand that sought orders – and a strong leader – to follow.73 Again, the CMJD knew that if they did not put an end to the tradition of coups they would fall victim to another coup, and perhaps one from radical subaltern officers. Having often joined the military with the intention of seizing power through a coup,74 many Arab Nationalists and Islamists had proven their determination to violently eliminate a decaying system and its trustees in three separate attempted coups in June 2003, August 2004 and September 2004. The system’s guardians had taken notice. And yet if overthrowing an increasingly erratic despot was their only hope of preserving their interests, could the same be said for committing themselves to a democratization process and relinquishing power to the very civilians who loathed them? Support hinged upon legitimacy. According to one Mauritanian scholar, the military was perfectly aware that their support was not unconditional but resided in the universal desire to rid Mauritania of Taya, and that the outside world no longer tolerated arbitrary regimes.75 Opposition chief Ahmed Ould Daddah concurred, stating that the CMJD members were fully aware that change was desired, which was perhaps why as a tactical move the junta initially announced that they would remain neutral and not interfere.76 Thus the CMJD made political promises, intending to modify the terms when the political environment became more favorable, only to find itself entrapped by its commitments and unable to rewrite their terms.77 Many observers noted strong similarities between the August 2005 coup and the March 1991 coup of Ahmadou Toumani Touré in Mali.78 The Malian general overthrew the regime of Moussa Traoré, a dictatorship responsible for thousands of deaths spanning from Traoré’s coup in 1968 to Touré’s coup in March 1991. As soldiers were shooting demonstrators in the streets of Bamako, Touré overthrew Traoré’s dictatorship and pursued a transitional process that laid the framework for Mali’s emergence as an unlikely West African success story.79 A landlocked, desperately poor nation bedeviled by desertification and an intermittent but persistent Tuareg rebellion in the north, Mali has nonetheless enjoyed relative political stability since the transition under the tutelage of “ATT,” as he is familiarly known. Touré relinquished

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power to Alpha Oumar Konaré, a freely elected civilian, in 1992, retired from the military, and ran a charitable foundation for children. From the commander of a praetorian guard of a reviled despot, Touré was seen as having transformed himself into a noted democrat and statesman. He subsequently parleyed this image into his election as president following the end of Konaré’s second term. Other observers considered that the 1989 coup in Sudan by officers sympathetic to the National Islamic Front was a more accurate reference for the CMJD.80 In June 1989 those officers, led by current Sudanese President General Omar Bashir, overthrew the government of President Sadiq al-Mahdi, mired in corruption and mismanagement, and anointed his brother-in-law, Islamist politician Hassan Al-Turabi, as the president and public face of their regime. Their purposes served and with AlTurabi seeking to acquire real power, they discarded him in the 1990s. Skeptics argued that through an elaborate, pseudo-democratic façade, CMJD’s members planned to relinquish power, but only temporarily, exploiting their titles of “fathers of the transition” to emulate the model set before them by Ahmadou Toumani Touré’s election as chief executive. Rather than giving away power they were merely lending it, to be repaid with usurious interest in the next election cycle, and legitimately at that. In particular, attention centered on Vall, hypothesizing that he had long intended to forsake an insecure and illegitimate grasp on power in 2005 with the confidence he would assume office in 2012, when the term of the civilian president elected in 2007 would come to an end. The Shoguns of August

Long before serving as the CMJD’s public face, the educated and urbane Colonel Vall had been appointed as the director general of the national police force, the Sûreté Nationale, by Taya in November 1985 and had served the president loyally ever since. A graduate of French military secondary schooling and the Moroccan military academy at Meknès, Vall had been immersed in the political scene without the liabilities of being a political actor by virtue of his position. This two-decade long tutorial served him well. At times presented as an ally of the French, the Moroccans, or as an Arab nationalist sympathizer, Vall never betrayed any sympathies and shunned public life. Instead the soft-spoken colonel concentrated on rendering himself indispensable. As head of both the domestic police force and intelligence agency he was well acquainted with the personalities and the secrets of those most influential among Mauritania’s three million inhabitants.81

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From a relatively modest background,82 Vall since his nomination in 1985 had become one of Mauritania’s wealthiest civil servants.83 His newfound fortunes were not commensurate with his salary. Vall was born into the Ouled Bou Sbaa tribe, a tribe of warriors and merchants stretching along the Atlantic from Morocco through the Western Sahara and Mauritania into Senegal. These kinship ties strengthened the relationship between Vall and BASEP commander Colonel Abdel Aziz, who were in fact cousins. Their ties extended into the business arena, as both Vall and Abdel Aziz were associated with tycoon Mohamed Ould Bouamatou and his circle, one of the country’s main oligarchic groups.84 And the entrepreneurial colonel did not spend his time away from work reading mystery novels at home and avoiding the nebulous world of Mauritanian politics as some readily asserted,85 but rather overseeing his expanding business interests from his sumptuous villa.86 In doing so he was only following the precedent set by his predecessors. Colonel Mohamed Mahmoud Ould Dey, for example, chief of the Gendarmerie, was widely believed to have used his powers over the police and his concomitant responsibility as director of the customs service to extract rents and amass a fortune. And embezzlement from parastatals and private businesses allowed even those officers without the power to extract rents to enrich themselves. Moulaye Ould Boukreiss, the Chief of Staff of the Army and until then the only Mauritanian officer to have been elevated to the rank of general – upon his retirement – was notorious for his alleged personal corruption87 and its contagious effect on the Army as an institution.88 At the time of the coup, Vall is believed to have possessed sizeable personal assets, concentrated for the most part within the real estate market and the construction sector that were booming following the discovery of oil. Among them were three construction sites and some twenty lots, mostly desirable real estate in Nouakchott’s Ilot C neighborhood. In addition, Vall was credited with the ownership of several Nouakchott markets, one of which had been purchased previously for nearly one million euros (equivalent to roughly $1.5 million at the time). Furthermore, he reputedly owned over fifty bakeries throughout the capital, including the premises on which they were located.89 The colonel’s near-monopoly on that staple ensured that from the beginning to the end of their days Nouakchott’s residents could scarcely avoid the colonel in one form or another. Despite Vall’s past, many Mauritanians were cautiously optimistic and saw in Taya’s top security official, whose tenure at the helm of the Sûreté Nationale coincided with the “events” of April 1989 and other waves of repression, the “Trojan horse” who could reform a corrupt and

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dictatorial system from the inside. Among them were victims of these campaigns.90 Vall’s perceived lack of political involvement and an independent base of power reassured Mauritanians that he would be unlikely to attempt to substitute himself for Taya. That every previous Mauritanian coup leader had come to power in similar circumstances of great promise and political weakness, that Taya himself had once been a withdrawn man who shied away from expressing his opinions and commanded neither the respect nor the deference of his fellow military commanders,91 was temporarily overlooked. They likely preferred not to note how similarly the CMJD’s promises echoed those of earlier juntas, notably in the hopeful days following the 1978 coup. The putschists who overthrew Moktar Ould Daddah had also promised to eradicate corruption and bring democracy. Among them was a young lieutenant by the name of Ely Ould Mohamed Vall.92 Behind the public face of the suave Colonel Vall, Colonel Abdel Aziz and his associate, intelligence chief Colonel Ould Ghazwani, lay at the core of the coup. The putsch originated in the mind of Colonel Abdel Aziz; Vall joined the plot only at its execution, and at Abdel Aziz’ insistence.93 Vall’s contribution was not one of military might, but instead that of his political acumen, contacts, and his ability to project a more sophisticated image to the public after the coup succeeded, given his persona. In contrast to the sophisticated Vall, Abdel Aziz represented a simpler breed of officer. More modest than that of his fellow senior officers, he took great care to fit within Moor customs, assiduously attending prayers at his mosque and eschewing conspicuous displays of wealth.94 Born into an Ouled Bou Sbaa merchant family in 1956, Abdel Aziz joined the army in 1977, at the height of the Saharan War. He was sent off to Meknes, Morocco for basic officer’s training, where he met his colleague and trusted future adjutant, Mohamed Ould Ghazwani. Returning to Mauritania, both spent several years in line units before being called to the presidential palace, Abdel Aziz as an aide de camp to Taya and Ould Ghazwani as his assistant. It was to prove a fateful assignment for both officers. Taya, who had recently seized power in a coup, was consolidating his rule and replacing those who had hoisted him to the pinnacle of the State. It was also a time of racial tensions and a government campaign repressing Afro-Mauritanians. If a single one of Taya’s many mistakes could be argued as having proven fatal to his reign, it lay in weakening his capital’s defenses in favor of his praetorian guard, entrusting his fate to a single unit, the BASEP, and a single man, Colonel Abdel Aziz. Abdel Aziz was instrumental in the creation of the BASEP. At the BASEP’s helm, he

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was able to distinguish himself as Taya’s most trustworthy adjutant in June 2003, when his troops halted mutineers’ tanks, and later during an attempted coup in 2004.95 The self-effacing but powerful Colonel Ould Ghazwani, director of military intelligence, served as Abdel Aziz’s main confidant and ally – but made sure not to figure on the CMJD manifest. These men formed the inner core of the conspiracy and later under the junta a triumvirate of sorts, with Abdel Aziz the dominant figure, Ould Ghazwani as his adjutant, and Vall the public face and titular chief executive. Structural Factors

Commentators were therefore mistaken in focusing solely upon Vall. Despite its best efforts to the contrary the CMJD was by no means monolithic, but rather characterized by concentric circles of power and rivalry between the seventeen officers comprising the junta. The CMJD’s decision-making process was constrained both by organizational and hierarchical factors, as well as consequent internal politics. Several members were chosen to bolster its credibility as a nationally representative body, including two military physicians and the colonel commanding the (statutorily military) national fire brigade.96 In an attempt to appease hierarchical tensions, several CMJD vice-presidents were named. All members were placed on an equal footing, wreaking havoc on protocol and belying the real structure of power within the junta. As a result, senior colonels who had held their rank for many years found themselves on a parity with recently promoted colonels.97 The CMJD was further divided between “intellectuals,” supposedly imbued by both their education abroad and their personal inclinations with a grander worldview, and officers whose horizons were defined by their experience in the military as an institution. In reality, the differences between CMJD members and the sources of their contention were far more ambiguous. Hence the game-theory model of a solution to a collective action problem also proves applicable here. In addition to internal rivalries within the CMJD hierarchy, the membership of the CMJD’s two top officers in one of Mauritania’s largest oligarchic groups only heightened the risk of another coup, especially if Colonels Vall and Abdel Aziz openly used their power to favor these business interests.98 Given that continuing military rule would be highly unstable and only prolong internal rivalries both within the junta and among senior officers who found themselves excluded from the CMJD, the only acceptable solution was a cooperative framework leading to an outcome

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wherein none of the officers took power, but all were rewarded. As a hierarchical institution whose very foundations were endangered by the effects of military power, and whose senior leaders had to come fear the wrath of subalterns as expressed through counter-coups, democratization provided the colonels what scholars Juan Linz and Alfred Stepan term an “extrication coup” from the perilous status quo.99 Linz and Stepan argue that under certain circumstances the officer corps, as indispensable members of the state’s power apparatus, can be confident of its place as a corporate body in any conceivable democratic government and is therefore open to renouncing political power in favor of civilians.100 Cutting the Gordian Knot

Corporate interests drive certain elements of the Mauritanian military, such as the desire to move towards an apolitical, professionalized military that engages in international peacekeeping operations and even operates alongside NATO.101 Self-interest, however, drove the coupmaker’s decisions in August 2005. Vall, Abdel Aziz and other senior officers were astute, generally well-informed men who were the first to realize that the twenty-seven year experiment in military rule had failed. The cycle of alternation of power by military coups produced autocracies that grew both in the duration and severity of the successive regimes. They possessed ample systemic motives to risk their lives and fortunes to subjugate the system, for they found themselves shackled to an inherently unstable system and trapped in a vicious circle whereby alternating power was possible only through coups that eventually would endanger their personal interests and well-being. Lastly, they concluded that military rule had been disastrous for the country and had stained the military’s reputation while corroding its sense of mission, endangering their corporate interests in the process. Accordingly, the military leadership concluded it had to find a new way of alternating power and distributing perquisites. Some degree of popular legitimacy also had to be recovered, and the Mauritanian military needed a manner in which to make amends before the people and move forward.102 It was easier to break ranks for the CMJD, for if they did not break with that system, eventually it would have broken them. The CMJD charted a course not in hopes of a revolution but to secure change in Nouakchott, change for the most conservative of motivations. Like the aristocrat Tancredi Falconeri in Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa’s classic The Leopard, the military leadership realized that if they wanted things to stay as they were, things had to change.

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Once they had arrived at the decision that a coup was their only hope, accepting the international community’s electoral norms was but an unavoidable price of their salvation. The junta’s members would seek to prolong their power by constructing an elaborate façade of democracy. They would be joined by the very civil society in which many place so much hope. Whither the Democratizing Coup

Democratizing coups hold the promise of the removal of corrupt, deeply-entrenched autocrats in favor of elected rulers, and imposing democracy through autocratic means without the direct implication of foreign nations. Positive examples of democratization by coup, with minimal bloodshed and the military’s surrendering authority to legitimately elected leaders, from the role of the Armed Forces Movement in Portugal’s Carnation Revolution to that of Ahmadou Toumany Touré in Mali, challenge advocates of democracy and the rule of law. In response to the conundrum posed by coups, two schools eventually converge by necessity: the visceral opposition to coups, stemming from principled opposition to realpolitik, turns to acceptance of new leaders predicated upon the fulfillment of the coup leaders’ democratic commitments. In the international reaction to these coups something of a formula has emerged. Military coups are tolerated so long as those overthrown are recognized as autocrats, the new leaders’ means are relatively bloodless and their ends are considered justifiable. The dilemma for Western governments opposed to such coups on principle is how to respond once they occur. If just war theory is acceptable, and moral support for foreign wars of national liberation common, then reflexive opposition to democratizing coups by those who hold democratic principles dear verges on hypocrisy. This clearly does not imply an imperative to support all putsches whose leaders proclaim the goals of their illegal seizure of power to be those of Jeffersonian democracy. It does, however, militate for multilateral, constructive engagement with coup-makers directed towards the furtherance of good governance and democratic institutions of the country in question. Unfortunately, the democratizing coup is the exception that proves the rule, and not only because of the inherent contradiction between the ends their leaders claim and the means they use. Coups that lead to democratic development are made, not born. As coups are the product of crises that threaten self-interest in varying forms, they lend themselves to greater opportunities for substantive institutional reform at the hands

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of the international community. The decision to risk one’s life and fortunes in toppling an autocratic regime is not made lightly, but cascades from the tipping point when coup-plotters decide that the maintenance of the status quo is a greater threat to the coup-plotters’ well-being than the risks of coup failure itself. Military and security elites make their decisions with considerable political awareness, perfectly cognizant that their popular legitimacy is ephemeral and grounded in assumptions that they will tangibly better their compatriots’ living standards. They find themselves part of the former power structure but alienated from it, wary of the existing opposition movements that they often were involved in repressing. Pinned down in a political no-man’s land, juntas need allies to legitimate their rule and to govern. In the immediate post-coup period they are susceptible to international pressures. But their vulnerability soon fades. Civilian elites realign to support the junta and wear down international opposition, as the narrative of the 2005-2007 transition illustrates, lending urgency to foreign and domestic pressure.

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1

2007.

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Interview (#13) with a Mauritanian political commentator, December

2 N’Diaye, Boubacar, Mauritania, August 2005: Justice and Democracy, or just another coup?, African Affairs (Oxford), Volume 105, Number 420, 2006, pg. 431. 3 Ould Oumère, Mohamed Fall, La Tribune, Un an, déjà !, n. 314, August 3, 2006, pg. 5 4 Al Jazeera English, Ex-Mauritania leader defends record, August 8, 2005, http://english.aljazeera.net/English/archive/archive?ArchiveId=14024, retrieved March 25, 2008. 5 Ould Mahfoud, Habib, La Tension, Al Beyane, 6, supplement, pg. 2, as quoted by N’Diaye, Boubacar, Mauritania, op.cit, pg. 433. 6 N’Diaye, Boubacar, Mauritania, op.cit., 2006, pg. 433; and an interview (#14) with a Mauritanian political analyst, December 2007. 7 N’Diaye, Boubacar N’Diaye, op.cit., 2006, pg. 439. 8 Abdellahi Belil, Mohamed, La débandade du PRDS, La Tribune, n. 314, August 3, 2006, pg. 12. 9 According to reporting from: Al Jazeera English, Mauritania Coup: new President named, August 6, 2005, http://english.aljazeera.net/English/archive/archive?ArchiveId=13874, retrieved March 25, 2008; SABC News, Jubilant Mauritanians celebrate end of Taya’s rule, August 4, 2005, http://www.sabcnews.com/africa/west_africa/0,2172,109667,00.html, retrieved March 26, 2008; SABC News, Jubilant Mauritanians celebrate end of Taya’s rule, August 4, 2005, http://www.sabcnews.com/africa/west_africa/0,2172,109667,00.html, retrieved March 26, 2008. 10 The CMJD’s first proclamation, Nouakchott, August 3, 2005, as cited in Mauritanian Government Press, La Transition de Tous les Espoirs, 2005. 11 Ibid. 12 Ibid. 13 Interview (#3) with newsman Mohamed Fall Ould Oumère, December 2007. 14 Interview (#5) with politician and businessman Béchir El Hassen, December 2007. 15 Xinhua, Mauritanian coup leaders dissolve National Assembly, August 5, 2005, retrieved March 26, 2008, http://news.xinhuanet.com/english/200508/05/content_3313004.htm. 16 International Crisis Group, La Transition Politique en Mauritanie: Bilan et Perspectives, Rapport Moyen-Orient Afrique du Nord, No 53, April 24, 2006, pg. 7. 17 N’Diaye, Boubacar, Francophone Africa in Flux: Mauritania’s stalled democratization, The Journal of Democracy, Volume 12, Number 3 (2001), pg. 92. 18 Al Jazeera English, Ex-Mauritania leader defends record, August 8, 2005, retrieved March 25, 2008. 19 N’Diaye, Boubacar, Mauritania, op.cit., 2006, pg. 432. 20 Interview (#5) with politician and businessman Béchir El Hassen, December 2007.

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21 Interview (#4) with Prof. Ahmed Salem Ould Bouboutt, University of Nouakchott, December 2007. 22 Mohamed, Ahmed, Freed Islamic leaders in Mauritania say ousted leader’s policies fomented extremism, Associated Press, August 10, 2005, retrieved March 26, 2008. 23 In their examination of post-autocratic Southern Europe, the Eastern bloc, and Latin America, Juan Linz and Alfred Stepan argue that civilians are more successful in leading transitions from autocratic regimes towards democracy, a view apparently shared by the CMJD and strengthened by the transitional cabinet’s track record. Linz, Juan J. and Stepan, Alfred, Problems of Transition and Consolidation: Southern Europe, South America, and PostCommunist Europe, John Hopkins University Press, 1996, pg. 68. 24 Al Jazeera English, Mauritania names new Prime Minister, August 10, 2005, http://english.aljazeera.net/English/archive/archive?ArchiveId=14110, retrieved March 26, 2008. 25 Ben Ali, Abdallah, Habib Ould Hemet, Jeune Afrique, March 26, 2006, retrieved March 25, 2008. 26 U.S. State Department, U.S. Envoy meets Leaders of Mauritanian Junta, VOA, August 4, 2005, retrieved on March 26, 2008. 27 Interview (#12) with a Mauritanian consultant, December 2007. 28 N’Diaye, Boubacar, op.cit., 2001, pg. 93. 29 Interview (#13) with a Mauritanian political commentator, December 2007. 30 CNN, Soldiers in Mauritania stage coup, retrieved July 31, 2010, http://edition.cnn.com/2005/WORLD/africa/08/03/mauritania/index.html. 31 Interview (#14) with a Mauritanian political analyst, December 2007. 32 International Crisis Group, op.cit., April 24th 2006, pg. 10. 33 Interview (#13) with a Mauritanian political commentator, December 2007. 34 Ibid. 35 Interview (#12) with a Mauritanian consultant, December 2007. 36 Interview (#33) with Professor Abbas Milani, Stanford University, April 2010. 37 Ibid. 38 Interview (#32) with an EU official in Brussels, April 2010. 39 Interview (#31) with Geoffrey Harris, Head of the European Parliament Human Rights Unit, March 2010. 40 Interview (#30) with Geoffrey Harris, February 2010. 41 Ibid. 42 Interview (#32) with an EU official in Brussels, April 2010. 43 Ibid. 44 Interview (#31) with Geoffrey Harris, March 2010. 45 Interview (#32) with an EU official in Brussels, April 2010. 46 Interview (#34) with Prof. Larry Diamond, Stanford University, April 2010. 47 Interview (#32) with an EU official in Brussels, April 2010. 48 Ibid. 49 Ibid. 50 Ibid.

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Ibid. “The deep instability of West Africa was highlighted again yesterday when a group of army officers overthrew the President of Mauritania and set up a military council to rule the Islamic nation, which is on the verge of a huge oil bonanza”, according to Clayton, Jonathan, Oil wealth triggers army coup, The Times of London, August 4, 2005, http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/news/ world/article551329.ece, retrieved March 26, 2008. 53 BBC News, Press divided on Mauritania coup, August 4, 2005, retrieved March 25, 2008, http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/4744777.stm. 54 Ould Oumère, Mohamed Fall, op.cit., August 3, 2006, pg. 6; and an interview (#13) with a Mauritanian political commentator, December 2007. 55 N’Diaye, Boubacar, Mauritania, op.cit., 2006, pg. 427. 56 Diamond, Larry J., The Spirit of Democracy, Time Books, 2008 pp. 148149. 57 Blunt, Elizabeth, Doubts hang over Togo election, BBC News, April 24, 2005, retrieved March 26, 2008, http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/4497787.stm. 58 BBC News, AU punishes Mauritania over coup, August 4, 2005, retrieved March 25, 2008, http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/4746819.stm. 59 N’Diaye, Boubacar, Mauritania, op.cit., 2006, pg. 434. 60 Interview (#4) with Prof. Ahmed Salem Ould Bouboutt, University of Nouakchott, December 2007. 61 Mohamed, Ahmed, Freed Islamic leaders in Mauritania say ousted leader’s policies fomented extremism, Associated Press, August 10, 2005, retrieved March 26, 2008. 62 Interview (#10) with former diplomat and National Human Rights Commission head Mohamed Saïd Ould Hamody, December 2007. 63 Milani, Abbas, Pious Populist: Understanding the rise of Iran’s president, The Boston Review, November/December 2007. 64 Interview (#19) with a Mauritanian intellectual, December 2007. 65 Ibid. 66 2006 figures from the 2007 CIA World Factbook: Mauritania. 67 Interview (#5) with politician and businessman Béchir El Hassen, December 2007. 68 Interview (#2) with opposition leader Ahmed Ould Daddah, December, 2007. 69 Horowitz, Donald L, Coup Theory and Officers Motives, Princeton University Press, 1980, pp. 4-6. 70 Interview (#13) with a Mauritanian political commentator, December 2007. 71 Interview (#9) with a senior Mauritanian officer, December 2007. 72 Interview (#6) with former Minister of State Habib Ould Hemet, December 2007. 73 Interview (#8) with a well-known human rights activist, December 2007. 74 Interview (#5) with politician and businessman Béchir El Hassen, December 2007. 75 Interview (#7) with University of Nouakchott Secretary General Prof. Mohamed Yedhi Ould Tolba, December 2007. 76 Interview (#2) with opposition leader Ahmed Ould Daddah, December 2007. 52

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Interview (#7) with Prof. Mohamed Yedhi Ould Tolba Four separate sources attest to this argument, namely: - Interview (#6) with former Minister of State Habib Ould Hemet, December 2007. - Interview (#7) with Prof. Mohamed Yedhi Ould Tolba - Interview (#10) with former diplomat and National Human Rights Commission head Mohamed Saïd Ould Hamody, December 2007. - Interview (#13) with a Mauritanian political commentator, December 2007. 79 Diamond, Larry J., The Spirit of Democracy, Time Books, 2008 pg. 28. 80 Interview (#15) with a former Mauritanian public servant, December 2007. 81 International Crisis Group, op.cit., April 24, 2006, pg. 7 82 Interview (#13) with a Mauritanian public servant, December 2007. 83 Donor’s community internal report dating from early 2007. 84 International Crisis Group, op.cit., April 24, 2006, pg. 7. 85 BBC News, Mauritania’s New Military Leader, August 8, 2005, retrieved March 25, 2008. http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/4746387.stm. 86 Interview (#9) with a Mauritanian political analyst, December 2007. 87 N’Diaye, Boubacar, Mauritania, op.cit., 2006, pg. 429. 88 Interview (#13) with a Mauritanian political commentator, December 2007. 89 Drawn from a donor community internal report dating from early 2007 and an interview (#14) with a Mauritanian political analyst, December 2007. 90 BBC News, Mauritania’s New Military Leader, August 8, 2005, retrieved March 25, 2008, http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/4746387.stm. 91 N’Diaye, Boubacar, Mauritania, op.cit., 2006, pg. 433. 92 Interview (#3) with journalist Mohamed Fall Ould Oumère, December 2007. 93 Donor community internal report dating from early 2007. 94 Ibid. 95 Ould Meyne, Mohameden, Mohamed Ould Abdel Aziz: le général baroudeur, Le Calame, August 10, 2008. 96 The complete list of all seventeen officers on the CMJD was rendered public in a CMJD communiqué by the Mauritanian News Agency on August 3, 2005, http://www.mauritania-today.com/anglais/index.html, retrieved on March 26, 2008. 97 Ould Oumère, Mohamed Fall, op.cit., August 3, 2006, pg. 6. 98 International Crisis Group, op.cit., April 24, 2006, pg. 7. 99 Linz, Juan J. and Stepan, Alfred, op.cit., pg. 68. 100 Ibid, pg. 67. 101 Interview (#9) with a senior Mauritanian officer, December 2007. 102 Interview (#14) with a Mauritanian political analyst, December 2007. 78

5 Mauritania’s Prague Spring

The liberties afforded during the transition were unequaled in Mauritanian history. Some Mauritanians feared they might remain so. In the words of one Mauritanian diplomat, the period from late 2005 through spring 2007 seemed like an unending Prague Spring, where dissent repressed under decades of military rule could finally come to the fore. Journalists who months before faced strict censorship from the Ministry of the Interior wrote scathing articles cataloguing the country’s many failings and its leadership’s countless sins. In censoring the fallen regime and covering the present one with glory, however, commentators obscured certain realities of the past and unpleasant, nagging concerns about the transition. Certainly a of freedom had existed under the pseudo-democratic regime of Taya. Yet the liberties afforded during the heady first months of the transition greatly surpassed even the brief liberalization period at the beginning of the 1990s. While these rights might have appeared part of an irrevocable course towards a permanently changed status, fundamentally they bore the seeds of their own demise. Freedom by fiat, without the institutionalization of such gains through the interplay of laws, government structures, civil society and the press, only reinforced the power of the state to decide its subjects’ rights. What civil liberties were lent to subjects as privileges rather than inalienable rights could easily be withdrawn, and so what progress was made was not cemented through concrete legal reforms and the disciplining of the bureaucracy. In vital domains concerning human rights and civil liberties some progress was made. Much, however, was left undone. After two decades of Taya’s rule, there was great temptation to bask in the glories of a democratic interlude and to use the freedoms they were granted, without demanding what seemed unreasonable at the time.

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Defying Explanation

If Mauritania’s transition captivated such interest only to disappoint so many, it is because it was so unique, challenging established paradigms of democratization, defenestrating received wisdom and contradicting the consensus built over democratization processes and coups. In The Spirit of Democracy, Larry Diamond identifies the internal factors that facilitate democratization as free values, such as a more educated citizenry with greater access to information and the rise of civil society. These factors stem from economic development, which sociologist Seymour Martin Lipset first associated with democratization in his 1959 article, Some Social Requisites of Democracy: Economic Development and Political Legitimacy.1 The causal link between development and democracy is quite strong, even discounting wealthy Western liberal democracies, as Stanford economist Henry Rowen found, with correlations everywhere save the Arab world.2 Economic development and the formation of a robust middle class, together with a capitalist culture, eventually grow a civic culture and the civil society providing the fora for civic culture. According to this theory, after accommodating the autocratic regime in a generational developmental pact, the rising middle class casts out the regime and institutes democratic institutions that protect its interests. Democracy constitutes the ultimate elastic good: demand for this system fluctuates depending upon the relative prosperity of the citizenry. Mauritania could boast none of these factors. Yet several outliers confound this theory’s prognostics. Run by a father and son pair for all but fourteen years, Singapore ranked 144th in the world in the 2008 Reporters Without Borders (RWB) press freedom index.3 Mali, on the other hand, with a per capita GDP in purchasing power parity of only $1,200,4 ranked 34th in the RWB index. Though lacking in the democratizing professional class, the landlocked West African nation benefits from Freedom House’s blessing, ranking as free in both its general political report and its freedom of the press rankings.5 Christian Welzel and Ronald Inglehart, in their 2008 Journal of Democracy article, The Role of Ordinary People in Democratization, question the dominant narrative, pointing towards quantitative data that militate in their words for path dependency. In other words, some European countries commenced a particular path combining high economic growth and democratic development some five hundred years ago. Most significantly, Welzel and Inglehart argue that economic development in and of itself does not ensure democracy without the development of certain cultural values, nor can elections alone bring

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“effective” democracy. The fixation with elections as indicators of democracy proves particularly salient in Mauritania’s case. “The essence of democracy is that it empowers ordinary citizens. But holding elections alone will not accomplish this.”6 Welzel and Inglehart instead contrast the construct of electoral democracy, consisting of regular, free and fair elections; and human empowerment, with “the acquisition by ordinary people of resources and values that enable them effectively to pressure elites.”7 In their argument Welzel and Ingelhart cite literature on democracy as the product of a class struggle between elites and masses. Modernization democratizes, they argue, not by rendering democracy more acceptable to elites, but by increasing ordinary people’s abilities and willingness to struggle for democratic institutions. This shifts the balance of forces between masses and elites. At the center of this willingness is the prevalence of “self-expression values.”8 These values are the “synthesis of interpersonal trust, tolerance, and political activism.” Various aspects of economic development, from financial security to education and the presence of a professional class, are credited with developing “self-expression values.” But as the authors demonstrate, the balance of power between masses and elites is not based on the economic distribution of power, as egalitarian dictatorships in East Germany and Czechoslovakia proved, but rather an emphasis on “political liberty.” It is not the disenfranchised who are at the basis of revolt, but rather those with “ample economic and cognitive resources” who can jettison “survival values” for “self-expression values,” the “synthesis of interpersonal trust, tolerance, and political activism.” If development is of interest, it is only because it develops these values.9 Though it proves quite useful in underscoring path dependency for economic development and dispelling notions that democracy comes when ruling elites freely grant it, this explanation does not elaborate beyond the tautological construct of attributing democracy to democratic values acted upon. It offers little help to those exploring how these values are constructed beyond economic development, from 19th to 20th century Western democracies to present-day Mauritania. Lastly, the authors’ “self-expression values” all too closely resemble Abraham Maslow’s “self-actualization values” at the pinnacle of his pyramid of human needs. The troubling implication for underdeveloped democracies is that all these needs must be satisfied before such “democratic values” might prevail. In attempting to construct a viable democracy, Mauritanians have most academics’ theories against them, and only a handful of underdeveloped democracies, from Botswana to

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Ghana, to guide them. At the heart of the effort to democratize is getting ordinary people involved in the affairs of governance. Days of Dialogue

Perhaps the most distinctive and recognizable feature of the immediate post-coup era and the transition in general was the holding of “days of dialogue” sessions (journées de concertation). These were universally welcomed, for they represented a definitive break with a past legacy of autocracy and personalized rule. Under Taya especially, decisions were rendered by executive order, “in the manner of the Russian Czars,” as one civil servant asserted.10 While these public forums were less staged, unlike those arranged under Haidallah in the early 1980s, the moderators as well as the secretaries charged with note-taking and producing minutes of the proceedings and summaries of the points of view expressed were all appointed by the junta. Under the CMJD, the difficult task of defining what reforms were to be initiated and how they were to be directed was left to the civilians. At the beginning of the transition process, the CMJD had selected several highly-regarded public servants to lead their interim cabinet. Among them was Habib Ould Hemet, named Secretary General of the Presidency to serve as Colonel Vall’s main adjutant in piloting the transition through stormy seas. Hemet argued forcefully that the days of dialogue were essential to the transition process and the formulation of reforms. The lack of constructive dialogue in his opinion was at the heart of the political impasse that characterized the authoritarian society bequeathed him and his colleagues as Taya’s legacy. Consensus had been easily formed, in his words, because for the first time those who had shared the same frustrations but been unable to address taboo subjects were able to converse and share opinions.11 The content of these debates and interministerial meetings would shape the reforms his government initiated. The days of dialogue were thus an occasion to correct past wrongs, while lending badly needed credibility to the government, as was the assurance on behalf of the CMJD cadres that they would relinquish power. Vall was therefore initially popular, and not only due to his association with democratic reforms. He took a firm stance with the Australian firm Woodside Petroleum in the midst of controversy over oil proceeds. Prominent figures in the Mauritanian government had been charged with handling the nation’s oil rights with Woodside had signed a contract that cost Mauritania by some accounts $200 million annually.12 Vall’s regime forged an agreement over the country’s fisheries with the European Union,13 whose trawlers routinely

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overfished and emptied the seas to the detriment of local fishermen. The colonel’s negotiations with foreign partners buttressed his domestic standing as a competent technocrat,14 and the agreement solidified his relations with the EU, placating the Europeans and paving the way for a smoother transition. When the same treaty was codified two years later, many Mauritanians would denounce itas an iniquitous bargain that relinquished some of the world’s richest waters for substantially belowmarket prices.15 But for the moment, Vall could boast of progress. Strong responses to perceived injustices at the hands of foreign powers never hurt politicians’ credibility. That progress was made under the CMJD was undeniable. In keeping with some of its commitments following negotiations with the European Union that ended in May 2006 with the CMJD’s acceptance of twenty-four transitional benchmarks, the junta had orchestrated the adoption of a constitution through a referendum that aimed to constrict power through progressive legislation limiting the personalized powers of previous governments. The leader of the political opposition was given ministerial status and hence his role institutionalized; minister was assigned to oversee relations with the opposition and civil society; and the presidency was limited to two consecutive five-year terms. Other concrete gains were at hand, and even the most seemingly insignificant decisions had considerable impact. The change towards the use of a single, unidentifiable ballot for all candidates rather than the color-coded ballots used under Taya, went far in rendering the electoral process more credible with Mauritanians. And women saw their place in society, already among the more favorable in the Arab and African world, steadily improving,16 with the growth of women’s civil society organizations among the results of the transition process.17 These were but some of the factors in a growing shift in Mauritanian society and the cementing of individual liberties. Great Expectations

The National Action Plan for the Environment (PANE), beginning in 2007, best illustrated the scope and shortcomings of the transitional government’s ambitious reforms. PANE’s exalted goals included the systematic integration of sustainable development principles into national policy, the institutionalization of environmental impact surveys for industrial projects, the devolution of authority over shared renewable natural resources to municipalities, and the adoption of legislation addressing water, maritime, forest, and hunting laws together with environment risk management.

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Equally noble were the government’s stated goals in social governance. Nouakchott vowed to redistribute revenue, particularly that from oil, towards social ends such as food security and the alleviation of poverty in general through the adoption of laws on the use of such revenue. The government emphasized targets in the areas of education, health and the fight against HIV/AIDS through a mechanism identifying these targets, directing resources to them and exercising oversight on their follow-through.18 If the vision and ambition of reforms were examined in isolation, it is evident that perhaps little difference existed between Mauritania’s reformist visionaries and those of developeds nation in many regards. Reforms to the penal code, implementing quality control, and the almost compulsive desire for consultation and cooperation between government and civil society were laudable. Yet what became all too apparent was the lack of follow through, especially given the inertia of the state and the resistance of reactionary elements within some quarters of society. By 2007 Nouakchott’s consultation fever, which had infected civil servants, politicians and civil-society leaders, had induced considerable weariness while contributing to few tangible gains. Government was dismissed as an ineffectual talk-shop. Descartes once remarked that nations are governed best when laws are few but strictly enforced. In this case the corollary would hold that governments that draft too many laws and fail to oversee their application risk perpetuating the very ills of poor governance they attempt to combat. The proliferation of edicts, committees, and reforms strangled substantive reform in the crib through voluminous red tape. Bureaucratic obstructionism contributed to inaction and the illusion of paperwork as progress. Despite the best of intentions, through the ceaseless articulation of lofty goals without benchmarks for success, the overbearing use of identical choice phrases and clichés, and the repetition of the intent to make all decisions through consensus, the endeavor sealed its own fate. The transitional government’s unpardonable flaw was that it dictated unfunded mandates with insufficient oversight, overloading an already dysfunctional administrative system. Freedom of Expression

“Freedom of the press is alive and well in Mauritania,” Reporters Without Borders boasted in its 2008 report19 on the state of the press since the August 2005 coup. Some ventured so far as to say that during the CMJD transition period, the media was no longer subject to

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government censorship and enjoyed more freedoms than at any point prior, offering a voice to those previously silenced.20 What was certain was that the press grew in strength and confidence, reaching its apogee after eighteen months of protection under the junta. The transition’s gains were apparent during the legislative and presidential elections of spring 2007, when “the public press [rose] to the challenge of providing fair, balanced coverage of [a] historic election.”21 Yet the CMJD’s president, Colonel Vall, had been Taya’s security chief for nearly twenty years, through some of the darkest chapters in the country’s history. The realities behind civil liberties in Mauritania were far more complex. Freedom of the press, along with other liberties, was cyclical and contingent upon the government’s self-confidence. From the first days of independence, news was considered a national security matter, to be carefully monitored and controlled by the state as such. The regulation of the news media accordingly fell under the Ministry of Interior, charged broadly with guaranteeing internal security under the 1963 press law. There, the power of the press as a tool of propaganda and control was not ignored, and the government in successive regimes worked to carefully regiment the media and favor the state press, withholding information as much as was feasible and only granting interviews to these bodies, for example.22 Control over access to media coverage – and denial of publicity to opposition members – was also a deeply-ingrained habit, one the CMJD never entirely renounced.23 The CMJD had publicly committed itself to freedom of information early on. Meeting with a journalists’ advocacy organization in the months following the August 2005 coup, Vall had made broad promises, from changing laws governing the press to resuming broadcasts of Radio France Internationale that Taya had censored. The French international FM radio station, which traditionally served as the francophone equivalent of BBC in its audience share and authoritativeness, was soon back on air.24 Soon thereafter, the junta assembled the National Commission Charged with the Reform of the Press and Media. The Commission presented its suggestions for reforms in March 2006, changes visible in the June 26, 2006 constitutional referendum.25 Among the articles the CMJD proposed were statutes implicitly recognizing freedom of opinion and thought, together with freedom of expression, and reaffirming its commitment to previous treaties and conventions signed. More substantively, the junta abrogated Taya’s edicts on press freedoms with Ordinance 017-2006. Transferring authority over the press from the Ministry of Interior, which ran the police and

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paramilitary forces, to the Ministry of Justice,26 Article 9 of the ordinance replaced the despised requirement for prior government approval to distribute newspapers with the sole obligation to notify authorities of the intent to publish and distribute. Article 31 even recognized the media’s role in ensuring the right to information and pledged state support. The new ordinance promised to put an end to censorship.27 In the space of a year following the CMJD’s coup and the ensuing spring Nouakchott journalism flowered, as the number of journals that appeared with regularity doubled to forty.28 That said, the CMJD never relinquished its prerogatives to censor what publications it deemed objectionable. Article 21 banned all foreign publications considered offensive to Islam, or that harmed the state’s credibility, the general interest, or public order and security. The president, foreign leaders and foreign diplomats accredited to Mauritania were also protected from offense. Similarly, Article 70 copied Taya’s Article 11 of Ordinance 91-023 almost word for word, empowering the interior ministry and local authorities to seize any materials of any nature, whether newspapers, posters, films or cartoons, that might offend “Islam, harm the general interest, [or] compromise public order and security.”29 If all governments claim some right to censorship, the parameters of this power mark the difference between the protection of minors, on one hand, and the silencing of political dissent on the other. The junta’s rulings were dangerously and purposefully vague, and this ambiguity presented a threat to the very freedoms the officers claimed to protect. The chief editor of TVM, or Mauritanian television, was detained and then fired when a guest on his program accused the government of neighboring Mali of murdering Tuareg activists. Journalists reporting on a presidential visit claimed to have been mistreated by police.30 Al Hurra television correspondent Deddah Ould Abdellah was detained on three different occasions by police, according to his own account.31 Generally, however, the junta was far more commendable in its treatment of journalists than the Taya regime, though the government role in the profession through the official media facilitated abuses. More troubling were deficiencies in the organ the Military Council created to oversee the press. In October 2006, the High Authority for the Press and the Media, or HAPA, was established to reconcile press rights with ethical standards and the public good. The body was flawed from its inception. In its governing stricture’s first article, HAPA copied the very powers that Taya had used to censor the press. The media was granted all rights – save that to offend. Respect for Islamic values, public order, “national unity and territorial integrity,” “national defense

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necessities,” “inherent technical constraints,” “the exigencies of public service,” and human dignity, freedom and property32 all formed justifications for censorship. The limits to free expression were determined only by the censor’s imagination. Its second article consecrated the thoroughly political nature of a subordinate body attached to the Prime minister’s office. The president alone designated half of HAPA’s six members. Two were nominated by the president of the National Assembly and one by the president of the Senate. No requirements stipulated that they represent the journalistic profession through their personal credentials.33 Only days after the coup, stories concerning slavery and prison conditions were censored.34 Though HAPA was authorized to give radio and television licenses, and applications for multimedia broadcasters were accepted, no licenses were delivered.35 The nation’s airwaves remained the government’s preserve, and alone in West Africa, Mauritania had yet to privatize its airwaves. As the future would prove, the government’s monopoly on domestic television and radio services was a bulwark of autocratic power and propaganda. Perhaps the most significant exception to this norm was the establishment by a reform-minded Mauritanian NGO, the Citizens’ Initiative for Change (ICC), of Citizens’ Radio in November 2006. During the upcoming electoral season Radio Mauritania would broadcast public service announcements and voter information programming in all the national languages recorded by Citizens’ Radio, thanks to UN funding.36 By all accounts the ICC’s effort changed Mauritania’s media landscape for good, hinting at the potential for liberalization37 as well as the genuine demand for self-expression and a free media. The printed news media always faced an uphill battle in a country where more were illiterate than not, regardless of language, where newspapers had to be printed in Arabic and French to reach a full audience, and where most dailies cost roughly a dollar, or the average daily income. Moreover, newspaper distribution was limited to major cities.38 Newspapers’ circulation in any event averaged only 1,500, and never surpassed 2,000 copies.39 Only the state news service, the Mauritanian Information Agency (AMI), maintained correspondents throughout the country, and newspapers had few correspondents outside of Nouakchott.40 With the advent of the independent press with the pseudodemocratization of the early 1990s, the number of newspapers had expanded exponentially, while the supply of trained journalists remained stagnant. In the thirty years prior to the media explosion trained journalists had been employed by the state, and many were loathe to

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abandon the security of government employment for the risks of private journalism in very uncertain political and economic conditions. Of those who accepted the challenge, most had no formal training. A sizeable number were former teachers who abandoned the classroom in hopes of a more rewarding career. In consequence, ethics and competence suffered.41 Of numerous journals available any given day, only a handful were independent in their editorial line and financing.42 In addition to ethical abuses attributed to a lack of professionalism,43 quantity at the expense of quality was the norm, with numerous journals appearing briefly and quickly folding. Of dozens of newspapers with licenses, only fifteen appeared regularly. Many served more as publicity services than purveyors and analysts of news, with considerable favoritism and support for various financial and tribal interests noted by electoral observers.44 Press credentials were distributed liberally, and no difference was made in official press conferences between reporters from newspapers of reference and ephemeral, partisan outlets that served their patrons with publicity and propaganda. With no regulation, mercenary journalists, known locally as “peshmerga”45 for the irregular Kurdish fighters, were the omnipresent foot soldiers of legions of small newspapers answering to their financiers alone. A “gutter press” of tabloids thrived, operated by unscrupulous journalists who supplemented income from their circulation with bribery and blackmail.46 In this regard Mauritania’s situation was no different from similar quandaries affecting the press elsewhere, where the financial precariousness of many journalists generates powerful enticements to engage in unethical practices. Those journalists who fought for their independence paid a heavy tribute. Journalists’ salaries in the private sector were derisory, and benefits non-existent.47 Finances were an unending crisis, for independent newspapers vied for derisory advertising revenue. In one of the country’s most influential and widely-read newspapers, journalists, including the journal’s editor-in-chief, were all part-timers pursuing parallel careers rather than salaried professionals. Other journalists paid a far greater toll. Al Arabiya’s correspondent and the editor-in-chief of the Arabic-language daily Al Akhbar, Khalil Ould Jodoud, was severely beaten in his own office in February 2006, after he had reported on the suspected embezzlement within the Commerce and Investment Bank, BACIM. The attack was attributed to a half-brother of the bank’s main shareholder, a former colonel who had traded his fatigues for a business suit.48 Despite the colonels’ guarantees of freedom of expression under the CMJD’s transition, following the first round of presidential elections

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supporters of candidates eliminated in that round seized Al Jazeera’s offices and threatened its journalists. Journalists were powerless even to lodge complaints faced with pressures to retract their statements.49 Mauritanians sensed that the rights proffered under a brief spell of military rule exceeded what they would be allowed once normality returned. What brought Mauritanian society into the information age was the explosion in cell phone usage.50 According to some accounts, by 2006 nearly one million mobile phones circulated within the country, with a population of slightly over three million. The presence of this democratizing technology made for greater connectedness within society, while the ubiquity of internet cafés afforded more urban Mauritanians than ever links to the outside world. Yet if news portals in cyberspace were not blocked and comprised the news source of reference for many affluent Mauritanians, only 0.5 percent of the population boasted the means to access the internet by Freedom House’s estimate.51 Access to information remained limited to the privileged few. Vestiges of Authoritarianism

The habitus acquired over decades of autocracy frequently reared its head, exposing a societal side effect of authoritarian rule that constituted one of the more insidious forms of political control: self-censorship. Decades of autocracy had schooled some Mauritanians in autocratic norms, which many journalists had internalized, practicing selfcensorship.52 These habits extended also to the bureaucracy, where employment and advancement depended upon political favors. The internalization of self-censorship was so profound that it had become second nature and such instinctive action was difficult to unlearn. When the ICC initiated Citizen’s Radio, for instance, it soon found that the radio was occasionally censured.53 The radio was shut off not necessarily by the directive of the state, but by officials within the national radio broadcasting system who had so deeply internalized old norms that they instinctively cut off Citizens’ Radio without even awaiting orders from higher authority.54 Numerous others, including journalist and editor Mohammed Fall Ould Oumère, also noted a powerful yearning to have a chief from whom to take orders but who would also do his subordinates’ jobs in their place if necessary so as to get his way. Ould Oumère was not alone in his observations.55 A prominent Mauritanian dissident noted the resilience of a powerful despotic demand, in a country he deemed still willing to blindly follow orders.56 A dichotomy persisted between real

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and formal rights, highlighting the difficulty of teaching liberal practices in a society where many still shrank from taking advantage of their formal liberties. Torture and the Radicalizing State

Along with self-censorship, learned helplessness, and despotic demand remained the vestiges and old habits internalized under the two decades of Taya’s rule. Torture was one of these phenomena, consistently practiced in police stations, especially against common law prisoners and the poor.57 Amnesty International concluded that the “systematic recourse to torture” by police and security forces was a standard, almost banal practice inflicted upon virtually all prisoners, from those suspected of undermining the state to common law prisoners.58 Attention invariably focused on political prisoners, and the improvement in their conditions might have given outside observers cause for satisfaction. That torture of political prisoners is no longer common place owed much to donor support and conditionality.59 As one police chief himself admitted to a journalist, who happened to have been his prisoner during the last years of the Taya regime, torture against political prisoners had been suspended under pressure from the international community. But for common-law prisoners, particularly foreigners and those without the means to bribe the police, torture remained common, as the police did not have the means to conduct proper investigations.60 Though some allege an ethnic and class bias, with torture used by police against a perceived Haratine underclass but far less frequently against Bidan,61 the practice was so common that practically all prisoners risked torture at the hands of security forces, for whom the abuse was practically their “sole investigative means.”62 Certainly, however, inequality followed Mauritanians to the prison cell. The poor and those without familial or tribal heft suffered torture more frequently than their peers.63 Those with good connections to the police could not only protect their family members but have individuals they suspected of thievery forced to confess to crimes.64 Torture’s underlying cause was systemic and deeply rooted in Mauritania’s judicial and police system, where it was practiced with impunity65 at the hands of personnel with little regard for forensics and investigative procedure. In the course of arrests and raids to seize suspects and evidence, legitimately issued warrants, though required by law, were rarely used.66 One Nouakchott lawyer noted that the police boasted no technical training or competence, even in the domain of basic

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fingerprinting, resembling a militia rather than a professional force. Confessions alone sufficed in the courts, and many prisoners were condemned to lengthy sentences on the sole basis of confessions.67 Indeed, criminal convictions depended almost exclusively upon suspects’ confessions, and the legal framework was administered so as to facilitate the rapid extraction of such confessions, regardless of the means used. Confessions obtained in such a manner were entirely admissible in Mauritanian courts, even when the duress under which they had been obtained was manifest, and suspects had since retracted them.68 As authorities themselves freely confessed to Amnesty, torture ceased only once a confession had been extracted.69 If this habitual cruelty was almost banal, it was only with the complicity of a judicial system based upon the practice, for the perpetrators were well known and acted with complete, even brazen impunity. Though some interrogators wore hoods to conceal their identities, many others disregarded these procedures and made themselves known by name to their victims. When prisoners petitioned judges and courts for justice, no investigations followed.70 From the policeman perpetrating the acts in complete impunity to prosecutors and judges, a chain of mutual complicity existed. When a fifty-eight-year-old Guinean immigrant died in police custody, in what NGOs labeled “a police killing,” the security forces claimed he had “committed suicide by throwing himself into a wall.” The official internal investigation supported the policemen’s selfexonerating assertions.71 Some prosecutors and occasionally even judges explicitly supported torture, one of the reasons that detainees could complain before several magistrates without effect.72 More importantly, regardless of whether torture may have been eased under the transition, the personnel who employed torture were never disciplined or purged.73 Across the board, Mauritania took no measures to prevent such abuses and pursue those responsible.74 Instead, every echelon of the judiciary acted to protect its own and perpetuate the security system and its practices. Malfeasance and incompetence were present at every level of the judicial system, from humble patrolmen to bailiffs, prosecutors and senior judges. For only two dollars Mauritanians could acquire their criminal records without even the inconvenience of visiting the courthouse. At a time when dozens were tortured for their suspected connections to terrorist organizations, “authentic” false license plates obtained from corrupt authorities allowed illegally imported or stolen automobiles to travel freely. When false license plates were identified, rather than impounding the vehicles and charging their owners police

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attempted to extort them for bribes.75 Police were also alleged to arrest former criminals and demand bribes for their release.76 On occasion when police were unable to locate a suspect, they arrested family members without regard for age, sex, or health, whom they threatened and imprisoned in conditions tantamount to “torture or mistreatment.”77 Judges did not enforce strictures upon the police, who were only following the judicial system’s fiats. Magistrates themselves were far from professional, for they had neither the means nor the training to fulfill their mandate. Many were recruited in suspect circumstances, and all could be dismissed by the executive branch at any moment. And despite much talk of combating corruption, there was no specialization in economic crimes on the part of police, prosecutors or judges.78 Certain judges only accepted cases from their favorite lawyers, which forced plaintiffs to hire these attorneys at whatever fees they demanded.79 That connivance existed between these lawyers and the judges who favored them followed logically. A functional bail system did not exist,80 and judges were known to sell suspects their freedom for the equivalent of $200, while some officers of the court were known to demand “fuel costs” so as to deliver a summons.81 After the CMJD had taken control of the executive, few tangible improvements were enacted. At the very end of the democratic transition in April 2007, amendments in the criminal procedure code prohibiting torture were adopted,82 but no law in the penal code criminalized the practice, and no public servant had ever been punished for such practices.83 That defendants had the right to a lawyer, and that a court might appoint one for them if they were unable to retain an attorney with their own means,84 was irrelevant if prisoners had already confessed to charges under duress. This reliance upon such confessions was not lost upon the April 2007 criminal procedure code’s drafters, who insisted in Article 58 that “confessions obtained by torture, violence, or under duress have no value.” The proscription of mistreating detainees was also an acknowledgement of torture’s ubiquity.85 Mauritanian law, which was in essence two parallel legal systems, one based on French law and the other based on Shariah, or Islamic law, had long compounded prisoner abuse through prolonged detentions without access to an attorney. What rights the law accorded prisoners it negated by those it removed. In declaring that forced confessions were valueless and detainees had the right to proper treatment, Article 58 also stated that a prosecutor could delay a prisoner’s contact with a lawyer at the judicial police’s request if circumstances so required.86 Once suspects were charged, their

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preliminary incarceration might last years before they faced a court of law.87 Reports following the transition process highlighted the prevalence of torture and the number of arrests for “threatening State security” or “acts of terrorism,” both under the Taya regime and the junta that overthrew it.88 Such practices were not attributable to any one regime but to an institution left unchanged and unchecked. As Amnesty International concluded, “all successive governments in the past decades have endorsed the systematic recourse to torture or were unable to end it.”89 Neither the junta, nor the civilian government that would later succeed it, attempted to end the practice, for doing so would have toppled a central pillar of the criminal justice system. What was at cause lay deeper than a single phenomenon that might be rectified. Even were it not for torture, prison conditions in Mauritania alone constituted “cruel, inhuman, and degrading treatment.”90 Disease was endemic, medical supplies available in prisons were provided only by an international NGO, and prisoners were otherwise dependent upon family members for provisions and medication.91 Though the U.S. State Department observed several improvements from the Taya years, such as the absence of reports of government operatives committing extrajudicial executions or deaths following police repression of demonstrators,92 no substantive changes took place under the junta. In sum, the sole concession towards political prisoners and the right to dissent appeared in the general amnesty declared for all political crimes, which immediately freed soldiers accused of fomenting coups as well as suspected Islamist fundamentalists.93 Longstanding abuses, including human trafficking, child labor, female genital mutilation, involuntary servitude, and ethnic and racial discrimination, continued unabated.94 During the entirety of the CMJD’s term not a single official of note was imprisoned on corruption charges. The abuses were systemic, and the system was harsher towards the proverbial petty thief who stole bread than the ministerial secretary general who embezzled millions.95 These systematic injustices, a Leftist underground leader turned Nouakchott lawyer argued, fueled revolt. Wardens frequently housed common law prisoners with Islamists, leading to fraternization between the two. Not much had changed from circumstances nearly forty years before, when Marxist Kadihines “tried to influence common-law prisoners towards the right path,” in the former Kadihine leader’s words.96 To condemn the CMJD for not eradicating persistent abuses within nineteen months would be absurd. What was inexcusable, however, was

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the lack of effort to remedy them or initiate palliative programs that might be continued by the officers’ civilian successors. The disconnect between formal law and statutes the Military Council had ushered into existence and daily realities seemed all the more surreal – or voluntary – given that the junta was headed by the former chief of national police. The abuses in the justice system would come to haunt Mauritanians only months after the transition’s conclusion, when the penal system’s radicalized products struck back at society. Illusions of Progress?

The test of free speech is whether taboos and painful subjects are revisited, and amends made in consequence. Chief among them, the legacy of slavery and persistent racism lingered. This racism had bred a deeply ingrained suspicion of the Bidan among many Haratines in particular, despite the ascension of many to higher office. In the eyes of radicalized Haratines, the Bidan saw no interest in pursuing policies to alleviate the conditions of former slaves, as they themselves feared losing power over former slaves who remained in dependent relationships. In this view, having perfected the use of cultural and educational implements with which to enthrall their former slaves, including subjective religious interpretations, former masters were not expected to relinquish these controlling structures.97 Such a priori assumptions of bad faith perpetuated a conspiratorial outlook that was as much an impediment to progress as the ills it fervently denounced. These views were also self-fulfilling prophecies, undermining cooperation with other segments of society and systematically downplaying progress and alienating well-meaning Bidan whose cooperation was desperately needed. The CMJD did little to improve matters, however for it displayed little interest in addressing the vestiges of slavery. Major disconnects between laws passed and the law enforcement mechanisms that were to implement them remained. Granted, the CMJD’s abridged tenure limited its abilities to effect change. Yet it failed even to conduct legal reform on the matter. For example, the 1981 ordnance abolishing slavery itself still recognized masters’ rights to compensation and rights over their slaves.98 Its failure to take advantage of a historic occasion and its extraordinary powers to begin turning the chapter on slavery’s vestiges numbers among the CMJD’s salient failures. If the most urgent reforms had yet to be undertaken, for many inside Mauritania and out, democracy seemed within reach.99 Seasoned observers questioned such a rosy image. Even under the Taya regime

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many were free to criticize the regime and left untouched – so long as they did not act on their opinions.100 Even during the darker years of Taya’s rule, some still publicly defied him. The late Habib Ould Mahfoud founded Le Calame, which came as close as any Nouakchott newspaper could to serving as a journal of reference, and spared Taya no criticism in his humoristic column “Mauritanides.” In one of his first columns, Mahfoud directed his derision at the despot, through Taya’s erecting a large wall around the presidential palace. Ridiculing the construction of bunkers and fortifications for Taya’s praetorian guard, Mahfoud used the concept of the barrier in extended metaphors to deride the dictator. He concluded that the president had an affinity for walls, having erected the stonewalling of criticism as his system of governance. Further, the editor mocked the man himself, playing on a homophone to assert that the taciturn, timid adolescent Taya had never grown up. Indeed, Mahfoud went so far as to label Taya a “mentally besieged” “wall-man,” the victim of his “adolescent angst.” The indecisive ruler “decided only with his back to the wall, and the result was known: management from day to day, wall to wall.”101 Coming only two years after the end of vicious ethnic purges, such vitriolic wit and telling candor in the face of a dictator was distinctly Mauritanian. This toothless form of free speech helped legitimate a regime that could point to dissent and newspapers as signs of democratic free speech, while minimizing its periodic imprisonment of dissenters and its censorship of the media. Some commentators noted that the same liberties existed between 1960 and 1969, during the purported “golden age” of the early post-independence years.102 Less frequently uttered was that these liberties also existed under the former colonial rulers, who through their “indirect rule” were never around when criticized.103 Occasional reminders that much work remained to be done percolated under the CMJD. In December 2006, for example, police crushed a demonstration and assaulted students. Decidedly, the repressive reflexes of an authoritarian era were difficult to let go.104 For the junta the creation of new institutions and votes was a mere question of the will to accept them; their fiats did the rest, as it was up to civilian functionaries to scramble to invest those bodies with requisite powers and make the apparatus of government function. The CMJD would ultimately take credit for all the unproblematic and painless changes. Civilians were left with the dilemma of how to move forward beyond reform by decree after the military, in the nineteen months of the transition, had exhausted all the forms of change that could be achieved by fiat and decree alone, took credit for them and the era of good

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feelings, and exited the formal power structure. Politics was too compromising, in all senses, to be left to the soldiers, especially given how it might affect the public standing they counted upon later. Accordingly, the CMJD engaged in erecting democratic simulacra that generated illusions of progress for the advantage of its members’ interests. Regardless of the intentions behind these maneuvers, what was undeniable was that the democratic transition was an attempt to burnish the image of a compromised military elite. Well within the CMJD’s goals might have been demonstrating the military’s reputation for superior efficiency in stark contrast to the incompetence and impotence of civilian institutions, a common perception in developing societies around the world.105 Civilians could only suffer by comparison so long as the CMJD basked in the limelight of an internally-acclaimed transition process. Indeed, the nature of the reforms themselves bred criticisms that they were largely superficial, decorative changes in fixtures conceived to create the appearance of a democracy.106 Whether or not the junta’s members unduly profited from their legacy, what would become clear was that some key officers in the junta intended to retain power, and relied upon all manner of machinations to do so. Their coup, which promised democracy, counted but as one of the symptoms of the broader disease of autocracy and personalized rule. Democracy or Neopatrimonialism with a Democratic Face?

Had the military truly relinquished power? In form the response seemed evident, but a compelling argument could be made that certain officers and civilians had never truly lost power. Another analysis could plausibly state that the 2005-2007 transition period had been an adaptation rather than a true change of government, one where fundamentally undemocratic institutions survived and where the elites were busy reconsolidating their power. This clique had long governed the country in the absence of any counterweights. During the colonial period the French had resolved to govern through local tribal leaders in a British Empire-style “indirect rule” approach. After a brief interlude following independence and a spurt of nation-building, neopatrimonialists had reasserted themselves in a chronically weak state. This same ruling class of 300 to 400 individuals in a nation of three million permeated government institutions, political parties, and business. If the August 3, 2005 coup had not been their doing, they found a way to profit from the coup.107

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Though in appearance the ruling PRDS system had fragmented, and its power to mobilize supporters had been substantially reduced, the hydra-headed party continued to permeate all segments of society. Prudently covering itself, its members spared no effort to enter in the good graces of the new regime and president, and infiltrate emergent political formations.108 It came as no surprise, therefore, when former PRDS members enthusiastically joined the ranks of the new ruling party, the National Pact for Democracy and Development (PNDD/ADIL), only months after the transition period had concluded. According to this explication, the notion of public opinion and civil society was meaningless when such disparities in power persisted, allowing these elites to shape the public discourse and usurp public institutions to serve their interests. And though these elites were interested in stability and what reform was needed to ensure social peace, they were certainly not intent on surrendering their powers. Their decision-making to a large extent mirrored that of the CMJD itself. If this privileged class had now decided to rally to a democratic government, it was a pragmatic choice to adapt to the demands of a new era while safeguarding their interests, adorning neopatrimonalism with a democratic face. Troubling Conclusions

According to the majority of measures, most judged at the transition’s conclusion in 2007 that the transition had been successful. The prevailing wisdom held that the resort to dialogue at every step of the way, together with the expansion of personal liberties, had rendered a sucessful transition possible. Though the economy was flagging, the edification of democratic institutions was well underway, and the foundational principle of pluralism would no longer be called into question. In politics, optimal results are not to be confounded with optimum results.109 What was essential was not the maneuverings or interference of CMJD members, but that in essence the CMJD’s commitments had been fulfilled. Though the reforms initiated remained works in progress, its architects argued they had brought newfound vitality and momentum to the country.110 Under the surface, however, little had changed. Corruption, allied with inequality in the distribution of wealth and power, imperiled Mauritania’s fledgling democracy.111 The reasons behind foreign support for Mauritania, many concluded, had more to do with questions of realpolitik than support for democracy. Mauritania had been supported because it posed threats that could no longer be ignored, those

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of illegal immigration and drug trafficking to the European Union, and that of terrorism to the United States.112 If the CMJD-led transition yielded positive lessons, it was in the importance of conditionality in foreign aid. Undoubtedly the most important event within the transition was the CMJD’s commitment, in exchange for continued aid, to twenty-four benchmarks defined and measured by the European Union and aid donor partners. These commitments allowed for a substantive evaluation and for the application of consistent, constant pressure by the allied powers of the European Union and the United States. These commitments also had considerable import locally, for they provided concrete examples with which Mauritanians, who did not lack for critiques of their own, could critique based upon the observations of foreign diplomats. The local media picked up on failings, which included political appointments of cronies to diplomatic positions abroad and other instances of cronyism and nepotism.113 As one commentator argued, Mauritanians could not expect any better than the change the CMJD effectuated, which included the most substantial freedoms the country had ever known, and in his opinion might ever know. In an unprecedented change, one could trust state newspapers, journalists were free to write what they pleased, and Mauritanians, if only briefly, could express themselves freely. Mauritania’s coup was a change, but not a revolution.114 But change or a transition process does not make a democracy, particularly when the opportunities they offer are not seized. A similar, and ephemeral liberalization had occurred only a decade earlier. In the cyclical course of Mauritanian political history, freedoms were accorded when those in power had no choice but to offer concessions so as to retain power. So as to appease its foreign lenders and some internal critics, Nouakchott would grant greater civil liberties through texts brandished as signs of irreversible change. As the mirage dissipated and dissent commenced anew, provisions within these statues that preserved authorities’ powers were applied and repression resumed its course. Samuel Huntington in The Third Wave argues that nations can only be considered democracies once power has alternated between opposed political actors. Mauritania’s coup was anything but a reversal of the political status quo and a change in power, for it came at the hands of high-ranking members of the existing power structure. The drastic structural changes necessary to impose democracy were therefore impossible during the 2005-2007 democratic transition. Mauritania’s democratization instead depended on a gradualist process of reforms over the coming years.

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The CMJD failed to address the structural causes manifest in the country’s societal tribulations, such as the vestiges of slavery, human rights abuses grounded on racial and ethnic lines, censorship, or the institutionalization of torture. The ruling elites that junta represented possessed neither the will nor the interest in making the sacrifices needed to remedy such evils. Change came only under sustained internal and external pressure, and the greatest gains were not granted by the Military Council but were seized by Mauritanians themselves in the more permissive atmosphere of the transition, developing new freedoms and, fatefully, becoming accustomed to them. What reforms were made were largely pro forma concessions, whose implementation was left to the colonels’ civilian successors. Theirs was entirely a conservative reformation, an attempt to change aspects of the system’s edifice so that the system might remain the same, as imminent elections would prove.

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1 In reference to Lipset, Seymour Martin, “Some Social Requisites of Democracy: Economic Development and Political Legitimacy,” American Political Science Review, March 1959 (53). 2 Rowen, Henry, “The Tide Underneath the ‘Third Wave’”, p. 55, as quoted by Diamond, Larry J., The Spirit of Democracy, Times Books, 2008, pg. 97. 3 Reporters Without Borders, Press Freedom Index, 2008, retrieved March 2009, http://www.rsf.org/ article.php3?id_article=29031. 4 CIA World Factbook, Mali, 2008, https://www.cia.gov/library/ publications/the-world-factbook/geos/ml.html - Econ, retrieved March 20, 2009. 5 Freedom House, Country Report: Mali, 2008, retrieved August 20, 2009, http://www.freedomhouse.org/template.cfm?page=22&year=2008&country=74 42; and Freedom House, Freedom of the Press, Country Report: Mali, 2008, http://www.freedomhouse.org/template.cfm?page=251&year=2008, retrieved August 20, 2009. 6 Welzel, Christian and Inglehart, Ronald, The Role of Ordinary People in Democratization, The Journal of Democracy, Volume 19, Number 1, January 2008, pg. 128. 7 Ibid, pg. 126. 8 Ibid, pg. 135. 9 Ibid, pg. 138. 10 Interview (#10) with Mohamed Saïd Ould Hamody, December 2007. 11 Interview (#6) with former Minister of State Habib Ould Hemet, December 2007. 12 BBC News, Mauritania and firm row over oil, February 6, 2006, retrieved February 16, 2008, http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/business/4684836.stm. 13 The terms of this agreement would be consolidated two years later in a durable agreement with the European Union. Le Calame. Mauritanie-Union Européenne: Nouvel accord de pêche, March 18, 2008. 14 Interview (#10) with Mohamed Saïd Ould Hamody, December 2007. 15 Tuquoi, Jean-Pierre, Bataille internationale autour du poisson mauritanien, Le Monde, October 22, 2008. 16 Diallo, Bios, La longue marche, in Mauritanie: changement d’ère, Jeune Afrique, March 26, 2006. 17 Meunier, Marianne, 3 questions à… Mognana Sow Mohamed Deyna, in Mauritanie: changement d’ère, Jeune Afrique, March 26, 2006. 18 Liste des Mesures de Gouvernance Programmees par le Gouvernement 10eme FED Mauritanie. 19 Reporters Without Borders, Mauritania - Annual Report 2008, http://www.rsf.org/article.php3?id_article=25391, retrieved August 20, 2009. 20 Campagne Mondiale pour la Liberté d’Expression, Mauritanie : Rapport sur la Liberté d’Expression: Nous revenons de loin, mais restons vigilants, June 2007, pg. 17. 21 Reporters Without Borders, Public media rise to challenge of providing balanced, neutral coverage of historic election, March 27, 2007 http:// www.rsf.org/article.php3?id_article=21439, retrieved August 20, 2009. 22 Campagne Mondiale pour la Liberté d’Expression, op.cit., pg. 11.

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23 State Department Bureau of Democracy, Human Rights and Labor, 2006 Country Reports on Human Rights Practices: Mauritania, March 6, 2007. http://www.state.gov/g/drl/rls/hrrpt/2005/61581.htm, retrieved August 20, 2009. 24 RWB, Military leader keeps promise to let RFI resume FM broadcasts, December 9, 2005, http://www.rsf.org/article.php3?id_article=15440, retrieved January 15, 2008. 25 Freedom House, Freedom of the Press - Mauritania (2007), 2 May 2007. Available online at UNHCR Refworld: http://www.unhcr.org/refworld/docid/ 478cd53144.html, retrieved 18 March 2009. 26 State Department Bureau of Democracy, Human Rights and Labor, 2006 Country Reports on Human Rights Practices: Mauritania, March 6, 2007. 27 Campagne Mondiale pour la Liberté d’Expression, op.cit., June 2007, pg. 14. 28 Freedom House, op.cit,, 2 May 2007. 29 Campagne Mondiale pour la Liberté d’Expression, op.cit., pg. 14. 30 Freedom House, op,cit,, 2 May 2007. 31 State Department Bureau of Democracy, Human Rights and Labor, 2006 Country Reports on Human Rights Practices: Mauritania, March 6, 2007. 32 Campagne Mondiale pour la Liberté d’Expression, op.cit., pg. 16. 33 Ibid. 34 State Department Bureau of Democracy, Human Rights and Labor, 2005 Country Reports on Human Rights Practices: Mauritania, March 8, 2006. 35 Freedom House, Freedom of the Press - Mauritania (2007), 2 May 2007. 36 I Mission d’Observation Electorale de l’Union Européenne en Mauritanie 2006-2007, Elections municipales, législatives 2006 et présidentielles 2007, Rapport Final, Nouakchott, March 2007, pg. 5. In the interest of complete transparency the author notes that he worked with the Citizens’ Initiative for Change, the Mauritanian NGO behind Citizens’ Radio, for nearly a year from 2008 to 2009. 37 Campagne Mondiale pour la Liberté d’Expression, op.cit., June 2007, pg. 17. 38 Campagne Mondiale pour la Liberté d’Expression, op.cit., pg. 20. 39 Mission d’Observation Electorale de l’Union Européenne en Mauritanie 2006-2007, op.cit., pg. 49. 40 Ibid. 41 Campagne Mondiale pour la Liberté d’Expression, op.cit., pg. 19. 42 Ibid. 43 International Research and Exchanges Board, Mauritania, Media Sustainability Index for Africa 2006-2007, http://www.irex.org/programs/ msi_africa/mauritania.asp, retrieved March 17, 2009. 44 Mission d’Observation Electorale de l’Union Européenne en Mauritanie 2006-2007, op.cit., pg. 49. 45 Campagne Mondiale pour la Liberté d’Expression, op.cit., pp. 19 – 20. 46 Reporters Without Borders, Mauritania - Annual Report 2008, http:// www.rsf.org/article.php3?id_article=25391, retrieved August 20, 2009. 47 International Research and Exchanges Board, op.cit.. 48 Campagne Mondiale pour la Liberté d’Expression, op,cit,, pg. 21. 49 Ibid.

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50 Meunier, Marianne, Un besoin vital de communiquer, in Mauritanie: changement d’ère, Jeune Afrique, March 26, 2006. 51 Freedom House, op.cit., 2 May 2007. 52 State Department Bureau of Democracy, Human Rights and Labor, 2006 Country Reports on Human Rights Practices: Mauritania, March 6, 2007. 53 ICC president’s letter to Radio Mauritanie’s deputy director concerning censorship of the rebroadcast of programming on the 10pm news bulletin of November 8th, 2007; letter dated November 9th, 2007. 54 Interview (#1) with Sidi Mohammed Ould Cheiguer, December 2007. 55 Interview (#3) with Mohammed Fall Ould Oumère, December 2007. 56 Interview (#18) with a noted Mauritanian activist, December 2007. 57 Interview (#23) with Abdelkader Ould Hamad, June 2009. 58 Amnesty International, Mauritania: Torture at the Heart of the State, December 3, 2008, pg, 5. 59 Interview (#23) with Abdelkader Ould Hamad, June 2009. 60 Interview (#22) with Mohamed Fall Ould Oumère, June 2009. 61 Interview (#18) with a Mauritanian dissident, December 2007. 62 Amnesty International, op.cit., pg. 10. 63 State Department Bureau of Democracy, Human Rights and Labor, 2006 Country Reports on Human Rights Practices: Mauritania, March 6, 2007; and interview (#23) with Abdelkader Ould Hamad, June 2009. 64 Interview (#23) with Abdelkader Ould Hamad, June 2009. 65 Amnesty International, op.cit., pg. 5. 66 State Department Bureau of Democracy, Human Rights and Labor, op.cit., March 6, 2007. 67 Interview (#23) with Abdelkader Ould Hamad, June 2009. 68 Amnesty International, op.cit., pg. 6. 69 Ibid, pg. 16. 70 State Department Bureau of Democracy, Human Rights and Labor, op.cit., March 6, 2007. 71 State Department Bureau of Democracy, Human Rights and Labor, op.cit., March 8, 2006. 72 Amnesty International, op.cit., pp. 15-19. 73 Interview (#18) with a noted human rights activist, December 2007. 74 Amnesty International, op.cit., pg. 7. 75 Blundo, Giorgio, op.cit., pg. 30. 76 State Department Bureau of Democracy, Human Rights and Labor, op.cit., March 6, 2007. 77 Amnesty International, op.cit., pg. 17. 78 Interview (#23) with Abdelkader Ould Hamad, June 2009. 79 Blundo, Giorgio, op.cit., pg. 23. 80 State Department Bureau of Democracy, Human Rights and Labor, op.cit., March 6, 2007. 81 Blundo, Giorgio, op.cit., pg. 15. 82 Amnesty International, op.cit., pg. 7. 83 Ibid, pg. 27. 84 State Department Bureau of Democracy, Human Rights and Labor, op.cit., March 6, 2007. 85 Amnesty International, op.cit., pp. 25-26.

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Ibid., pg. 26. State Department Bureau of Democracy, Human Rights and Labor, op.cit., March 6, 2007. 88 Torture (Le rapport accablant de la FIDH), Le Calame, September 13, 2007, http://www.lecalame.mr/content/view/861/27/, retrieved August 20, 2009. 89 Amnesty International, op.cit., pg. 34. 90 Ibid, pg. 24. 91 State Department Bureau of Democracy, Human Rights and Labor, op.cit., March 8, 2006. 92 State Department Bureau of Democracy, Human Rights and Labor, op.cit., March 6, 2007. 93 Campagne Mondiale pour la Liberté d’Expression, op.cit., pg. 22. 94 State Department Bureau of Democracy, Human Rights and Labor, op.cit., March 6, 2007. 95 Interview (#1) with Sidi Mohammed Ould Cheiguer, December 2007. 96 Interview (#23) with Abdelkader Ould Hamad, June 2009. 97 Interview (#18) with a noted human rights activist, December 2007. 98 Campagne Mondiale pour la Liberté d’Expression, op.cit., pp. 23–24. 99 Ben Ali, Abdallah, Les réformes les plus urgents, in Mauritanie: changement d’ère, Jeune Afrique, March 26, 2006. 100 Interview (#1) with Sidi Mohammed Ould Cheiguer, December 2007. 101 Mahfoud, Habib Ould, Une affaire de mur(s), Le Calame, N. 12, October 4, 1993. 102 Interview (#1) with Sidi Mohammed Ould Cheiguer, December 2007 and interview (#10) with Mohamed Saïd Ould Hamody, December 2007. 103 Interview (#10) with Mohamed Saïd Ould Hamody, December 2007. 104 Sang d’étudiants, La Tribune number 330, 27 December 2006. 105 Donald L. Horowitz, Coup Theories and Officers’ Motives, Princeton University Press, 1980, pg. 4. 106 Interview (#7) with Mohammed Yedhi Ould Tolba, December 2007. 107 Interview (#14) with a Mauritanian political analyst, December 2007. 108 Interview (#6) with Habib Ould Hemet, December 2007. 109 Interview (#4) with Prof. Ahmed Salem Ould Boubout, December 2007. 110 Interview (#6) with Habib Ould Hemet, December 2007. 111 Interview (#13) with a Mauritanian political commentator, December 2007. 112 Interview (#1) with Sidi Mohammed Ould Cheiguer, December 2007. 113 Les 24 engagements de la Mauritanie face à l’Union Européenne, Le Calame, April 12, 2007. 114 Interview (#13) with a Mauritanian political commentator, December 2007. 87

6 The Puppet Presidential Candidate

The electoral campaign inaugurated in late 2006 was the crucible in which the CMJD and its civilian partners in civil society showed their true colors, revealing the previously hidden nature of Mauritania’s “democratic transition.” Adapting to major changes in the political superstructure, old power elites found paths through which to reconsolidate their dominance. The junta’s members were to later reveal that they, too, were not immune to the allure of personalized power. CMJD interference in the upcoming elections was to be facilitated by the connivance of opposition politicians, who, in exchange for power, were not opposed to perpetuating the junta’s role in politics and Vall’s presidency beyond that duration originally pledged, or to becoming Abdel Aziz’s stalking horse. The pathos of the transition lay in how the process and its consequences were never unavoidable. While its leverage was finite, Brussels was not compelled to accept the military’s intervention in the electoral process. Its electoral observers rendered the EU the final authority on the validity of Mauritania’s elections, and thus Nouakchott’s standing with the Western partners upon which it depended. Rather than implicate their diplomacy further, the AU, Washington, and the European capitals delegated oversight of the democratic processes to Brussels, which in turn decided not to resist the colonels’ machinations. Those charged with overseeing the elections fulfilled the strict requirements of their mission, nothing more, while the rest of the international community did not demand further accountability. Ultimately, the EU had legitimated a manipulated election in the eyes of the international community. Its decisions perpetuated the domination of an officers’ clique in the guise of democratic rule, and setting into motion a series of events that would return to haunt all concerned only sixteen months later. Instant democracy’s ingredients were unpalatable enough. The final product was to prove disastrous.

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Subverting the Transition

During its nineteen-month transition, Mauritania went through no less than seven elections, in which Mauritanians were consulted through the polls in five separate iterations and the political class elected the country’s senate in two separate rounds. After receiving the public’s endorsement of their plans in the June 25, 2006 referendum, the CMJD’s transitional government held municipal and legislative elections on November 19 and December 3, 2006. As soon as municipal electors were elected, they in turn elected the country’s senators on January 21 and February 4, 2007. Once parliament and regional representatives had been elected, the presidential elections could proceed, with the first round taking place on March 11, 2007, and the two finalists contending on March 25. At first glance, the election was an unmitigated triumph, and was certified as such by no less than those who had assisted in its preparation and had observed it, namely the EU. But the well-managed polls and the laudatory statements surrounding them concealed deep and serious flaws that imperiled, rather than crowned, Mauritania’s democratic process. Though the CMJD promised to observe strict neutrality, few Mauritanians believed that the officers within the CMJD were impartial during the electoral process that riveted the country from the fall of 2006 to the spring of 2007. As they accommodated themselves to the full extent of their power, the two dominant figures at the head of the CMJD, Colonels Vall and Abdel Aziz came into conflict over how to proceed, especially regarding their relinquishment of power. If Lord Acton’s 1887 dictum that power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely now appears almost trite, the CMJD’s example underscored that power is addictive as well as corruptive. The intensity of speculation over whom exactly the military favored was matched by the difficulty in verifying competing claims. Yet the political manipulations of the CMJD are crucial to understanding the late-transition electoral process. In an environment where rumors take on a life of their own, through their effect on the decision-making of political actors involved, as well as on the public, some reports are noteworthy despite their tenuousness. Furthermore, in a political culture where ethnic, tribal, and familial alliances are primordial, any work of scholarship is negligent if it does not highlight these alliances. A complete understanding of the maneuvers that characterized the Mauritanian electoral campaign in the months of September 2006 to April 2007 is beyond the scope of this study, if not unknowable. But

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tracing the contours of the election’s maneuverings is at once possible and essential. Undue Influence

When asked about allegations of CMJD interference in the elections, Habib Ould Hemet stated categorically that no orders had ever been issued to subvert the process or favor one candidate over another, but that certain elements within the junta may not have followed its commitments to the letter.1 Others responded more pragmatically. “Who could be neutral in such an election?” one commentator asked, rhetorically.2 The CMJD was evenly divided between Ahmed Ould Daddah and Sidi Ould Cheikh Abdallahi, but “Sidioca” eventually won out due to his personality, according to this account. Ahmed Ould Daddah originally appealed to many in the CMJD because his figure alone – that of the uncompromising opposition leader and would-be arch-nemesis of Taya, who had imprisoned him numerous times – could assure the world that the transition process was unmistakably genuine. Ultimately, tribal reasons proved his downfall, for as a southerner and an Ould Daddah his candidacy alarmed many Easterners who assumed he would favor his own. Ould Daddah also came to inspire fear among the ranks of the CMJD, as the officers anticipated that once he came to power he would not hesitate to purge them. His addresses stirred mixed emotions; as the CMJD’s favored candidate, he was perceived to have supported the transition. Once he was out of favor, his tone changed markedly. Here again, the CMJD presented a divided front, as entire tribes may have voted for him on the urging of some CMJD members.3 As he grew into his role as the public face of the CMJD, Colonel Vall’s ambitions and confidence grew by leaps and bounds. Unsatisfied with fronting a figurehead civilian leader, however malleable, by September 2006 he began efforts through several different channels to obtain a docile parliamentary majority that would demand an extension of the CMJD’s mandate, and perhaps even support the colonel’s prospective presidential candidacy. A series of furtive meetings began with the leaders of various independent political machines and constituencies, of whom many were politicians linked to Taya’s PRDS and now unaffiliated with any of the major parties. The colonel believed he could tap the political power of independent politicians and resurrect the power of the now-splintered former ruling party.4 In a later interview, Ahmed Ould Daddah accused members of the CMJD of having sought to tamper with the electoral process all along. The

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opposition leader confirmed that Vall had met with numerous independent politicians, upon whom he was counting to recreate the PRDS system.5 Vall conspired, however, without informing even the closest of his fellow junta members. His dangerous liaisons could not go unnoticed indefinitely, and when the inevitable transpired his machinations provoked the first internal crisis of the CMJD’s existence. In a contentious meeting the main members of the junta decided against Vall’s behavior. One participant, representing the corporate interests of the military, observed that the Army was fundamentally isolated from society and could not afford to engage in these sorts of machinations; to do so was tantamount to playing with fire and he had no desire to see the Army self-immolate. To the furthest extent possible, the Army had to avoid these entanglements, and Vall had to desist.6 For Colonel Ould Ghazwani, one of the top three leaders in the coup, such a betrayal of political parties was a blunder, a major deviation from the junta’s public commitments to political neutrality with potentially disastrous implications in the foreign arena. He was not necessarily opposed to this in principle, but thought it a thoroughly rash and tactically unsound maneuver. Such attempts would be better conducted in keeping with the desires of the junta’s political allies and with greater discretion. BASEP commander Colonel Abdel Aziz concurred with Ould Ghazwani, and counseled Vall to this effect.7 In spite of these sentiments, Vall persisted for yet another week in his audiences with politically unaffiliated potential allies, only two weeks before the municipal elections.8 Frantic, according to this account, a deputation of three colonels approached the junta leader and demanded that he cease and desist. He promptly acquiesced.9 The legislative and municipal elections of 2006 were initially disappointing to those who had hoped to co-opt the democratic process. The opposition Coalition of Forces for Democratic Change won a large majority. The political alliance did not take kindly to the officers’ meddling, and in an open letter to international organizations accused the CMJD of interfering in the electoral process and of backing a candidate through the use of politically powerful proxies.10 Vall was exceedingly worried that the democratic process was spiraling out of his control, especially since the traditional levers of power had jammed. The old ruling party networks perfected by Taya were self-regenerative. They perpetuated power through power in the acceptance of Taya’s victories as faits accomplis, his disbursement of patronage, and personal leadership. Traditionally these networks had mobilized large numbers of voters through the trickle-down process of

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patronage from local political leaders to their followers and the desire to ingratiate oneself with the winning side. Vall’s attempts to revive the moribund network as yet had failed to mobilize the customary following, perhaps because the hesitation of many within the CMJD and the junta’s general lack of unity were widely known.11 The persistent colonel did not concede defeat, however. Beginning in early January 2007, Vall initiated an attempt to woo larger political parties, which he judged had more credibility in the eyes of the public and the international community, to his side. As an intermediary he sent former Foreign Minister El Hacen Ould Lebatt incognito during the late evening to negotiate with Ahmed Ould Daddah and Mohammed Ould Maouloud in parallel. Arguing that an immediate transition to democracy would be perilous for the country, Ould Lebatt proposed dissolving the CMJD and replacing it with a government of national unity, wherein Vall would remain president. This national unity government would remain in power for the next two years.12 If Vall clearly wished to prolong his tenure, he was aided by most opposition politicians, who actively courted the favors of CMJD members attempting to win their support and with it the presidency.13 According to these accounts, both opposition leaders jumped at the bait. Ahmed Ould Daddah proposed several conditions of his own. First, a second political party would acquiesce to the maneuver. In addition, Vall would not stand for election, and would name Ould Daddah prime minister and heir apparent. Lastly, this regime would only be in place for an additional year. Ould Maouloud was the more cautious of the two, insisting that the question be brought to a political forum and discussed. The maneuver stalled, and Vall persisted by sending another emissary, this time a senior officer in plain clothes, to visit the two presidential candidates as well as a third likely candidate, Haratine politician Messaoud Ould Boulkheir of the People’s Progressive Alliance (APP). Warning them that the military leadership was increasingly preoccupied by the state of public affairs and the multiplicity of candidates seeking the presidency, the emissary demanded the main political parties either approve of a single candidate or fall behind Vall. Counting on internal dissension, Vall likely hoped that his ultimatum would intimidate the fractious politicians into falling in lockstep behind him. He was mistaken.14 Ould Daddah and Ould Maouloud defused the ultimatum by claiming that the internal positions of the military were beyond their purview. Ould Boulkheir, either by design or default, was out of town and unable to take the officer’s call, but instead had one of his deputies

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meet with the junta’s emissary. He refused to respond, but instead went public with his account of the aborted meeting.15 Faced with the collapse of the initiative, Abdel Aziz was quick to respond. He ensured that the minister of foreign affairs responded with an adamant denial, and convoked a meeting with Vall. Facing off with an unrepentant Vall, Abdel Aziz firmly brought the CMJD’s nominal leader back to the junta’s line, reiterating the necessity of maintaining appearances and the CMJD’s adherence to outward neutrality and the electoral calendar.16 Electoral reforms

Legal and procedural reforms were among the few gains of the transition process which the EU Electoral Observation Mission could justifiably hold as durable and significant achievements in its report. The establishment of a National Independent Electoral Commission (CENI), for example, augured the beginning of autonomous institutional structures to safeguard democratic electoral practices.17 Presidential term limits were added, and the commitment of transitional authorities not to stand for election added considerable credibility to the process, though as the unfolding elections revealed did not prevent interference. The introduction of quotas guaranteeing minimum numbers of female candidates in parliament and municipal councils was a notable advance. Parties were required to advance a minimum number of female candidates for these positions during the 2006 and 2007 elections. Though only one party was led by a woman, in the first round of voting, the 20% quota was met.18 Enforced despite opposition from the leadership of the country’s political parties, these measures allowed women to gain 19% within the National Assembly and 30% of municipal councilors – progress that was unprecedented in Mauritania and in the Arab world.19 Seemingly simple measures had marked differences on the outcome of elections, such as the introduction of a single ballot or variations in how ballots were tallied. National ID cards with biometrics that had been issued beginning in 2000 prevented multiple voting.20 Merely establishing valid voter registration was a herculean undertaking in such a vast and sparsely populated country. At least 200,000 eligible voters did not possess a valid ID. Of an estimated 1.3 million voters, only 984,423 had been initially registered.21 Under the Taya regime multicolored ballots served as a key procedural element of election rigging by intimidation, for colors varied according to candidate. Those voters

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whose ballots were of the wrong hue could be certain that their vote was known. The First Round of Elections

From the day he had announced his candidacy on July 4, 2006, Abdallahi had appeared on the surface an unlikely candidate. Born in 1937, he had served as a cabinet minister under Moktar Ould Daddah beginning in September 1971. Amid the July 1978 coup Abdallahi was arrested. In exile, he worked for several years as a financial advisor to the Kuwait Fund for Arab Economic Development before returning to Nouakchott and serving Taya as Minister of Energy and then of Fisheries from early 1986 to September 1987,22 when he was arrested for suspected corruption linked to fishing licenses and imprisoned with two colleagues.23 Little is known of the affair, but he was released and left the country for Niger, where he again worked for the Kuwait Fund from 1989 until 2003.24 Soft-spoken and unfailingly courteous, Abdallahi was generally considered upright despite his stint in prison for corruption. Through his service under Moktar Ould Daddah in the 1970s, “Sidioca,” as he was known familiarly, could boast of some senior experience in a government known for its relative probity. Given that he had spent much of his career abroad, with brief spells in prison at the orders of various military governments, he had had little chance to compromise himself or make enemies. Unsurprisingly, he was little known in the country after years of absence. With no apparent involvement in exile politics he could count upon no political following. Further, the presidential candidate was nearing his seventies, and would only be able to complete one five-year term. In essence, he was a quintessential Bidan candidate for leadership, a relatively weak figure who most assumed would be malleable to their uses. That he was also a cousin of Vall’s by marriage did not harm his standing with the junta leader,25 while his acceptability to Abdel Aziz and his supporters rendered him the junta’s ideal compromise candidate. Abdallahi easily received the support of the Al Mithaq Alliance as well as the United Democratic and Social Party (PUDS), together with funding for his campaign, during which he meekly called for “responsible change.”26 Though the public widely believed him to be a proxy for the military,27 he nevertheless received 24.80% of the vote in the first round of presidential elections, placing first.28 Trailing Abdallahi with 20.69%,29 Ahmed Ould Daddah might well have been surprised at the showing of his previously unknown

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opponent.30 Abdallahi and Ould Daddah shared similar profiles, economists who had served as ministers in the 1970s in the cabinet of Ahmed’s half brother. Neither appeared destined, or even naturally suited, for the pitiless role of politician, but were instead drawn into politics by external forces and opportunity. Exiled throughout the 1980s, Ahmed Ould Daddah had served as an international civil servant, before Taya’s façade of democratization required presidential elections and credible candidates. Ould Daddah found himself drafted into the role in 1991, going on to contest Taya’s coronation in 1992 and his policies for the next decade. The 1992 presidential election, widely considered as blatantly rigged, haunted him for those ten years. Embittered by what he considered a stolen presidency, the eternal dissident would demand the boycott of subsequent elections, fracturing the political party he had built with considerable difficulty, the Union of Democratic Forces (UFD), into splinter parties such as the Progressive People’s Alliance (APP) and the Union of Progressive Forces (UFP). Shortly thereafter, Taya banned his party. Stints in prison would also ensue, fashioning Ould Daddah’s legend as the dictator’s constant opponent. But the party re-emerged phoenix-like, as Taya’s repression only strengthened opposition, while Ould Daddah’s stints in prison at the end of the 1990s and his uncompromising stance won him acclaim. By the time Taya was overthrown by his own henchmen on August 3, 2005, Ould Daddah was the assumed frontrunner. As the presidential elections advanced at the end of 2006, Ould Daddah could even consider himself the military’s candidate.31 Other candidates rose to prominence. Only forty years old at the time, Zeine Ould Zeidane was the youngest candidate, a rarity in an election dominated by politicians whose tenure stretched to the Moktar Ould Daddah administration. A trained economist who had served under Taya and then the transition government as governor of the Mauritanian central bank, Ould Zeidane was credited as a competent technocrat by many, but also found himself criticized for his association with Taya. He found a base among the SAWAB party, traditionally Baathist in outlook, as well as among independents and local political figures in the eastern regions. Coming in third in the first round of presidential elections with 15.28% of the vote, he threw his support to Abdallahi in the second round.32 While the top three candidates in the 2007 presidential election originated in the Bidan establishment and claimed to represent, as Taya had before them, both reform and a degree of continuity, even those campaigning against the establishment were strongly linked to current elites. All but two of the top six candidates were independents,

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highlighting the weakness of traditional political parties. The EU electoral monitoring commission took relatively little note of the destabilizing effect of independent parties, which were able to challenge the four largest parties, though they were unable to achieve a majority of seats in parliament. The sheer number of independent lists alone prevented an absolute defeat of organized political parties, as these lists nullified one another in some constituencies. Unsurprisingly, the Rally of Democratic Forces (RFD), the Union of Progressive Forces (UFP), the People’s Progressive Alliances (APP), and the Republican Party for Democracy and Renewal (PRDR), affirmed their strength.33 That said, the four largest parties combined controlled only thirty-seven of ninetyfive seats in the National Assembly. That independent coalitions working outside traditional opposition parties had won a plurality of seats, however, spoke to the power of these independent political groupings, whose loyalties lay only with their leaders rather than with any firmly enunciated ideological or principled platform. The three candidates who occupied the next three rungs, however, hailed from very different backgrounds and represented dissident constituencies. Messaoud Ould Boulkheir was born in 1943 into a Haratine family. Long associated with the rise of political consciousness among Haratines, he became the first Haratine governor, as well as the first cabinet minister from the former slave caste. Boulkheir commanded opposition credentials as the founder of Action for Change, a political party Taya had banned, as well as the loyalty of the APP. Though he garnered only 9.79% of the vote during the first round presidential election, with five national assemblymen his party became the fourth strongest in parliament, offering him a platform34 he would use with considerable effect later. Just as Boulkheir was synonymous with Haratine activism, Ibrahima Moctar Sarr was deeply involved in Afro-Mauritanian political movements. Born in the southern town of Boghé in 1949, he had been behind the 1986 release of the “Manifesto of the Oppressed AfroMauritanian,” which had seen him condemned to five years in prison. After his early release in 1990, he became a founding member of the UFD the following year. A decade later, he was elected to parliament as the secretary general of Ould Boulkheir’s Action for Change. In the 1997 election the ethnically Peul Sarr was one of only two AfroMauritanian candidates, receiving 7.95% of the vote.35 Of all the candidates, Saleh Ould Hannena’s background was most atypical. He had risen to national prominence following his leadership of the 2003 and 2004 coup attempts, as the head of the clandestine antigovernment faction known as the Knights of Change. His turns of

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fortune were numerous, as a rising Army officer, a cashiered tank commander reduced to driving a taxicab, the defiant leader of coups and dissident groups, and finally politician. Released from prison and amnestied following the August 3, 2005 coup along with all other inmates deemed political prisoners, he had promptly created the HATEM party, whose platform consisted of an admixture of Arab nationalism and Islamist creeds. In the 2006 National Assembly elections HATEM won three seats, and with the support of the five national assemblymen associated with the Reformist Centrists, a coalition of Islamists, Ould Hannena’s stature belied his 7.65% showing at the ballot box.36 A Junta Divided

By the end of January, Vall realized that absent a miracle his rule would inexorably come to a rather disappointing end. That he had publicly supported Taya’s former petroleum minister, Zeidane Ould Hmaida, imprisoned for embezzlement and freed at his insistence, had not endeared him to many voters, though some saw this as a typically Mauritanian gesture of little import.37 He attempted to make his own fate, with a desperate last-minute gambit. If he could not garner sufficient control over presidential candidates or maintain his presidency through the politicians, he would seek to ensure that none of the candidates could be elected with a clear margin of victory, and prolong his rule by default. He would do so by instituting the requirement that the winning presidential candidate garner an absolute majority in second-round elections, and then in a nationally televised speech encouraging voters who did not feel enchanted by either second-round candidate to cast blank ballots.38 On Saturday, January 27, 2008, Vall delivered the speech favoring this interpretation and calling upon unsatisfied citizens to vote for neither candidate in the second round. This would have included all blank ballots in the final tally of votes, allowing for neither of the two candidates contending the runoff election to receive a majority, and thus preventing the Mauritanian Constitutional Court from proclaiming a president. Some interpreted the colonel’s appeal as an attempt to motivate voters and ensure the legitimacy of the outcome and the mandate of the victor.39 Most interpreted the call differently. Opposition to the Machiavellian maneuvering was immediate and uncompromising. Vall’s machinations had exasperated most and for Abdel Aziz this was the last straw.40

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The notion of disqualifying both presidential candidates was unprecedented even in the long history of pseudo-democratic regimes throughout the world. Livid, Abdel Aziz cornered Vall and demanded he immediately rectify the situation. For evident reasons, Abdel Aziz thereafter began spending his nights at BASEP headquarters. Within forty-eight hours, Vall announced that he would not run for any elected position until after the presidential election. Within a week, the council of ministers approved of clear electoral guidelines whereby blank ballots would not be counted during the second round, and the election of a president assured.41 But it was evident that only Vall’s retraction and a new decree clarifying which votes would be counted as valid had prevented a crisis within the heart of the junta.42 Thus, Abdel Aziz prevented Vall from carrying through on his brazen attempts to subvert the elections, in a confrontation that nearly tore the CMJD apart. Abdel Aziz’s motivations could not have been stronger: he and other officers within the junta had thrown their lot in with Abdallahi’s campaign and invested considerable support and funding behind the candidate. Abdallahi’s age prevented him from running for a second term and though a cousin of Vall’s, the candidate was also related to Abdel Aziz’s through his wife, Khattou Mint Boukhary. Just as he chose the presidential candidate, Abdel Aziz selected candidates for parliament, relying on assets and loyalists from the Taya era. Mindful of their interests, and the consequences they would face, most chose the winning candidate.43 Abdel Aziz intended to elect a puppet and become president himself after one term. Vall, on the other hand, wanted to immediately torpedo the election. But Vall lacked the support of combat units, unlike Abdel Aziz who for the past fifteen years had led BASEP, a unit indulged by a “security obsessed Taya.” In this unevenly matched power struggle Vall had no choice but to surrender44 to Abdel Aziz’s threats.45 Interviewed on French radio only days after the August 2008 coup, rather than demanding his interviewer rephrase her question, Abdel Aziz admitted that he had “openly supported [Abdalllahi] at the time.”46 Two months later, the serial coup maker unrepentantly confessed to having supported Abdallahi during the 2007 presidential campaign.47 Despite the inherent limits of applying models from business to political analysis, if Mauritania’s governance can be analyzed as a market where forces of supply, demand, and market agents interact, then these models bear relevance to the examination of the competitiveness of that governance market. In his 1979 examination of competitive forces, “How Competitive Forces Shape Strategy,” Michael E. Porter focuses upon the five forces that shape the competitiveness of a market.

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Porter argues that competitiveness is the product of rivalry within an industry, which in turn is influenced by the bargaining power of suppliers and customers and the threats of new entrants and substitute products. Similarly, Mauritania’s leadership was caught between the competitive forces of international democratic demand from aid donors and domestic democratic demand among a universally discontented populace. The 2003 attempted coup highlighted the threat of new entrants by coup and their substitutes for governance, consisting potentially of radical ideology and a complete overthrow of the status quo. Entrance barriers rested precariously on the weight of repressive measures that only furthered democratic demand, and in consequence new entrants who wished to rule were in no short supply. In Mauritania’s case, internal rivalry within the “industry” that was Mauritanian government had only increased as Taya remained inflexible in the face of these five powerful forces. His consequent removal from power and correction in favor of democratic demand can thus be explained as the product of competition between different actors within the “marketplace” of government. Individual junta members and CMJD chief Colonel Vall were quite receptive to the siren call of personalized power. But internal competition within the junta, combined with external and internal pressures for accountability, prevented any single contender from monopolizing the political process, and compelled instead all within the CMJD to heed their previous commitments. Though this model risks oversimplifying a complex and incomplete process, it offers an explication of the dynamic forces behind Mauritania’s transition. Fixed Outcomes

During the first round of voting on March 11, Abdallahi received 24.80% percent of the vote, ahead of Ahmed Ould Daddah at 20.69%, Zein Ould Zeidane at 15.28%, and Messaoud Ould Boulkheir at 9.79%.48 Ould Zeidane threw his support behind Abdallahi on March 17, reinforcing the candidate in the face of Ould Daddah, who counted upon considerable stature attained over years of opposition to Taya as well as a tested political machine. During the entire transition, only one televised debate was held. On March 22, 2007, following the first round of presidential elections, Abdallahi and Ould Daddah faced one another in a live debate, broadcast simultaneously on Mauritania television and radio, as well as on Al Jazeera, in a notable first. Yet the candidates did not challenge one

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another, and the debate was markedly staid. A debate of ideas was almost entirely absent, as observers frequently remarked. Ideas as such concerning how the country should be led were only to be found in the written press, though many outlets chose candidates and favored them in their coverage.49 Instead, the contest was based almost entirely on personality and factional interests. Ould Daddah’s confidence in the military proved illusory, of course, for the Abdel Aziz faction within the CMJD had other plans. On March 25, “Sidioca” won the second round of presidential elections with 53.85% of the vote.50 Ould Daddah placed second with over 47% of the vote. He could only have experienced the April 2007 elections as yet another lost presidency at the hands of the establishment.51 Abdallahi was sworn in as president on April 19, 2007, the second civilian to have received such an honor in the country’s history, and the first to have been elected in multiparty elections. The event provoked triumphant reactions among proud Mauritanians, who were aware of the import of these elections far beyond their borders. Many took a measure of pride in Libyan leader Muammar Qadhafi’s angry outburst that Mauritania’s democracy was “a farce and a laughingstock.” In the absence of senior-level representation from Arab League nations at the presidential inauguration, other journalists wrote proudly that their successful elections had “aroused anxiety among certain totalitarian regimes,” which feared Mauritania’s “contagious democracy.”52 Some came to believe that for all the many flaws, their presidential elections actually constituted a model for the rest of the Arab world. Such acclaim would be short-lived, however, as the coverage emanating from Nouakchott came to focus on the manhunt for Al Qaida sympathizers rather than what had been hailed as the country’s historic gains in its democratic development. There was no ambiguity as to how Abdallahi had been elected. Asked by a French journalist about the election some eighteen months afterward, Abdel Aziz confessed to interfering in the election along with other officers in favor of Abdallahi. “It’s true that we supported Sidi” the general admitted. “He was our candidate.” “There was no ballotstuffing in 2007,” a diplomat admitted a year later. “The vote was exemplary. But in a country where tribes and clans still structure society, the military was able to weigh in to make Sidi, who was virtually unknown to Mauritanians, win.”53 Having mistakenly elevated Mauritania’s elections on a lofty pedestal, the world had only worsened its eventual fall.

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Mixed Conclusions

A central tenet of faith among democratization skeptics held that endemic poverty rendered Mauritania’s democracy an unaffordable luxury. Yet those most deprived proved themselves most inclined to express their free will, rejecting the existing neopatrimonial system through the ballot box in numerous instances, and rejecting extremists. Despite the CMJD’s efforts to manipulate the electoral process, voter participation reached record levels, substantiating hopes of a strong internal demand for democracy that transcended the subversion of elites. The preconceptions of Mauritanians as wholly tribalistic and disinterested in democracy were dramatically disproven. Participation rates hovered at over 70%, far in excess of those under Taya. And the demand for social change was such that the tribal chieftains who ran for office were defeated everywhere, as new entrants to politics offered voters greater hope for change. In the 2006 parliamentary elections in the central mining town of Zouerate, for instance, a Peul from a village in the south and a former street cleaner, Abdoulaye Wane, defeated his former employer, Zeidane Ould Boumeida. The scion of a prominent local family and the wealthy chief of a powerful tribe, Boumeida had served as minister of petroleum under Taya, and been linked to the Woodside scandal. Ironically, the aristocratic Boumeida had previously fired Abdoulaye.54 Noteworthy as well was the diminishing regional and ethnic influence in the 2007 presidential elections. The three candidates who fared best in the first round managed to draw on appeals that largely transcended ethnic, tribal and regional loyalties. Longtime opposition leader Ahmed Ould Daddah benefited from his strength in his native Trarza region, but also was preeminent within Nouakchott, which while situated within the Trarza region was more politically-oriented and home to all of the country’s subgroups. Zeine Ould Zeidane received votes both in the northern Adrar but also throughout the Eastern regions. Abdallahi was defeated within Nouakchott but scored well throughout the country. Messaoud Ould Boulkheir clearly benefited from ethnically-based support, as he did well in areas with large concentrations of Haratines throughout the country.55 A casual comparison of the vote tallies, however, with the rough demographic break-up of the country proves that in receiving less than ten percent of the vote Ould Boulkheir did not benefit proportionally from the number of Haratines. The successes of the National Assembly and municipal elections in particular bolstered confidence in Mauritania’s democratic

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processes and in the common voter, and weakened extremists. Arab nationalists of all persuasions, from Baathists to Nasserists and proLibyan factions were uniformly decimated, winning neither deputies nor mayors, though the moderate Islamists did obtain a political presence, and some would argue a stake, through the ballot box.56 The Baathists failed to obtain 2,000 votes in any constituency, and black nationalist parties floundered in their southern strongholds. Lastly, once Islamists were able to campaign and run candidates for election their perceived power faded, and they ultimately succeeded in gaining only five seats in the National Assembly and electing three mayors. The persecution they had suffered in the past had generated the groundswell of public sympathy and solidarity that they had counted upon in the polls; once that persecution was lifted, their support faded. What was most striking was that after twenty-nine years of military rule, within ensuing waves of Marxists, Arab nationalists, Islamists, and military officers of all persuasions, the two prime contenders in the second round of presidential elections both were civilians, economists and respected technocrats, and fellow ministers in the cabinet of Moktar Ould Daddah, the first civilian president. Mauritanians sought the just mean and rejected extremist temptations.57 Mauritanians, it has often been reiterated, are fundamentally pragmatic. Rather than finding solace in radical ideologies, they seek tangible material gains and a recognizable improvement in their living standards. This very pragmatism is what worries some observers. The same pragmatic Mauritanian character that had seen through the mirages of the past’s ideologies, from Marxism to Arab nationalism, risked dismissing democracy as another flawed and illegitimate theoretical framework if what had been labeled democracy failed to substantively improve their lot and reign in the abuses of the powerful, but instead continued to be associated with economic decline, mismanagement, and pervasive corruption. Some genuine progress beckoned. The EU found no evidence of interference in the voting process through the biased delivery of food aid.58 No strong evidence appeared that the presidential vote itself had been subverted in the polling stations. Though the fact that Ould Zeidane was the third-polling presidential candidate with a following certainly did not hurt his cause with the president, the nomination of the technocrat for Prime Minister was a welcome change to previous practices. The nomination of Ould Boulkheir to be speaker of the National Assembly was a historic occasion, as it was the first time that a Haratine had been elevated to such a position. Another major improvement was in transparency. Commentaries on fiscal matters were

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publicly available thanks to the State General Inspectorate (IGE). During the 2005-2007 transition the official press became less of a propaganda organ and more of a reliable source of reference. The feeling of freedom permeated the air, and more importantly the intense demands for freedoms prevailed. Some attributed this to cultural factors in Moor society, arguing that despite their communitarian pretensions desert nomads were profoundly liberal and individualistic, given their relative freedom from central authority and the hostile environment in which their self-reliance ensured their survival.59 The institutionalization of the opposition’s role in the political discourse and governance was but one of the benefits derived from this process. Whatever gains were made were attained in spite of the CMJD’s machinations through both domestic and international pressure. And the transitional government proved so exceptional because its civilian members were temporary political actors, who unlike others did not seek to esconce themselves in their portfolios. The Final Verdict

The most influential arbiter of the elections was also the power that had proven so decisive in their organization and monitoring, the European Union. The EU election observation mission was emphatic in its support. “The municipal, legislative and presidential elections of 20062007 marked the completion of a successful transition process towards the implementation of new, legitimately elected institutions and constituted a historic step in the democratization of Mauritania’s political life.” According to the EU observers, after decades of autocracy, the electoral reforms implemented – at the EU’s instigation, they might have added – and in particular the creation of the National Independent Electoral Commission made conditions ripe for pluralistic elections and alternating power. Their report credited the Ministry of the Interior with administering the elections effectively and impartially, and in a pluralistic and serene atmosphere as well.60 Yet the election observers conceded that the strengthening of civil society, the privatization of television and radio and effective campaign finance reforms, in other words, the very bedrock of a pluralistic modern society within which democracy could flourish, remained “undertakings for the future.” Revealingly, the mission noted the need for the creation of administrative rules and procedures for the recognition of political parties, of which many had mushroomed while others had not been recognized. If only in passing, their report also mentioned the sudden entry of independent candidates and questions over the impartiality of

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the transitional government. However, no direct reference was made of suspect campaign finances and military interference in their summary. Instead, the report commended the transition authorities for committing to a consensus-based and transparent transition process, beginning with the October consultation sessions or “days of dialogue” and thus preceding its commitments to the EU in November 2005, before setting an electoral timeline, which it “scrupulously observed.”61 Left entirely unstated was the provenance of campaign funds at the source of inequality between contending candidates. “The elections themselves proved exemplary, with little trafficking in voter cards and no proof of fraud for the Westerners.”62 Accordingly, the EU electoral monitoring mission endorsed all four elections in addition to the preliminary referendum, considering the elections to be a landmark in Mauritania’s progress towards democracy. That the elections were in form transparent and therein constituted progress was undeniable. Fatefully, however, no mention made of the interference of the military and former Taya supporters in elections. Oblique references to the role of independent political formations were all the commission’s final report would concede. In the absence of any qualification of its election endorsement mentioning interference, the electoral observers disregarded the most significant aspect of the election. The mission permitted those who had not followed Mauritania closely to erroneously conclude that the elections were valid and that the transition process had by and large succeeded. The Tyranny of Low Expectations

Just as the CMJD members feared a successful repeat of 2003 when plotting the 2005 coup,63 they feared the results of elections that were beyond their control, and sought to manipulate the electoral system. Colonel Vall failed in his inept attempt to subvert the democratic process because of public outcry, not the efforts of the opposition. And when a rival faction of the military created Abdallahi’s candidacy, many in the opposition enthusiastically signed onto the effort. These two narratives best demonstrate the lack of change in the country’s elites, whose motivations do not point towards reform but who rather constitute the principle impediment to reform. Regardless of the results, elements of the military would benefit from the election. Vying elements had supported and undermined both candidacies, and the military held such sway that it had little to fear from either. Through its indefatigable support the Abdel Aziz faction had made its creation Mauritania’s lauded and democratically elected president.

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And in certifying an election that had been manipulated by the military based solely on the absence of transparent electoral fraud in the polls, the EU in particular lent the elections an undue aura of credibility. Brussels certified the outcome when only the electoral procedures and technical means, as opposed to the campaigning and fundraising, had been transparent, falling prey to the trap laid by the CMJD junta. Having served during one pseudo-democratic regime, whose elections, tolerated media and civil society had all served to bestow credibility to what was fundamentally an autocratic system, Taya’s former apprentices had far surpassed their master. Not only had they brought the international community to underwrite and supervise the election, but by not directly subverting the election the military had managed to bring Brussels to stamp the election and thus their candidate with the EU seal of approval. Further, once the EU approved the elections, the United States joined in trumpeting the elections as a model for other developing states. “Mauritania was the worst example in the world, and they made us a role model.”64 The machinations behind the elections were the main congenital defect that doomed Mauritania’s future as a sustainable democracy. “The Westerners cared mostly for stability, and were sorely mistaken in believing that with time a democratic system would triumph.”65 They “knew there was manipulation, [so] there’s joint responsibility.”66 “Political parties and the international community both closed their eyes. Everyone could verify that Abdel Aziz was campaigning in the BASEP headquarters. The international community applied double standards between Ely [Ould Mohamed Vall] and his call to vote for “none of the above,” and Abdel Aziz; they saw Ely coveting the presidency without seeing in Abdel Aziz’s manipulations the desire to prepare his presidency.”67 At the time, however, most preferred to focus on what had been accomplished. In 2007, the political class had agreed upon a shared falsehood with the cognizant representatives of the international community. Many Mauritanians were not altogether discontent, believing they had obtained the best they could. “The 2007 elections [were] relatively miraculous, despite Abdel Aziz’s control through the notability and lawmakers, who gave him their support in exchange, and the not terribly honorable accord between Sidioca and the soldiers.”68 “We democrats were happy with the principal of one man, one vote.”69

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Interview (#6) with former minister Habib Ould Hemet, December 2007. Interview (#10) with Mohamed Saïd Ould Hamody, December 2007. 3 Interview (#14) with a Mauritanian political analyst, December, 2007. 4 Interview (#16) and documents from a Mauritanian dissident, December 2007. 5 Interview (#2) with Ahmed Ould Daddah, December 2007. 6 Interview (#16) and documents from a Mauritanian dissident, December 2007. 7 Ibid. 8 Interview (#1) with Sidi Mohammed Ould Cheiguer, December 2007. 9 Interview (#16) and documents from a Mauritanian dissident, December 2007. 10 Ibid. 11 Ibid. 12 Ibid. 13 Interview (#3) with Mohammed Fall Ould Oumère, December 2007. 14 Interview (#16) and documents from a Mauritanian dissident, December 2007. 15 Ibid. 16 Ibid. 17 Mission d’Observation Electorale de l’Union Européenne en Mauritanie 2006-2007, Elections municipales, législatives 2006 et présidentielles 2007, Rapport Final, Nouakchott, March 2007, pg. 6. 18 Ibid, pg. 52. 19 Ibid, pg. 34. 20 Ibid, pg. 37. 21 Ibid, pg. 38. 22 Official Presidential Biography, AMI, retrieved August 30, 2008, http://www.ami.mr/fr/biographie du president de republique.html. 23 APA, Sidi Ould Cheikh Abdellahi, ancien ministre de Ould Daddah et de Taya, February 25, 2007, retrieved August 20, 2009, http://apanews.net/ article.php3?id_article=22071. 24 Official Presidential Biography, AMI, retrieved August 30, 2008, http://www.ami.mr/fr/biographie du president de republique.html. 25 Interview (#16) with a Mauritanian dissident, December 2007. 26 Mission d’Observation Electorale de l’Union Européenne en Mauritanie 2006-2007, op.cit., pg. 19. 27 The presidential aspirant was compelled to call a press conference to deny the accusations. APA, Mauritanian presidential hopeful denies connivance with military junta, February 1st, 2007, retrieved August 20, 2009, http://www.apanews.net/spip.php?page=show_article&id_article=20190. 28 Mission d’Observation Electorale de l’Union Européenne en Mauritanie 2006-2007, op.cit., pg. 19. 29 Ibid. 30 Ben Yahmed, Marwane, Les vérités d’Ahmed Ould Daddah, Jeune Afrique, February 18th, 2007. 31 Wade, Béchirou, Ould Daddah, la grande victime ?, La Tribune, N. 450, May 26, 2009. 2

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32 Mission d’Observation Electorale de l’Union Européenne en Mauritanie 2006-2007, op.cit., pg. 19. 33 Ibid, pg. 66. 34 Ibid, pg. 19. 35 Ibid, pp. 19-20. 36 Ibid, pg. 20. 37 Interview (#10) with Mohamed Saïd Ould Hamody, December 2007. 38 Interview (#16) with a Mauritanian dissident, December 2007. 39 Interview (#7) with Mohammed Yedhi Ould Tolba, December 2007. 40 Interview (#8) with a Mauritanian human rights activist, December 2007. 41 Interview (#16) with a Mauritanian dissident, December 2007. 42 Mission d’Observation Electorale de l’Union Européenne en Mauritanie 2006-2007, op.cit., pg. 34. 43 Interview (#23) with Abdelkader Ould Hamad, June 2009. 44 Interview (#24) with Aboulaye Ciré Ba, June 2009. 45 Interview (#23) with Abdelkader Ould Hamad, June 2009. 46 Riviere, Manon, Mauritanie: Le général Abdel Aziz: “La démocratie en Mauritanie n’a pas échoué, RFI, August 10, 2008. 47 Tuquoi, Jean-Pierre, Les putschistes mauritaniens confortent leur pouvoir, Le Monde, October 6, 2008. 48 Mauritanie - Election Le conseil constitutionnel proclame les résultats du premier tour de l'élection présidentielles du 11 mars 2007, Nouakchott, March 15, 2007, AMI. 49 Mission d’Observation Electorale de l’Union Européenne en Mauritanie 2006-2007, op.cit., pp. 47–51. 50 Résultats du deuxième tour de la présidentielle au plan national, Le Calame, March 30, 2007. 51 Wade, Béchirou, Ould Daddah, la grande victime ?, La Tribune, N. 450, May 26, 2009. 52 Lav, Daniel, New Mauritanian Democracy Inspires Arab Liberals and Unnerves Arab Autocrats, But Some Mauritanians Complain of the Race Card, MEMRI Inquiry and Analysis Series No. 348, April 26, 2007. 53 Tuquoi, Jean-Pierre, Les putschistes mauritaniens confortent leur pouvoir, Le Monde, October 6, 2008. 54 Interview (#22) with Mohamed Fall Ould Oumère, June 2009. 55 Mission d’Observation Electorale de l’Union Européenne en Mauritanie 2006-2007, op.cit., pg. 66. 56 Interview (#5) with Béchir Ould El Hassen, December 2007. 57 Interview (#3) with Mohammed Fall Ould Oumère, December 2007. 58 Mission d’Observation Electorale de l’Union Européenne en Mauritanie 2006-2007, op.cit., pg. 48. 59 Interview (#3) with Mohammed Fall Ould Oumère, December 2007. 60 Mission d’Observation Electorale de l’Union Européenne en Mauritanie 2006-2007, op.cit., pg. 5. 61 Ibid. 62 Interview (#24) with Aboulaye Ciré Ba, June 2009. 63 Interview (#1) with Sidi Mohammed Ould Cheiguer, December 2007. 64 Interview (#26) with Dr. Mohamed-Mahmoud El Hacen, June 2009. 65 Interview (#23) with Abdelkader Ould Hamad, June 2009.

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Interview (#22) with Mohamed Fall Ould Oumère, June 2009. Interview (#26) with Dr. Mohamed-Mahmoud El Hacen, June 2009. 68 Ibid. 69 Interview (#22) with Mohamed Fall Ould Oumère, June 2009. 67

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7 The Gathering Storm

The five French tourists had finished their business in Aleg around noon. Once having left the southern town’s outskirts they decided to stop at the side of the road, presumably for a picnic. An adventurous band, they had just withdrawn several hundred euros’ worth in cash, with which they intended to make their way on a grueling trek through Mali to Burkina Faso. In this respect they typified the adventure tourists on whom Mauritania counted for the development of its nascent tourism sector, experienced travelers attracted rather than dissuaded by the lack of tourist amenities in the country’s interior. As they arranged their meal a four-wheel drive vehicle quickly approached them and stopped close by. Its occupants emerged to confront the tourists. Before they could answer, the assailants drew automatic rifles and fired volleys at the helpless foreigners, killing four and leaving the fifth Frenchmen – a father who saw his sons shot to death before his eyes – for dead. As quickly as they had appeared, the attackers vanished.1 The Jihadist Threat

Al Qaida in the Islamic Maghreb’s attack near Aleg was but the first of a chain of challenges that befell Mauritania immediately after its transition to electoral rule. It was to be followed by a second AQIM attack against Mauritanian soldiers and the controversial cancellation of the ParisDakar Rally, important to the country’s image and tourism sector, on grounds of the AQIM threat. Even before the attacks, a food shortage related to the global inflationary crisis had sparked unprecedented unrest in the country’s interior, while the inability of the incoming civilian administration to assert strong leadership during the November 2007 riots or even to complete the nomination of its political appointees in the year following its election led many to see the government as fiddling while the nation burned. Every crisis that could have beset the country did within the period of a few months. Doubts emerged over the

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leadership abilities of the president and prime minister, while the country’s unshakeable plagues of corruption and nepotism reigned. The nature of these crosscurrents offers a glimpse at a decidedly less glamorous aspect of the country’s transition, from the euphoric phase to the muted but essential drudgery of daily governance and incremental reform, underscoring the challenges that confront nascent democracies. Terrorism posed perhaps the most tangible threat to Mauritania’s democracy, not only in the threat that Islamist fundamentalism posed to the government but in that towards its democratic principles engendered by the collateral damages of the fight against terrorism. After Al Qaida fighters attacked a Mauritanian garrison near El Ghalliya on December 26, 2007, a frantic manhunt from December 27 to 28 resulted in searches of private homes and businesses and damage to private property.2 Criticism quickly turned on the military, which was “underpaid, poorly fed […] and given no room for maneuver.” By one account, the commander of the garrison under attack did not pursue the terrorists because he was not given permission to do so.3 But critics focused most of all on the new government. Coming in the wake of riots that led to the death of an adolescent in the central town of Kankossa, electricity and water outages in Nouakchott, and the poor handling of flooding in the town of Tintane, some rhetorically asked whether Mauritanians had voted for chaos.4 The public escape of terrorist ring-leader Sidi Ould Sidina, who allegedly fled from the bathroom window of the main court in Nouakchott with the assistance of accomplices. His escape humiliated the country’s police force, as did their ineptitude in the ensuing nation-wide manhunt.5 Nor did a follow-up attack within Nouakchott on the Israeli embassy and an adjacent nightclub frequented by Westerners improve the government’s credibility.6 By May the state security police had arrested thirteen suspects behind the Aleg attacks and sent them before the Nouakchott prosecutor’s office.7 Sidi Ould Sidina’s simple self-description best conveyed what he and his fellow prisoners represented: “I am a young Mauritanian. I have a message. I work to spread it. I work to apply Allah’s law. I am a soldier in the Al Qaida organization. I work to consolidate the application of Sharia law, to raise the banner that “there is no God but Allah,” to impose upon Muslims to take only Muslims as allies and as enemies the crusader unbelievers.”

As he stood trial for the killings of four French tourists in Aleg on Christmas Eve, 2007, Ould Sidina remained unrepentant, though he

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faced the death penalty. He rationalized the killings by claiming his victims were French intelligence agents, part of an alliance that in his words “fights in Muslim countries [and] kills brothers […] and children”, in “Iraq and Afghanistan.” By the same token, he took care to dissociate himself from the bandits who plagued Saharan trade routes and affirmed that his group and Algerian salafists were one. Indeed, the unity of jihad, from Afghanistan to Iraq, ensured its resilience in his eyes. Ould Sidina further claimed to be acting within Islamic just war theory, having killed neither “women nor children,” nor “burnt fields.”8 Asked why he became a Salafist fighter, he responded simply: “because I saw how Osama Ben Laden acted and I saw how the Americans violated the integrity of Muslim women in Iraq.” His hatred was not only directed against the West, however. “I am against dictatorial generals who command the country and refuse to apply the Law of Allah. I will fight until they return to the Law, or they die […] I don’t see any place for this dialogue. Mauritania’s government is a tyrannical regime, far from the Truth, and we, we want to sow the word of Allah […] We want a Muslim [Islamist] state that applies Allah’s Law as defined in Allah’s Book and the Sunna [sayings] of his Messenger […] And everything but that is false.”9

When questioned as to whether salafist jihadism had ended with his incarceration and the killing of several jihadist leaders, the prisoner casually dismissed his interviewer’s premise. “Al Qaida doesn’t end this way. Al Qaida is a spirit and a message first. Then it’s a structure that takes form in entire generations of warriors. Didn’t they say the jihad would end with the death of Zarqawi? Zarqawi’s dead and the jihad continues. The blood of our martyrs doesn’t flow in vain […] generations will follow until the application of Allah’s law is decided.” During the entire trial, what had most shocked him was the presence of policewomen who in his opinion were immodestly dressed. Before his interpellator left him, he asked Sidina what his fondest wish was. “To die as a martyr,” the prisoner flatly stated.10 Though his words might have been those of a young zealot engaging in political theater, they reflected the beliefs of a radicalized minority within a minority. While such radicals might not number beyond the hundreds, their zeal combined with their manipulation by groups dedicated to pursuing the fantasy of a new Caliphate rendered them a menace far more significant than their numbers. No longer could one deny the threat from AQIM, nor dismiss the group as a reincarnation

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of Algeria’s Islamist terrorist factions with an entirely Algerian focus, as its attacks in September 2008 gruesomely underscored. Most worrisome, its operatives now included Mauritanians operating within territories they knew well. Among them was the first known Mauritanian suicide bomber, Sidna Ould Khattari, who went by the nom de guerre Abu Zeineb and in 2008 blew himself up in Algeria. Khattari was only one of at least five Mauritanians fighting with AQIM to have been killed.11 AQIM further underscored its presence in public awareness when it claimed to have kidnapped two Canadian diplomats, Robert Fowler and Louis Gray, only twenty-five miles outside of Niger’s capital, Niamey. Rather than demanding a considerable ransom, a means through which it had filled its coffers before, the terrorists demanded the release of two prisoners from a Sahelian country. Speculation centered on two Mauritanians arrested and imprisoned in Mali, Tayeb Ould Sidi Ali and Hammada Ould Mohamed Khairou.12 Ould Mohamed Khairou was allegedly an alumnus of AQIM’s predecessor organization’s training camps, who intended to use his paramilitary training to fight alongside insurgents in Iraq.13 These native-born jihadists were only the reflection of the many social ills that afflicted the country, from extreme poverty to the failure of the educational system, unemployment to peer pressure and involvement in Islamist groups. In a country known for its tolerant form of Malekite and Asharite rites of Sunni Islam, some were quick to respond that this was the result of entirely imported ideologies. More self-critical commentators, however, argued that a puritanical, theocratic tendency was present at the creation, driving Almoravid tribes to invade what became Mauritania and establish their own beliefs with themselves as its guarantors. In murdering Frenchmen, the jihadists sought to appropriate the narrative of anti-colonial resistance and reenact the assassination of Xavier Coppolani, the father of colonial Mauritania, by a member of an anti-colonial Islamic brotherhood.14 Islamism in Mauritania

As with other currents of political thinking, Islamism came late to Mauritania. Islamism had developed in Egypt in the 1920s in reaction to the end of the Ottoman Caliphate and encroaching Western modernity. In Mauritania, at independence in 1960 there were only two high schools and five Mauritanian students abroad. Modernity remained distant, and thus there was little demand for jihadism in reaction to it. Mauritanian Islamism began just before the 1978 coup d’état, among traditionalist teachers, some of whom had been educated in the

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Middle East. Their causes were the application of Sharia, the Muslim bedrock of the state, and sympathy with Islamist movements beyond Mauritania’s borders. Their sentiment took form in the Islamic Cultural Association, which became the framework for the Islamist movement in the country.15 In the early 1980s, the politically isolated and deeply devout junta chief, Mohamed Khouna Ould Haidallah, enforced Shariah law and in particular corporal punishment, declaring: “Islam is the sole source of the law.” Sharia temporarily became the only form of law, an interlude for a parallel legal system where Sharia and secular jurisprudence based on French law coexisted. This period came to an abrupt end with Taya’s coup in December 1984. Taya was a former schoolmaster who had joined the military, been trained by the French and even married a relatively progressive Sunni Lebanese woman. His discourse was modernist and his outlook decidedly different from that of his predecessor. The colonel soon halted corporal punishment and the application of the death penalty. Yet he did not seek open conflict with the Islamists.16 The Mauritanian Islamists at the time remained a mere handful, mostly from tribes given to religious scholarship, but by the end of the 1980s they took an altogether different path, entering student groups and metamorphosing into a dissident movement. The time was propitious for political Islam. The Gulf states, particularly Kuwait and Saudi Arabia, spent generously on Islamists. “In 1976, there were five mosques in Nouakchott,” one academic recalled. “By the end of the 1980s there were mosques everywhere. The mosque was the organizational core because it was a space for community and good works. There, in a poor society, the Islamist movement became unavoidable.” Further, Islamist preachers were a far cry from traditional clerics. Men with university degrees and substantial charisma, they mobilized their congregations with their verve and their class-oriented discourse,17 one which recalled that of an earlier generation of Kadihine revolutionaries. The Islamists were only one of many concerns that drove Taya to the 1992 pseudo-democratization. During the presidential election an unrecognized Islamist political party, the Ummah (or Muslim community) party, supported Taya’s chief rival, Ahmed Ould Daddah. Taya dealt with the Islamists initially by drawing virtually the entire first generation of the Islamist movement’s leadership to the ruling PRDS. Beginning in 1994 the ruler confronted the stalwarts directly by closing the Islamic Cultural Association and related Islamist civil society groups, and by arresting their leaders. Driven underground in a bitter struggle with the autocrat, a new generation of leadership formed, among them present-day Tawassoul leader Jemil Mansour. Taya then

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proceeded to create an Islamic Council with the aim of defeating the Islamists on their own ground. When their persecutor was toppled, events far beyond Mauritania’s borders conspired against the Islamists. Funding for their activities from the Arabian Gulf has diminished, particularly in recent years. Perception of their associations with terrorism harms those Islamists dedicated to furthering their ideology in the political sphere alone. And traditional Muslim circles remain as hostile as ever to political Islam and Islamists. Though they remain a major force among students, Islamists have reached a political impasse, relegated to the single digits in elections.18 Indeed, the mainstream Islamists do not appear a threat in the eyes of all Mauritanians. “I don’t see the difference between moderate Islamism and Christian Democratic parties in Europe or civil religion in the United States. They expect people out of the 12th century to speak in reference to the Enlightenment, when in developed countries they reference the Bible daily. Obama himself is obliged to make daily references to the Bible.” In this optic “the moderate Islamists are another element of evolution: one should look at their proposals, without keeping score of how many times they refer to Allah, to see their contributions. We trap ourselves in false modernity if we focus on references to God or their absence.”19 One gray eminence within left-wing UFP also compared Tawassoul to Christian Democrats and argued that if Islamists accepted democracy’s rules, society could not afford to reject them. As long as they remained solely political and peaceful one had to struggle against them through the ballot box. “We don’t even know if they’re playing the game with sincerity, but so long as they are the game must be played, rather than holding elections as in Algeria, ignoring them if the Islamists win, and suffering twenty years of war.”20 Similarly, even some European policy-makers, having witnessed Western governments engaging with authoritarian Arab regimes out of a fear of Islamists, believe moderate Islamist parties should be trusted enough to be engaged, despite the existence of some radical Islamists intent on opportunistically taking advantage of the democratic system to take power definitively. Just as in post-war Europe the Christian Democracy movement was linked to the Catholic Church and other churches, they see no reason why there cannot be Muslim democrats in the same mold.21 Faced with the long-standing Arab political dilemma of autocrats or theocrats, other democratic political formations within governing coalitions hold the promise of moderating Islamists, while the desire to reach power itself may temper Islamist parties.22

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Islamism’s very relationship with modernity remained more complex than even Islamists themselves might admit, for the ideology at once offers a subconsciously modernist discourse and a reaction against modernity seen as a cultural invasion. Islamist political thought is a thoroughly modern conception of the total state, enveloping all aspects of society. Their vision is at odds with traditional Muslim leadership and its view of a state dedicated to preventing discord, balanced by an Islamic civil society. Therefore, Islamist theories from thinkers such as Hassan Al Banna and Sayyid Qutb failed to receive much acceptance in Mauritania. Traditionally, Mauritania’s Islamic teachers adopted a mystic, ascetic Sufi ethic that renounced opulence, was wary of appearances and embraced humility. That ethos has been eroded though the growing prominence of spiritual men who “transformed [their] spiritual capital into capital proper,” in keeping with the materialist ethic sweeping Mauritanian society.23 Another reason why Mauritanians generally rejected Islamism was that in its culture and practice of Malekite and Asharite Islam, liberal values such as freedom, individualism, freedom of expression, and tolerance existed in Mauritania traditionally, in addition to a form of separation of church and state.24 This form of proto-secularism first flourished in Mauritania from the 17th century onwards in the form of the emirates. These emirates separated temporal power, accorded the warrior tribes, from spiritual power, the preserve of the marabout tribes. Qutb’s totalitarian notion of Islamic governance in effect separated Islamists into two currents: radicals and those involved in politics. The Tawassoul party is an example of the later. Tawassoul – from the concept understood both as divine intercession and drawing nearer to God – bases itself on Morocco’s leading Islamist party, the Justice and Development Party.25 Radical Islam therefore held less appeal as a mass ideology than as the nihilistic rationalization of violent revolt by the desperate and the oppressed. “70% of the [ostensibly Marxist] Kadihines came from traditional schools. Human rebellions come from repression […] you can’t lead lasting social movements without underlying sociological factors”26 stemming from social iniquities. The most salient influence in the growing power of radical Islam in Mauritania was the discrediting of many mainline Muslim clerics. Their unhesitant rationalization of every political leader’s injustices, their disregard for the human causes behind social iniquities, and their apparent disregard for the plight of the poor, discredited all too many mainstream imams. Younger Mauritanians, particularly Haratines who had always felt shunned by Moor society, were left open to proselytism by radicals. In joining radical Islam, Haratine men and their Bidan

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compatriots at last could see themselves as equals and brothers in arms in a greater struggle. Moreover, through radical Islamism Haratines could claim to be fighting for a true form of Islam against their former Bidan masters. This vision galvanized a zealous minority of radicals driven by desperation. Though Abdallahi deemed Islamist radicalism within Mauritania marginal and foreign to local practices, and as much as Nouakchott claimed to be doing all within its legal power to capture the attacks’ perpetrators, considerable damage to the nation’s image followed. The Paris-Dakar Rally was cancelled due to terrorist threats against the event, depriving the country of revenues and tourism publicity. Its economy overly dependant on the extraction of natural resources, whose revenues went straight to state coffers, Mauritania hoped to develop adventure tourism to bolster its foreign currency reserves and win the country a positive foreign image.27 Discontent was all the more understandable given the apparent hypocrisy of the Paris-Dakar organizing committee’s decision. In previous years, local inhabitants had suffered from swerving vehicles that killed livestock and left villagers in their dust. The decision to cancel the rally, despite the efforts of the Mauritanian security services, suggested a double-standard that threats to participants were of greater importance to the organizers than the very real casualties and inconveniences the event annually imposed on locals annually.28 By going after a valued pillar of the economy, by tarnishing the nation’s reputation abroad, AQIM provoked a furor among Mauritanians and isolated itself from any support.29 By engaging in hit and run tactics, using the depth of the desert for concealment, and matching their strengths to the state’s weaknesses, AQIM had proven Taya’s undoing, given that it was his insistence on chasing ghosts in the desert that alienated him from his base within the security forces. Considered by the military to be at its heart an Algerian group, AQIM supported itself by smuggling contraband through a surprisingly well-traveled if empty section of the Sahara. Far more worrisome than the group’s core membership was the risk of young Mauritanians joining the movement, due to their discontent, unemployment, and purposelessness. In the threat of terrorism one officer saw not the intrinsic motivation of jihadism per se but instead the search for a motivating cause. The attackers were rarely the heads of terrorist cells or their sons.30 The attacks gave the president the chance to reshuffle the ranks of his military and security leadership, promoting more competent and more politically disinterested commanders to senior ranks.31 He did not

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avail himself of this opportunity. Instead, Abdallahi promoted the colonels who had put him in office to the rank of general – the first serving general officer in the country’s history.32 Abdel Aziz had been free to tailor a position to his ambitions as the personal military chief of staff to the president, with powers over the entire military and security establishment. His ally Ould Ghazwani took over at the head of the Army, while another stalwart, Félix Négri, became the commander of the National Guard, a civilian paramilitary force.33 This Faustian bargain allowed the government a measure of confidence in its security at the hands of the military’s most influential officer.34 Though Abdallahi expressed a preference for the protection of the Gendarmerie, and conjecture centered around BASEP’s dissolution,35 he could not escape Abdel Aziz’s viselike grip. Abortive Reforms

Incapable of extricating himself from his patrons, Abdallahi was also powerless in implementing urgently-needed reforms. In his presidential address on June 29, 2007, Abdallahi committed to continued, substantive reforms in the domains of human and civil rights, the electoral process, principles of constitutional democracy, justice, combating corruption, and social security. The letter of intent directed towards Prime Minister Zeine Ould Zeidane offered similar, lofty goals. The Prime Minister was to reinforce national unity and social cohesion, further human rights, work towards the eradication of the vestiges of slavery, institute comprehensive reform of the judicial system, promote economic and financial good governance, and engage in a struggle against corruption and poverty.36 The government initially made considerable headway in adopting progressive goals and allocating resources to them. The National Human Rights Commission (CNDH) selected respected members of civil society to its board to oversee reforms. The government decided upon the adoption of a national policy to combat domestic violence and female genital mutilation (FGM), with the goal of formulating legal provisions that would be integrated into the national penal and family law codes. It would then pursue public education campaigns so that these new norms would be internalized by society at large and eventually become part of the socialization process. Yet if laws can be changed by legislators with a mere vote, remaking society by changing norms is another challenge altogether, and unsurprisingly this remains an ongoing process.37

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Perhaps the most sensitive issue was formulating and implementing a participative national policy to combat the vestiges of slavery. The government’s multi-pronged strategy was confused and often contradictory. Its first goal was the reiteration and strict implementation of laws forbidding slavery, which had been on the books since independence and, long before, the beginning of the colonial period. But another goal was the adoption of yet another law repressing the practice of slavery. The government appeared adamant in its desire for consensus and thorough study, ordering diagnostic studies of the socioeconomic condition of Haratines, or former slaves.38 As with other studies initiated by the Abdallahi government, they were never pursued. The stumbling block remained the implementation of existing laws and directives, and the devil, of course, lay in the details. The issue of slavery, just as that of FGM, had long been recognized as injustices and broader societal problems demanding redress. Numerous edicts and initiatives had been directed to counter them. The struggle against these practices had been a part of the pseudo-democratic patina elaborated under Taya’s rule, conceived to demonstrate an enlightened, reformist attitude on the part of the government. What was required but always lacking was the will to generate social momentum to change these practices, and to apply the law to the letter, against the resistance of local elites and ultraconservative segments of public opinion.39 A basic law concerning civil society organizations, so as to facilitate greater freedom of association, was another promising reform. Concretely, these reforms involved the adoption of judicial texts defining the domain of civil society, the institutionalization of a contractual relationship between the state and civil society, and support for a unifying body for civil society. All promised to strengthen and clearly delineate the rights of civil society, protecting it from arbitrary interference.40 A cabinet-level appointee was named to oversee relations between the government and the political opposition and civil society. Another objective was updating an archaic electoral code, particularly in regard to the voting rights of overseas Mauritanians and ensuring equitable districting. To consolidate the electoral process, the government proposed the drafting and adoption of a new consensual electoral code. Building on the experiences of the National Independent Electoral Commission (CENI), these guidelines mandated a permanent, independent structure to oversee and elections, in conjunction with opposition parties and civil society. The government created a new ministry dedicated to decentralization and local governance.41 These goals were not novel, however. Decentralization was in fact almost as old as central authority itself, and the promise to devolve power to local

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governments was a twenty-five year-old slogan that had yielded few results, apart from empowering local chieftains.42 Reforming the justice system was yet another ambitious project, subdivided into two main axes. The first was a relatively straightforward amendment to the penal code that made a major difference in the rights of the accused. The code was changed so as to authorize the presence of an attorney from the very beginning of a suspect’s provisional detention, aimed at lessening the risk of unfair detentions, arbitrary arrests, and the extraction of confessions under duress. The second, more complex task involved restructuring the judicial system. As in many former French colonies, magistrates belonged to a corps of state functionaries that could be reformed only through a government General Policy Declaration. The same bureaucratic chain of command that rendered these civil servants vulnerable to executive interference also facilitated reforms. These reforms thus sought to reorganize, retrain, and secure magistrates’ independence from executive interference by decree.43 Abdallahi promised considerable reforms within the banking and transportation sector in hopes of promoting economic growth through protections afforded the private sector. New laws concerning banking, microfinance, and Mauritanian Central Bank (BCM) statutes so as to guarantee proper oversight of private banks were drafted. In an attempt to improve national infrastructure, a new institution to plan and manage the highway network was to be created. Highway maintenance was to be linked to decentralization and the allocation of greater powers to municipalities, and a new transport fund created.44 None of these efforts, however, reached fruition. Forging Reconciliation

The drama of the April 1989 “events” was replayed in the hearts of Mauritanian extended families, which had never obeyed an absolutist conception of race and whose members had found themselves on both ends of the struggle. Referring to a Bidan cousin implicated in the repression, one prominent official raised his personal dilemma: “how can I see him socially knowing that he had his comrades killed, and on false pretenses?” The longtime public servant himself attributed much of the blame to the decisions of the ancien regime.45 In June 1993 a blanket amnesty was declared for all crimes committed by members of the military and security establishment between June 1989 and June 1992, a timeframe encompassing the 19891991 massacres.46 The military and security forces, where many soldiers were Haratine and the majority of officers Bidan, had yet to address

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issues of race, let alone past crimes. Characteristic was one senior officer’s insistence that perceptions of ethnic tensions within a military were representative of a warped, foreign mentality that differentiated between individuals on the basis of their physical appearance. To a large extent, this is true in a country where one’s status is derived less from the hue of one’s skin than from the details of one’s patrilineal descent. Yet salient discrepancies in rank and status according to skin color remain. The skeptic who questions the notion that, as one officer would have it, “the open sore of 1989 is healing alone, indeed even more quickly in the military than in society at large,”47 can be forgiven. Thus the Abdallahi administration’s single-most successful accomplishment was initiating the repatriation and compensation of AfroMauritanian refugees who had been expelled during the ethnic violence of the 1989 “Events.” Many of these refugees had not set foot on Mauritanian soil for nearly two decades and had long lost control over their property. Some had been ranking civil servants within the Mauritanian government and technocrats whose skills were sorely needed. But aid was not always readily forthcoming. Assimilation of former slaves and their descendants in particular as full-fledged equals in society was even more challenging. In the village of Sawap, or “virtuous” in Arabic, hundreds of former slaves set up camp, seeking as much distance as possible from their former masters. Their lot was harsh, but not overly so in comparison to their fellow citizens given the dismal depths of living standards. Nearly half of Mauritania’s three million inhabitants had no direct access to potable water, and in October 2008 over 330,000 still suffered from malnutrition.48 The acute poverty that stymied most Mauritanians undermined efforts to raise formerly enslaved classes from their condition. Former slaves remained moored to former masters, given how few economic opportunities existed, and along with most of their compatriots remained left behind as the forces of globalization lifted millions in other developing countries out of poverty. Empty Stomachs

Like many African nations, Mauritania had long awaited debt relief, having contracted debts it could not repay and whose servicing detracted from vital needs.49 In 2001 under Taya the donor community had reticently allocated $350 million, and the regime’s credibility abroad had reached a nadir when it became apparent that the Mauritanian government had begun to convey fabricated figures to its donors. In the new context of Mauritania’s sweeping democratization the consultative

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group exceeded Mauritania’s requests by 50%, directing funds towards the country’s development program, in particular the strategic framework to combat poverty (CSLP).50 In early December 2007 meetings with some forty international lenders, including the World Bank, UNDP, and EU, Prime Minister Ould Zeidane received promises of $2.1 billion dollars to fund a multi-year development plan spanning from 2008 to 2010. Ould Zeidane presented this coup as a “message of support for a transitional government’s economic policy, a sign of confidence in our plan and in our ability to turn it into results.”51 But his triumphant declarations abroad were overshadowed by domestic disaster directly attributed to his economic management. The 2007-2008 food price crisis proved a calamity for the pursuit of the transition process and the solidification of democratic institutions and norms. In fairness to Ould Zeidane, the crisis was global and the government’s room for maneuver constricted. The causes of the crisis have been attributed to a host of factors, most saliently increasing demand from a growing middle class in Asia, fuel and fertilizer price increases, and even the increasing use of bio-fuels. Sky-rocketing prices of staples undercut support for governments throughout the developing world. Lower-income democracies were compelled to heed public opinion, but did not have the means to provide the subsidies that would temporarily alleviate pressures on the poorest of the poor. Mauritania’s neighbors suffered equally with the rise in food prices, as the price of a meal rose some 40% percent. In neighboring Senegal, some could only afford to eat one meal a day. Many in nearby Mali found themselves trapped when the price of feeding one’s family rose to $4 a day: most lived on between $1 to $2. From Cameroon to Cote d’Ivoire, food riots forced governments to move to further subsidize prices.52 Rice, a staple in the region, rose in price by an unprecedented 30% in the space of only two weeks. Those hardest hit were the urban poor, whose portion of revenue allocated to food varied from 60% to 90%, in contrast to the West, where only 10 to 20% of a household’s budget went to such expenses.53 Mauritanians were particularly hard-hit because land reforms had stagnated, leaving the country dependent on imports. Out of 130,000 hectares or roughly 321,000 acres, only 20,000 hectares or less than 50,000 acres were in use. And if the official yield was four to five tons of rice per hectare – nearly 2.5 acres – the real yield was closer to two to three tons, while better agricultural practices could have allowed two harvests per year and yields of six to eight tons per hectare. Thus a nation where rice was a staple and which could have been self-sufficient had to import rice at a time when prices were the highest in years. “In a

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country where there’s water, land and free hands there have been hunger riots,” one Mauritanian specialist lamented. “Most of what we consume comes from abroad.”54 Meanwhile, food prices sky-rocketed. Mauritanians had been assured that revenues from the mining sector would provide the seed money that would fuel economic growth and the establishment of government services.55 Yet half of all Mauritanians lived on less than 250 ouguiyas, or one dollar a day, a reality visible in the growing number of beggars crowding the capital’s thoroughfares.56 Their desperate poverty was all the more intolerable given that Mauritanians knew theirs to be a wealthy country in terms of resources, but one whose citizenry was pauperized. As one officer argued, with its resources and international aid, Mauritania was far from being a poor country. Instead, it was a mismanaged society where 5% lived in ostentatious opulence while 50% were under the poverty line and a quarter struggled just to survive.57 Where Ould Zeidane erred unpardonably was in his public reaction to the crisis, confidently declaring the state of the economy excellent only a few days before food prices skyrocketed. The dismissive official line emanating from an unresponsive government did not go unanswered. Public resentment exploded. In a previously inconceivable event, those Mauritanians in the interior who had generally been the least politically active and the most docile rioted in November 2007. Protesting food prices, they attacked symbols of authority more than they did shopkeepers. In the central city of Kankossa, one of many rural communities that suffered greatly but rarely expressed dissent, tragedy struck. After setting fire to the prefect’s personal residence and office, demonstrators attacked poorly equipped and trained police. Convinced the demonstrators would lynch them otherwise, the police fired into the crowd, killing a protester.58 Abdallahi was left with controlling the damage and assuring Mauritanians that relief would soon be forthcoming.59 The November riots illustrated the power of inflation and hunger, contrasted with the president’s weakness. Congenital Flaws

Mauritania is paradoxically more vulnerable to its presidency’s excessive powers than the weakness of its chief executives. Its presidential system owes much to conclusions drawn on the fragility of democracy and implemented fifty-years before. The culmination of Mauritania’s conquest in 1934 coincided with the February 6, 1934 riots in a France split between a left-wing government and a powerful extreme right. The riots forced a government’s resignation, marked the

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rejection of parliamentarianism by a growing number, and presaged the fall of France’s Third Republic after the Battle of France. After the chronic instability of the parliamentary regimes of the Third and Fourth Republic, France moved to a semi-presidential model under Charles de Gaulle in 1958. When it obtained its independence from a visiting de Gaulle in 1960, Mauritania emulated the strong presidential regime and the leadership de Gaulle incarnated in France’s Fifth Republic. Monarchism with republican trappings was inscribed in the Mauritanian constitution, notably in what could best be described as the president’s consubstantiality.60 Article 24 of the July 20, 1991 constitution stated that the President “incarnates the state.” This incongruous element of Christian theology embedded in the constitution of a self-declared Islamic republic presumably rendered the passing of office from one president to another an act of transubstantiation. But evidently the regular passage of office was not the constitution’s intent. The basic law elevated the president above his fellow citizens and the law itself, contradicting Article 4, which stated unambiguously that “the law is the supreme expression of the popular will. All are required to submit to it.” In essence, a constitution tailored to its genitor bequeathed exceptional powers to one individual, rendering Taya more than a man, beyond the law’s binds, and without any viable counterweight to check him. Its 2006 modification did not change this imbalance. For instance, while Article 99 specified that constitutional referenda initiated by parliament required a two-thirds’ majority in both houses, in addition to a simple majority of the popular suffrage, Article 101 empowered the president to change the constitution with a three-fifths’ majority of the combined legislature, both chambers of parliament united for that specific purpose. Essentially the president could modify the constitution whenever he secured large enough majority without consulting the people. In endowing the president with full executive power, the constitution’s guiding judicial philosophy most closely resembled a Mauritanian brand of unitary executive theory. In addition to encouraging autocratic tendencies, this regime-type gave considerable powers to the president and placed much emphasis on his personal leadership. Abdallahi’s could not have been weaker. Disillusionment

The state of grace accorded the newly elected government was soon a distant memory. Unable to work harmoniously with Abdallahi, Zeine Ould Zeidane’s government within ten months had been written off in many quarters as a disaster. Granted, the government had come into

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power in the context of enormous hopes and in the wake of a historic transition that elevated expectations even further. The inability, however, of the new administration’s members to complete a nomination process in a timely manner, much less to implement desperately needed reforms, was unpardonable in the eyes of their compatriots.61 The government had commenced inauspiciously in June 2007, with a severe budget crisis. The previous government was blamed for the disastrous state of finances, as well as over incoming Prime Minister Zeidane. Both the previous government and Ould Zeidane were blamed for having transformed through sheer legerdemain a budget surplus into a budget deficit.62 Yet the president also came in for blame for all manner of reasons, including being too virtuous and conscientious for his own good. Sidioca, as he had come to be known, was too weak, perhaps even too frank with the people in the estimation of many. Rather than treating Mauritanians paternalistically, as other Mauritanian politicians would have, he insisted upon candor, at the expense of provoking an uproar. When Nouakchott was faced with a series of crippling power outages that deprived much of the capital of running water, the president announced that the upgrading of the power supply would be a lengthy process that might take years.63 In this his dilemma is illustrative of the dilemma facing many leaders in emerging democracies, caught between a desire for transparency and the pressures generated by those that brought them to power. Dissension also plagued the relationship between the president and his prime minister. In contrast to the aging president, Zeidane came from a distinguished warrior family from the East, one with very different orientations from those of the marabout chief of state. A generational divide from the beginning strained their relationship, in addition to differences in familial origin and outlook. The ungainly pair was mocked for their unparalleled ability to understand and to surprise, the wise elder Abdallahi for his ability to understand situations, the younger Zeidane for his ability to be surprised by them.64 Zeidane’s days as prime minister decidedly were numbered. To further complicate affairs of state, the placement of highly competent technocrats with advanced graduate degrees and doctorates in economics did not necessarily signify that these appointees were politically gifted. Those technocrats already in place could count themselves lucky to have been named to their positions, however. Nominations came at a glacial pace, generating much criticism.65 Such criticism visibly grated on the increasingly embattled president, who attacked what he deemed the obsessive preoccupation of his fellow

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citizens with nominations, to the detriment of their ability to think towards the future.66 The nomination of officials considered corrupt or thoroughly unqualified for their posts fed discontent. Factors varying from crime to electricity outages and unseasonably hot weather were credited with fomenting anger toward a government accused of being unable to govern. One commentator quipped that the history of Mauritania could be summarized as its colonization for decades by the French, independence in 1960, followed by colonization by its military in 1978, and finally in 2007 a measure of internal autonomy.67 In the first several months they presided, Mauritanian parliamentarians fared little better than the government. They were resoundingly criticized for promptly decamping to Nouakchott and losing feel for their constituencies once they were elected. Promises of transparency and openness to the concerns of constituents were ignored.68 Rebuilding the Ruling Party

The rebirth of a ruling party was particularly sensitive, given that many of its prospective members had been among Ely Ould Mohamed Vall’s accomplices. The question posed by many was whether the influence of Vall’s loyalists and former PRDS apparatchiks would come to dominate the party.69 Abdallahi was reticent about seeking membership in existing political parties, with their sinuous and complex histories and divided loyalties. Unlike the other main contenders, Boulkheir and Ould Daddah, he had not been the leader of a major opposition party, upon which he could have placed his personal imprint, and understandably he had even held them in suspicion. The president, like any chief of state, found over months of government that he required the political support of a ruling bloc, especially when his power was still transitory and powerful demands were placed upon him to consolidate the transition process, continue reforms, and improve the living standards of Mauritanians.70 Thus over time the emergence of a presidential-majority party was inevitable. That the president had governed for many months without one was uncharacteristic for Mauritania. In a nation emerging from a long twilight under the functional equivalent of a single-party state, the issue was understandably sensitive. The resurgence of a ruling party threatened to monopolize power and space in the political discourse, as it insinuated itself down to the lowest levels of government, as had the PRDS, the SEM, and the PPM before it. Particularly problematic was the emergence of a majority party centered on a sitting president and the

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exercise of power, rather than a platform of individuals and ideas with the popular sanction of an election. Thus when the National Pact for Democracy and Development (PNDD) materialized it was greeted with resistance in many quarters. Opposition leader and National Assembly President Boulkheir, most notably, expressed his staunch opposition to the return of a ruling party and disavowed the effort entirely.71 One civil society leader warned that if a ruling party on PRDS lines was resurrected, a new coup d’état would be needed. The edifice of democracy would have to be destroyed so as to save democracy.72 Attempts to institutionalize relations between the government and opposition in the form of a statute granting the designated representative and chief of opposition, Ahmed Ould Daddah, cabinetlevel rank, were overly facile. Though Ould Daddah had the right to be informed of government decisions immediately thereafter, he did not sit in the council of ministers, hold the right of review or have any consultative role over decisions. Still, the attempt at collegiality between government and opposition, visible in nationally televised meetings between the president and opposition and elsewhere in the media, demonstrated progress73 and a marked departure from the past, an attempt at strengthening the role of a loyal opposition in a functioning democracy. Ultimately, despite its successes in continuing the transition, its shortcomings in day-to-day governance proved too much for the government of Zeine Ould Zeidane. Successive failures and the lack of synergy between the chief of state and chief of government compelled Zeidane to present his letter of resignation on May 6, 2008. That very day Abdallahi nominated forty-eight year old Yahya Ould Ahmed El Waghef,74 a former professor, administrator, politician and head of the ruling PNDD, for the post.75 El Waghef’s nomination prompted opposition leader Ahmed Ould Daddah, leader of the Rally of Democratic Forces (RFD), and Ibrahima Mocktar Sarr, head of the Alliance for Justice and Democracy/Movement for Renewal, to withdraw from government. The immediate result was a resounding victory for El Waghef and the PNDD. The new cabinet marked a historical milestone, as it was the first time that Islamist politicians of the National Rally for Reform and Development (RNRD) or Tawassoul entered government. The group had become Mauritania’s main Islamist party under the able leadership of Jemil Mansour. Most notably, an RNRD minister was accorded the portfolio for Higher Education. However, following the withdrawal of major opposition parties, of the thirty cabinet-level posts,

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only four were accorded to the opposition. The immense challenges facing the new government, meanwhile, remained the same.76 Corruption

If corruption was rife under the Abdallahi regime, it had become endemic under Taya. Senior leaders embezzled vast sums with impunity, while civil servants could barely eke out an existence without turning to corruption. To the present day even the most talented Mauritanians working in government jobs earn too little to provide for their own families, much less their extended families. Low wages and inflation contribute to this condition. But two other factors explain why their salaries are always insufficient: very high unemployment and the persistence of the “cousin” system of extended family patronage. Wageearners are still expected to support members of their extended families, many of whom are unemployed and often have little incentive to seek formal employment, given the conditions and pay of available employment, in addition to the prospect of continued familial aid. As in most traditional societies, concentric circles of obligation bind Mauritanians to care for parents, siblings and cousins throughout their lives. Those blessed with talent or luck are obliged to share their earnings with their less fortunate relatives. The more talented and lucky one is, and the higher one rises, the greater the familial obligations. To Westerners, it might seem that these demands are as suffocating as they are inescapable. To Mauritanians, they are part of life. A European Commission report on the subject concluded that practically every civil servant, even the highest placed, is engaged in “parallel economic activities.” This euphemism covers everything from consulting, for higher-ranking public servants and university professors, to selling cell phone rechage cards on the roadside in the case of some schoolteachers. This quest to meet one’s needs led to the massive rate of work absenteeism throughout the government, but most notably in public schools.77 The official Mauritanian government report on corruption itself concluded: “many public servants used their powers as the sole means with which they could obtain reasonable living conditions.” Further, “just to satisfy their basic needs, civil service professionals are forced to work on the black market, to work two jobs, to use public goods to private ends, to [engage in] corruption, and [to join] an exodus of professionals towards the private sector.”78 Hence if modest remunerations offered a public servant in return for the most basic of services, known as the “tea price,” became banal, such payments were socially acceptable and bereft of pejorative moral

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connotations, for they were tied to social conventions that favored reciprocity in interactions, rewarding any favor if possible. The change demanded by policemen at traffic checkpoints throughout the country might be seen as a scandalous form of extortion, given their frequency, egregiousness, and the powers policemen wield. Some dismissed the practice as mere begging by underpaid junior public servants, more pitiable than outrageous. In addition, minor gift might also prove the beginning of a profitable relationship.79 From Bureaucrats to Plutocrats

“The Mauritanian state does not ensure a minimum of social services, but is rather a rentier state that maintains order, a jungle state where one reacts to care for one’s own interests.”80 Yet if Mauritanians suffered from a lack of basic services, this was not for a shortage of bureaucrats. To the contrary, the Mauritanian government’s own reporting even argued an excess of civil servants was among its problems, with eleven officials per thousand citizens in contrast to eight per thousand in Senegal.81 The nation’s largest employer, the state, employed nearly 33,000 civil servants by January 2007.82 A perverse illustration of Gresham’s law took hold, with the most venal corrupting the civil service as a whole. Order was impossible to enforce when a culture of impunity thrived and regulations went ignored, poisoning the work environment and encouraging abuses.83 Often the most incompetent or corrupt civil servants were the most difficult to discipline or fire, for they owed their positions to powerful family or tribal allegiances. Previously, under Taya’s patronage system, public firms such as Air Mauritanie were used to maintain electoral support. Political considerations forced the airline to distribute large numbers of free tickets, which were then reimbursed, bilking the company twice in a single step. Its foreign currency reserves were embezzled, while the company’s directors received consulting contracts through their parallel, private consultancy firms.84 In 2006 state salaries were evaluated at 60 billion ouguiya, or roughly $24 million, while slush funds allocated $40 million to miscellaneous expenses. This led to major budgetary distortions, whereby the annual upkeep of a ministerial director’s official vehicle was evaluated at more than his salary, and the recorded prices of identical office supplies varied wildly depending upon those in charge. In turn the public lost faith in government institutions.85 Public services were frequently auctioned to citizens by those charged with providing them. The EU’s report detailed egregious but commonplace abuses, such as the unavailability of forms in government

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offices with the exception of those sold by bureaucrats, “the sale of freedom to suspects in exchange for 50,000 ouguiyas [$200], officers of the court who demanded “fuel costs” so as to deliver a summons, the sale of driver’s licenses for 40,000 ouguiyas [$160] from falsified tests,” and demands for “service taxes” on shipping containers at the Nouakchott port during working hours, in flagrant violation of rules. Repudiating this deeply-engrained system of payment for public services entailed risking punishment from the authorities themselves.86 For when abuses of the system were uncovered, they were not punished, but rather manipulated towards personal ends. For instance, when goods passing through the port of Nouakchott were found that flagrantly contradicted the undervalued manifest, the local inspector threatened the importer not with punishment, but with fees that would exceed their value. Between the two, a compromise would be reached below the threshold of the goods’ real value and above what the merchant might otherwise have paid, in exchange for a payment to the customs inspector. Such a system inevitably punished the weak and the poor, who lacked the means or the connections to influence the system in their favor.87 The wholesale abuse of authority for personal gain at each and every level of responsibility commodified power. This commodification provoked a tailspin of nepotism and favoritism, particularly in nominations to lucrative positions, as tribes, factions, and patronage networks scrambled to have their members named to positions that oversaw government funding or that, while granting few budgetary perquisites, offered power over the distribution of services. So intense was competition that over time a natural equilibrium had to be reached between different factions vying for power, and nominees either owed their position or forged alliances with “traditional” Moor society.88 In this case the term “traditional” signified the neopatrimonial patronage networks assembled by powerful bureaucrats from the detritus of fragmented tribes. The very basis of the rule of law and the authority of the state was corroded by the availability of any good or service, regardless of its legality, for a fee. Criminal records were available for two dollars without even the inconvenience of visiting the courthouse. False baccalaureates – the secondary school examination degree that constituted the bedrock of the educational system – were hawked to students. Counterfeit vaccination certificates were available, along with tax documents, social security papers, and a host of other business documents which rendered creating a “briefcase company” or a “briefcase NGO” almost effortless. False license plates allowed for

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illegally imported automobiles to circulate easily at a time when terrorism was a real concern. Instead of reacting to the crisis, however, the police sought to turn it for a profit, regularly extorting those with verifiably fake licenses for bribes. The counterfeit culture was so thoroughly entrenched that an entire market for stolen and fake goods existed, where victims of theft were told to repurchase their lost and stolen goods by the very police they appealed to for assistance.89 In Mauritania, it seemed, anything was obtainable. A cognitive fracture between the real and counterfeit developed. The real came to be devailed, as reality was dictated through corruption by the power of the purse, provoking a crisis of values. The reign of the wallet sapped the moral grounding of social life by radically altering incentives, opportunity costs and values in such a way as to reward vice and punish virtue. One’s identity and one’s business were but a matter of payment. Motivating the young to sacrifice years of their lives and untold effort proved increasingly difficult when the diplomas such exertion might provide them were readily purchased in the marketplace, and their teachers themselves might have obtained their positions in such a manner. The honest were fools and the wheeler-dealers wily heroes in a “cheb-chab” culture that valued those who forged their own reality based on what they could convince others to believe. Given that one’s vaccinations were what the certificate one had paid for stated, even the public health system was not immune. Familial relations intermixed with clan and tribal solidarity protected the corrupt from moral censure. The corollary was thatit became unacceptable in many circles to criticize the corrupt members of another tribe, as one’s own counted just as many embezzlers. The result was a law of silence that prevailed, strengthened by social opprobrium of informants loosely conflated with religious teachings against denunciation. The resulting worldview saw corruption itself as a viable redistributive system correcting historical injustices, allegations of which were useful to the extent they served as a political tool to justify removing rivals from power. Behind the abuses, a parasitic neopatrimonial elite flourished on corruption, burrowed deep within the body-politic. This privileged class proved remarkably adaptable, feeding off development assistance, and perversely transforming each successive wave of international aid into a lucrative business. When the development of civil society became the latest passion of Bretton Woods institutions, new opportunities appeared. When government was fatally compromised by endemic mismanagement, local civil society through small NGOs working at grassroots levels promised local solutions to local problems at a human

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level, without the embezzlement, mismanagement, and bureaucratic inertia of government. Innumerable NGOs flowered, responding to the new deluge of foreign funding, and perpetuating the profitable commerce of a rentier elite dependent upon development aid.90 Many of these organizations were veritable business enterprises organized through family networks of senior civil servants in power, attuned to the changing dynamics and paradigms of development-oriented organizations. These “briefcase NGOs” existed only on paper and siphoned funding towards their creators, away from genuine Mauritanian NGOs. A cottage industry grew on aid money. Later still, those behind these paper NGOs would branch into GONGOs, or government-organized NGOs, when it became necessary for the government to demonstrate support within civil society. The unabated reign of corruption underscores what has almost become a truism: democratic development is impossible without the rule of law. The necessity of law, applied to all equally, recalled the first two lines of a poem by Baba Ould Cheikh, a celebrated 19th century Bidan poet: Be a helper for God, and censure what is forbidden, And turn with the Law, which He wants you to follow

In 1960, the poem was chosen as the lyrics for Mauritania’s national anthem. Opposing Abdallahi

Freedom of the press deteriorated within only months of Abdallahi’s election. In mid-August, 2007, two incidents shook the press. When Mohamed Mahmoud Ould Moghdad, a reporter for the state-run Radio Mauritania, attempted to return to the conference room of a hospital during a visit by P.M. Zeine Ould Zeidane, Zeidane’s bodyguards refused him entry and beat him despite his presentation of press credentials with a government news service. As one NGO commented, “the security forces have little enthusiasm for according any respect to the press.” Repeated attempts to file complaints, complete with proper documentation, were ignored by prosecutors, as was HAPA’s condemnation.91 The State Inspectorate General, after launching an investigation into the assault and bringing itself into a potential confrontation with the highest echelons of government, precipitously withdrew. Simultaneously, First Lady Khattou Mint Boukhary took

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newsman Sidi Mohamed Ould Ebbe to court for libel. The editor of the private Arabic-language daily El Bedil Athalith was charged with defamation on August 18, 2007, for two articles that charged that Boukhary had used her position to seek funding for her eponymous charitable foundation. Tellingly, only recourse to “clan loyalties” allowed for a negotiated compromise. 92 For those without tribal connections, matters could be graver still. The publisher of Al Houriya, a private Arabic language weekly, was arrested by plainclothes policemen in an unmarked car and detained for thirty hours, before being charged with libel for his criticism of the Senate deputy speaker’s participation in Israel’s celebration of its 60th anniversary.93 When journalists accused judges of corruption, they were promptly jailed and mistreated during their detention. Neither their colleagues’ protests outside the courts nor their hunger strikes mollified authorities, and the end of the reporters’ incarceration came only with that of the Abdallahi administration.94 This campaign against the press focused attention on Abdallahi’s wife, Khattou Mint Boukhary. A powerful figure in her own right, with a charitable foundation that bore her name and social circles at her disposal, she provoked polarized reactions. The second of Mauritania’s civilian presidents suffered the handicap of a wife deemed too influential for the country’s good,95 just as had the first. The press viewed it as well within its rights to question the lack of accountability behind “KB’s” NGO, by virtue less of her position as first lady and potential influence on matters of state than what wealth she might extract from her position.96 The clash saw the affirmation of a corporate press identity. But the unequal struggle resulted in a considerable decline in press freedom relative to the heady days of the 2005-2007 transition. Along with the press, political parties and trade unions attempted to assert themselves, making some concrete gains in engraining themselves within society. Political parties proliferated, with eighteen new groups bringing the total number of parties to fifty-six. The most noteworthy was doubtless Tawassoul, which managed to draw support from neglected and previously disengaged lower classes as well as from the traditionally politically active student body and educated professionals. Leveraging itself primarily on public demand for severing diplomatic relations with Israel, the party’s foreign platform included demands for reestablishing broken ties with the Economic Community of West African States and a domestic focus on greater morality within government and the fight against corruption.97 Opposition leaders met with the president on October 8, 2007, to express their dissatisfaction

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over the political immobility of his administration98 but left mostly unsatisfied. In response, the five main opposition parties began meeting to coordinate their positions and join forces in opposing the president’s party.99 Meanwhile, the country’s reforms were quickly slipping. Meeting a year after Abdallahi’s election, the National Order of Mauritanian Lawyers decried the loss of press freedoms at the hands of the executive branch. Invoking the arrests of journalists critical of Abdallahi’s entourage as well as interference with the judiciary, the association accused the executive of turning the judiciary into an instrument of its power.100 The president was criticized for using his influence to favor the interests of his wife and her foundation. For many, the foundation amounted to nothing less than the overt and wholesale extortion of the country’s political and financial elite, the First Lady’s personal shake-down. As the poor clamored for relief, and the parliament for power, the president leisurely embarked on a series of state visits, taking with him his wife and daughter, whom he had named an advisor to the presidency. Though corruption continued, some to the contrary charged that there was less embezzlement under Abdallahi than under Taya or Ely.101 “Abdallahi’s entourage doubtless isn’t praiseworthy,” another expert, an advisor to an opposition party argued, and “they continued the same practices, placing their relatives in high positions.” Yet Sidioca’s corruption had nothing to do with the parliamentary rebellion: those who waxed grandiloquent against corruption were the most corrupt.”102 Within the political class, opposition included much score-settling by politicians who felt themselves marginalized under the Abdallahi government.103 If too much was made of corruption under Abdallahi, what grated the public was the presence for the first time of a public ruling family that flaunted its excesses. Behind the conspicuous displays of luxury by Abdallahi’s family, the Taya system survived. Charitably, some attributed prevalent corruption to a generational divide. Though managing Mauritania’s massive youth bulge posed the greatest challenge to their government, this generation of leadership had no understanding of their country’s youth. Instead, they remained locked in a self-referential realm where their generation’s morality and mentality blinded them to the materialism that animated their inner circles.104 A simpler explanation was that leaders realized that their circles’ loyalty derived from tangible rewards. They had compromised on principle in the belief that they had to reach power to make any substantive change. In the hopes of emancipating himself from his military guardians, Abdallahi flirted with the UFP and the Islamists. Abdel Aziz

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and his loyalists were furious and together with allied lawmakers broke Abdallahi’s government within three months. Facing a parliamentary coup and investigation, the president abandoned his alliance with the UFP and the Tawassoul party.105 Abdallahi’s attempts to escape the military leadership’s grasp only further alienated the generals. In the wake of the worldwide food crisis, ensuing inflation, and AQIM attacks, he faced a perfect storm and fiddled. And yet he dismissed the concerns of parliamentarians, who initiated an investigation of his wife, while releasing criminals against the advice of the military. Two of whom proceeded to shoot to death four Frenchmen at Aleg in late December 2007. By July 2008 tension had reached its apogee, and lawmakers within the president’s own party threatened to pass a motion of censure. Facing censure, his government was compelled to resign on July 3. Yet the president seemed in no mood to accommodate the rebellious parliamentarians, despite the creation of the third government of his presidency, then barely more than a year old. On July 30 he rejected their motion for an extraordinary session of Parliament on grounds of technical irregularities. This manifestation of arbitrary presidential power, which violated the spirit of the constitution if not its letter, infuriated parliamentarians, who called for a massive demonstration on August 10.106 By Monday, August 4, forty-eight lawmakers from the ruling party resigned, prompting a political crisis. These parliamentarians acted with the full support of the military high command, according to certain observers, which refused to be sidelined from affairs of state.107 With the support of the military and security establishment, the opposition might have brought Abdallahi to compromise with the country’s legislative and judicial branches or to resign. Such a denouement would likely have been acclaimed as the strengthening of Mauritania’s democratic system and welcomed by the country’s aid donors. Though serving the desires of the military leadership, it would also have reflected the will of most Mauritanians and in that respect not altogether dissimilar to color revolutions throughout the former Soviet bloc.108 It was not to be.

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1 Le Calame, Assassinat des quatre français à Aleg: Sur les lieux de l’opération éclair, January 2, 2008. 2 Seck, Ahmadou, Dégâts collatéraux de la traque des terroristes au Sénégal, Le Calame, January 2, 2008. 3 Ould Cheikh, Ahmed, Après Lemghaity et El Ghallawiya: A qui le tour ?, Le Calame, January 2, 2008. 4 Le Calame, Les Mauritaniens ont-ils voté pour la chienlit ?, January 2, 2008. 5 PANA, Mauritanian Police Blunder in Tracking “terrorist suspects”, April 10, 2008. 6 Seck, Ahmadou, Attentats islamistes à répétition: Effet de mode ou lame de fond ?, Le Calame, February 5, 2008. 7 Seck, Ahmadou, Attentat d’Aleg: Chabarnou et Cie en détention préventive, Le Calame, February 5, 2008. 8 Translated interview by the Mauritanian Arabic-language newspaper Al Akhbar, Ould Idoumou, Rabi, Entretien exclusif avec l'assassin présumé de Français touristes en Mauritanie, La Tribune, N. 450, May 26, 2009. 9 Ould Idoumou, Rabi, op.cit. 10 Ibid. 11 Wade, Bechirou, Terrorisme : BAQMI étend son champ d’action, La Tribune, February 25, 2009. 12 Châtelot, Christophe, Le Niger est confronté à la présence d'Al-Qaida, Le Monde, February 26, 2009. 13 Wade, Bechirou, Terrorisme : BAQMI étend son champ d’action, La Tribune, February 25, 2009. 14 Ould Meyne, Mohameden, Le djihadisme: une fracture identitaire ?, Le Calame, January 29, 2008. 15 Interview (#21) with Prof. Seyyid Ould Bah, University of Nouakchott, June 2009. 16 Ibid. 17 Ibid. 18 Ibid. 19 Interview (#26) with Dr. Mohamed-Mahmoud El Hacen, June 2009. 20 Interview (#24) with Aboulaye Ciré Ba, June 2009. 21 Interview (#32) with an EU official in Brussels, April 2010. 22 Ibid. 23 Interview (#21) with Prof. Seyyid Ould Bah, University of Nouakchott, June 2009. 24 Interview (#22) with Mohamed Fall Ould Oumère, June 2009. 25 Interview (#21) with Prof. Seyyid Ould Bah, University of Nouakchott, June 2009. 26 Interview (#26) with Dr. Mohamed-Mahmoud El Hacen, June 2009. 27 Meunier, Marianne, Un trek au Sahara, in Mauritanie: changement d’ère, Jeune Afrique, March 26, 2006. 28 Doggett, Gina, Paris-Dakar rally brings 'little but dust', Senegalese villagers say, Agence France-Presse, January 18, 2004. 29 Interview (#13) with a Mauritanian political analyst, December 2007. 30 Interview (#9) with a senior Mauritanian officer, December 2007. 31 Interview (#12) with a Mauritanian intellectual, December 2007.

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32 The wary former president Maaouya Ould Sid’Ahmed Taya had promoted his long-standing chief of the Joint Staff Colonel Ould Boukreiss to the rank of Brigadier General only upon Boukreiss’s retirement in December 2001. “Mauritania” in ed. anon. Africa Contemporary Record Vol. XXVIII. 2001-2002, Africana Publishing Company, 2006, pp. B 151-152. 33 Bâ, Abdoulaye Ciré, L’irrésistible ascension d’officiers très ordinaries, Biladi, January 7, 2009. 34 Interview (#13) with a Mauritanian political commentator, December 2007. 35 Le Calame, Que faire du BASEP?, April 18, 2007. 36 Liste des Mesures de Gouvernance Programmées par le Gouvernement 10eme FED Mauritanie. 37 Ibid. 38 Ibid. 39 Ibid. 40 Ibid. 41 Ibid. 42 Sneiba, Coup de gueule: Les élus chahutés, Le Calame, February 26, 2008. 43 RIM, Liste des Mesures de Gouvernance Programmees par le Gouvernement - 10eme FED Mauritanie. 44 Ibid. 45 Interview (#10) with a senior government official, December 2007. 46 Fleischman, Janet, Mauritania's Campaign of Terror: State-Sponsored Repression of Black Africans, Human Rights Watch, 1994, pg. 78. 47 Interview (#9) with a senior Mauritanian officer, December 2007. 48 IRIN, Mauritanie: Les anciens esclaves tentent de s’adapter au sein de leur nouvelle communauté, January 15, 2009. 49 Meunier, Marianne, En attendant la remise de dettes, in Mauritanie: changement d’ère, Jeune Afrique, March 26, 2006. 50 Le Calame, La Mauritanie obtient plus qu’il n’en faut au Groupe consultatif, December 12, 2007. 51 Jeune Afrique, « Mauritanie : Franc succès auprès des investisseurs », December 9-15, 2007, pg. 58. 52 Bernard, Philippe and Tuqoi, Jean-Pierre, L'Afrique piégée par la flambée des prix des aliments, Le Monde, April 4, 2008. 53 Clavreul, Laetitia, and Faujas, Alain, Matières premières agricoles : des hausses de prix explosives, Le Monde, April 4, 2008 54 Interview (#27) with Mohamedine Diop, June 2009. 55 Meunier, Marianne, Conjuncture favorable, in Mauritanie: changement d’ère, Jeune Afrique, March 26, 2006. 56 Le Calame, Pauvreté en Mauritanie: Un pays riche, des citoyens pauvres, March 4, 2008. 57 Interview (#9) with a senior Mauritanian officer, December 2007. 58 U.S. State Department, Bureau of Democracy, Human Rights and Labor, 2007 Country Reports on Human Rights Practices: Mauritania, March 11, 2008. 59 Interview (#7) with Mohammed Yedhi Ould Tolba, December 2007.

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60 The author is grateful to Abdel Kader Mohamed Said Ould Hamad, a lawyer and president of the ICC, a Mauritanian NGO with which the author worked, and Prof. Seyid Ould Bah, a professor of philosophy at the University of Nouakchott, for their analyses of the Mauritanian constitution. 61 Ould Meyne, Mohameden, La Mauritanie mérite mieux !, Le Calame, March 4, 2008. 62 Ould Meyne, Mohameden, Déficit budgétaire et polémique sur les chiffres des finances publiques, Le Calame, June 15, 2007. 63 Interview (#13) with a Mauritanian political analyst, December 2007. 64 AVM, Comprendre et surprendre, Le Calame, March 4, 2008. 65 Interview (#13) with a Mauritanian political analyst, December 2007. 66 Ould Mohamed, Abdelvetah, Le pouvoir: Une peine à vivre…, Le Calame, January 23, 2008. 67 Ould Meyne, Mohameden, L’état de grâce s’envole-t-il ?, Le Calame, May 31, 2007. 68 Sneiba, Coup de gueule: Les élus chahutés, Le Calame, February 26, 2008. 69 Bâ Adama Moussa, Vers la renaissance du parti/État, Le Calame, August 29, 2007. 70 Interview (#4) with Professor Ahmed Ould Bouboutt, December 2007. 71 Xinhua, L'Alliance Populaire Progressiste est contre le retour à l'ère du Parti-Etat – Mauritanie, September 3, 2007. 72 Interview (#18) with a noted Mauritanian dissident. 73 Interview (#4) with Prof. Ahmed Salem Ould Bouboutt, December 2007. 74 AMI, Mauritanie – Gouvernement: M. Yahya Ould Ahmed El Waghef nommé Premier ministre, Nouakchott, May 6th, 2008. 75 AFP, Mauritanie: démission du Premier ministre Zeine Ould Zeidane, May 6, 2008. 76 AFP, Mauritanie: formation d'un gouvernement de 30 membres dont 4 de l'opposition, May 11, 2008. 77 Blundo, Giorgio, “Graisser la barbe” : Mécanismes et logiques de la corruption en Mauritanie, Note de synthèse établie à l’intention de la Délégation de la Commission européenne en Mauritanie, February 2007, pg. 18. 78 République Islamique de Mauritanie, Note de politique sur la corruption dans le secteur public, PRECASP, February 1, 2007, pg. 29. 79 Blundo, Giorgio, op.cit., pg. 14. 80 Interview (#26) with Dr. Mohamed-Mahmoud El Hacen, June 2009. 81 République Islamique de Mauritanie, op.cit., PRECASP, February 1, 2007, pg. 38. 82 Ibid, pg. 8. 83 Ibid, pg. 34. 84 Interview (#22) with Mohamed Fall Ould Oumère, June 2009. 85 Interview (#1) with Sidi Mohammed Ould Cheiguer, December 2007. 86 Blundo, Giorgio, op.cit., pg. 15. 87 Ibid, pg. 19. 88 Ibid, pg. 15. 89 Ibid, pg. 30. 90 Ibid, pg. 37.

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91 Reporters Without Borders, Mauritania - Annual Report 2008, retrieved August 20, 2009, http://www.rsf.org/article.php3?id_article=25391. 92 Reporters Without Borders, op.cit. 93 RWB, Libel charge brought against publisher of Arabic-language weekly, June 16, 2008; retrieved August 21, 2008, http://www.rsf.org/ article.php3?id_article=27498. 94 RWB, Two journalists conditionally freed, August 19, 2008; retrieved August 21, 2008, http://www.rsf.org/article.php3?id_article=27910. 95 Interview (#8) with a Mauritanian human rights advocate, December 2007. 96 Seck, Ahmadou, Un journaliste tabassé, un autre trainé en justice, Le Calame, August 29, 2007. 97 Bâ Adama Moussa, Paysage politique (Nouvelle vague de partis), Le Calame, August 8, 2007. 98 Bâ Adama Moussa, Pouvoir/opposition (Le ton monte), Le Calame, October 10, 2007. 99 Bâ Adama Moussa, Les partis de l’opposition en position de tir, Le Calame, October 31, 2007. 100 Ould Maghlah, Ely, “Le pouvoir exécutif instrumentalise la justice”, Nouakchott Info, Wednesday April 20, 2008. 101 Interview (#23) with Abdelkader Ould Hamad, June 2009. 102 Interview (#24) with Aboulaye Ciré Ba, June 2009; and interview (#22) with Mohamed Fall Ould Oumère, June 2009. 103 Interview (#24) with Aboulaye Ciré Ba, June 2009. 104 Interview (#22) with Mohamed Fall Ould Oumère, June 2009. 105 Interview (#24) with Aboulaye Ciré Ba, June 2009. 106 Meunier, Marianne, Le retour des vieux démons, Jeune Afrique, August 10, 2008. 107 Hofnung, Thomas, Nouakchott renoue avec les putschs, Libération, August 7, 2008. 108 Seeking the support of security services would appear a necessity, both a priori and in the case of the Serbian and Ukrainian revolutions, based on Binnendijk, Anik, and Marovic, Ivan, Power and Persuasion: Nonviolent Strategies to Influence State Security Forces in Serbia (2000) and Ukraine (2004), Communist and Post-Communist Studies, September 2006.

8 All the General’s Men

At around 7 am on Wednesday, August 6, 2008, an extraordinary communiqué was broadcast on state radio. In an unprecedented move, Abdallahi had issued a decree dismissing the military's three generals: Mohamed Ould Abdel Aziz, Military Chief of Staff to the President; Mohamed Ould Ghazwani, Chief of Staff of the Armed Forces; Felix Negri, Chief of Staff of the National Guard; as well as Colonel Ahmed Ould Bekrine, Chief of Staff of the Gendarmerie. Thus, in a single stroke, the president had fired all the most senior commanders within the military and security establishment, a decision unparalleled in Mauritanian history. It also amounted to a suicidal frontal assault on the security establishment. Little more than two hours later, as President Abdallahi was having breakfast with his wife and children, two officers of his personal security detail, including the head of his bodyguard, interrupted their meal and asked the septuagenarian president to follow them. Unfettered and following his new jailers of his own volition, he was escorted to the BASEP barracks, while his wife and children were searched and detained for the next twenty-four hours.1 Shortly thereafter, Prime Minister Yahya Ould Ahmed Waghef and the minister of interior were taken into custody. Around the same time, the national radio and television had ceased broadcasting, an inkling of the coming coup. Troops were reported circulating throughout the capital, surrounding the presidency, and to have chased journalists away from the radio and television stations. By 11:30, a communiqué from the Council of State, the provisional name of the new junta, named General Mohamed Ould Abdel Aziz as its president and annulled the presidential decrees firing him and the country’s two other generals. Communications minister Abdellahi Salem Ould El Moualla and another minister read out loud a statement on state television that the decree was “null and without effect.”2

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The generals were widely considered to have supported the parliament’s rebellion against the president. On Monday, August 4, some forty-eight national assemblymen and senators, over half of the president's ruling party, had resigned, intending to form a new party, and without a majority in parliament Mauritania's third government in fifteen months seemed poised to collapse. Between 6 p.m. on August 5, when the lawmakers announced their collective resignation from Abdallahi’s ADIL party, and midnight, the president purchased the loyalty of fifty lawmakers out of sixty in dissent,3 parliamentarians who the very next day would swing their support to the coup once it was clear the junta had prevailed.4 Abdallahi’s decision to fire Abdel Aziz and his inner circle thus baffled even the most seasoned observers.5 Only a single theory provided a rational explanation of Abdallahi’s behavior. Abdallahi “knew Abdel Aziz would take power. He [Abdel Aziz] awaited Sidi’s first false step to do so. That he knew one month in advance. […] Abdel Aziz is a go-getter, Sidi a procrastinator. His wife and entourage’s behavior provoked scandal. But that alone did not suffice for Abdel Aziz to topple him.”6 The longer Abdallahi remained in power, the more Abdel Aziz lost influence. The general therefore played on the theme of corruption. That theme was far from new. Beginning in the 2006-2007 campaigns politicians began running on the theme of fighting corruption, borrowing their discourse from civil society and in particular Citizens’ Radio. Abdel Aziz in this optic only copied previous politicians and appealed to a “famished” people “raging against the system.”7 Staunchly anti-junta sources maintained the president had just learned that the military leadership with the support of lawmakers intended to organize a self-styled grassroots demonstration that would take over the presidential palace. BASEP troops would open the president’s residence to the demonstrators, claiming their respect for the will of the people. With no maneuvering room Abdallahi acted precipitously by firing them. But he realized he was trapped. Having promoted a clique of junior colonels loyal to Abdel Aziz to the rank of brigadier general, above roughly thirty more senior colonels, he had alienated the rest of the military leadership: the only men who could save him. Colonel Ould Ghazwani, for example, had not the four years in grade required for selection to brigadier general. Abdallahi brought the requisite time in grade down to two years expressly on Ould Ghazwani’s behalf, and made Abdel Aziz’s acolyte a general. Since 1978 civilian control of the military was inconceivable. By the eve of the coup there was not a single platoon that would obey the president, and thus Abdallahi “sawed off the branch on which he sat.”8

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The officers seized the opportunity not solely to protect themselves but to take power definitively and directly. This was not their preferred choice. For hours Abdel Aziz attempted to parley with Abdallahi, to no avail. Initially Abdel Aziz intended to form a mixed junta, with half of the seats allocated to civilians. The coup leader negotiated for nearly ten days before he announced the composition of his junta. Had the opposition accepted Abdel Aziz’s propositions, they might have received more from the general when his legitimacy was widely contested.9 Once in charge, however, the junta had to battle to consolidate its power and gain legitimacy in the eyes of the donor community. They would do so with the dedicated collaboration of some of their country’s best and brightest, playing upon regional rivalries and manipulating domestic political actors with years of credible opposition experience. Employing a democratic lexicon, the junta would couch its actions in the framework of the defense of democracy and the safeguarding of national security. But in the days and weeks following the coup, unprecedented resistance would grow in the most unlikely quarters. Condemnation and Collaboration

International condemnation of the coup was unanimous, if ambiguous from some powers. The African Union, Washington and the UN firmly condemned the coup. Even Hosni Mubarak’s Egypt expressed its “consternation” and “extreme” worry for a “brother” nation, enjoining Mauritania to “respect the rules of democracy.”10 Brussels condemned the coup and openly threatened to cut financial support. Paris, however, issued a cryptic statement affirming its attachment to stability in Mauritania, which provided the Quai d’Orsay considerably more flexibility. Given its import as the former colonial ruler and its lingering aura of kingmaker among many Mauritanians, France’s official declarations were given much credence and subject to as much speculative interpretation as the oracles of antiquity. Its attachment to stability in the country was interpreted as tacit support for the coup, particularly given French frustration with Abdallahi.11 This was not the first time that Abdallahi found himself under arrest at the hands of the military. As a minister in Moktar Ould Daddah’s cabinet, he had spent several months in prison following the country’s first coup in July 1978, and had later been imprisoned for suspected corruption as a minister in Taya’s government.12 Most Mauritanians were happy to see him out of office. They believed Abdallahi’s brief tenure to have been an unmitigated disaster, a series of economic,

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security and political crises worsened if not instigated by the president himself,13 whom they judged to be simultaneously corrupt and incompetent, at once weak and authoritarian. Numerous parliamentarians rallied to the coup that very day, expressing their support for the “rectifying movement of the national army” and calling upon the Mauritanian people to join the parliamentary institution and political groups oriented towards change. The parliamentarians decried the fallen president’s “improvisational policies marked by an impasse of constitutional institutions [and] the exercise of personalized power, without consideration for the majority or for the principle of consultation upon which our nascent democracy is based.”14 National Assemblyman Sidi Mohamed Ould Maha, speaking on behalf of the rebellious lawmakers, called upon “all citizens” to participate in a march supporting the coup the next day.15 Immediately a “Group for the Defense of Democracy” was formed, acclaiming the Army’s “sincere endeavor” aiming to end “the regime of Sidi Mohamed Ould Cheikh Abdallahi that was deviating from the democratic path.”16 In typical fashion, the next day, supporters of the coup held a demonstration, marching from the airport to the presidency. Giant portraits of the junta leader, Abdel Aziz, materialized that morning, and stickers expressing their unfailing support for the coup appeared on cars throughout Nouakchott. None of these phenomena distinguished this coup from others, highlighting instead the customary support for the winning side that followed all coups. Yet there the similarities ended. For along with collaboration, an unprecedented degree of resistance to the coup emerged. By 12:30 p.m. that day, Islamist politician Jemil Mansour, leader of the Tawassoul party, had already come out against the coup, as had other Mauritanians. Mansour’s party had only recently been legalized under Abdallahi. The toppled president’s supporters demonstrated in his favor in the hours following the coup, but were quickly dispersed by riot police with tear gas and batons. With troops and riot police throughout the capital, the battle was won as soon as it had commenced. Claiming to be speaking from hiding, presidential spokesman Abdoulaye Mahmadou Ba could only beg the international community to refuse “a masquerade of an election” that would “impose an easily manipulated puppet.”17 The very night of the coup a lively debate took place on national television, where two members of a leading civil society NGO and two officers affiliated with the junta concurred on the need for a rapid transition to elected government. Less than one thousand responded to the call to demonstrate in support of the coup, in a capital whose population by informal accounts had swollen to nearly one million.

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General Abdel Aziz greeted the rally’s participants in person, thanking them for their attendance and promising to “resolve all the country’s problems.”18 That same day a demonstration in favor of the ousted president brought several hundred demonstrators out into the streets, again only to be crushed by riot police. The leadership of the ruling party and three other parties that organized the demonstration formed a coalition the night of the coup, which they dubbed the National Front for the Defense of Democracy (FNDD.)19 For Nouakchott’s poor, the coup, which had little bearing on their daily lives, might as well have taken place abroad. They were far more concerned with securing their daily bread, which had become over the fifteen months of Abdallahi’s administration an increasingly difficult endeavor. In Arafat, a lower-class Nouakchott quarter, one woman expressed the opinion of many in telling journalists that she was happy to learn of the coup, for she “hadn’t seen anything concrete since Sidi’s election.” As a taxi-driver argued, before the fallen president’s election a kilogram of rice cost 150 ouguiyas, or roughly 67 cents, but by the time of the coup the price had risen to 220 ouguiyas, or nearly a dollar.20 With so many living at the threshold of subsistence, the prices of staples mattered more than the seemingly intangible questions of democracy and civil liberties. A supporter of the coup expressed the sentiment of numerous Mauritanians when he argued that “democracy is a means, and not an end in itself! What good is democracy if the people are hungry?”21 Attempting to assuage concerns, the junta promised “free and transparent elections in as short a period as possible”22 some fourteen hours after the coup.23 In an interview the evening of the coup published the next day, Abdel Aziz staunchly defended his actions, placing them within the continuity of the democratic transition commenced after the “democratizing coup” of August 3, 2005. Almost three years to the day after that coup, the general argued that: “This wasn’t a coup d’état. It was an act meant to save the country and save the political process the Army had started on August 3, 2005 and that had ended with the creation of democratic institutions whose credibility and transparency were approved by the entirety of Mauritanians and the international community, to the extent that our country became the first real democracy of the Arab world. […] The country is confronted by a series of security problems, such as terrorism prevailing in recent months, that only the Army can eradicate. To hit the Army right now, especially in decapitating it of the most competent and respected commanders, places the country in a

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very dangerous situation. As the ultimate guarantor of the country’s supreme interests, the Army therefore decided to take the initiative.”24

If he justified his actions on national security grounds, Abdel Aziz also sought to reassert his credentials as a democrat, assuring his interviewer that “from now on, I personally commit to preserving the rule of law, citizens’ freedoms and existing democratic institutions. Freedom of expression and the press will be protected; recognized civil and political organizations will remain so. The parliament will continue to function normally. No institution of the republic will be suspended.”25 To believe the general, the coup was democratic in its end, if not in its means. But observers could not help but notice that of the eleven initial members of the junta, seven had been members of the CMJD junta in August 2005, a junta that had taken power promising those very reforms.26 If they promised democracy, there was ample reason to question whether their vision was that of an Algerian or Turkish democracy, one where the military served as final judge and guarantor of democracy and a separate institution free of checks upon its internal functioning. The military in Mauritania had long comprised a de facto fourth governing institution, one that checked the executive, legislative and judicial branches. The day following the coup, there was little surprise and no sympathy for the ousted president. Hindsight lent events an air of inevitability, and contempt for Abdallahi was palpable. The president “was but a puppet” in the words of one human rights lawyer. “Soldiers decided upon nominations and everything else.” If he had been toppled, it was because he had broken “the pact he had made with the soldiers: once elected, he was to stay only six months or a year before ceding his place.”27 The August 6 coup revolved around power, not policy. Abdel Aziz, as the strongman during the democratic transition, was already considered the “president” by the street. The general wished to formalize and consecrate his power through elections. But “even if the military keeps its promise to organize democratic elections, we would be back to square one. The junta that took power is the same that fomented the putsch. And if Abdallahi won the presidential election democratically in 2007, it’s again because the junta imposed him.”28 The Prisoners’ Dilemma

Checked by his generals, the president responded with a decision on the morning of Wednesday, August 6, that, in the words of one specialist, was “suicidal. [And] I think he knew it.”29 In their response, generals

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Abdel Aziz, Ould Ghazwani and Negri created a perfect conundrum for the West. Mauritania’s situation was clearly untenable, with a discredited, incompetent executive, an impotent judiciary, a rebellious legislative body, and an infuriated fourth branch of government, the military. General Abdel Aziz himself bore much responsibility, as along with his associates he had fomented open rebellion among lawmakers within what journalists whimsically referred to as the “parliamentary battalion” in an effort to force the president out of office.30 If the military’s encouragements had been the decisive factor, both the legislators and the populace harbored grievances against the president. Each party felt aggrieved for different reasons, however. Though Mauritanians had tired of the president’s impotence and corruption, his erstwhile supporters in parliament were irritated by their marginalization from power in favor of Abdallahi’s inner circle. Where Abdel Aziz’s implication was decisive was in providing the politicians the courage to oppose the president. He could only have done so by offering them certain guarantees, drawing on the military’s power. The international community grew to tolerate the August 2005 coup in the expectation of genuine democratization. But by forcing matters with a second coup d’état, the new coup-makers put the West and themselves in an untenable situation. The West feared the consequences of compromising on what was so evidently a matter of principle, only to see coups ad infinitum whenever the military establishment took it upon itself to declare the political crisis of the day unacceptable. “What are they going to do? Organize a new transition and new elections before taking power again?” one expert asked. “This military elite, one day or another, will have to decide to leave power.”31 The military had discredited Mauritania’s democracy at a stroke. “Are they going to try to reestablish a democracy? But will it still have any meaning?”32 The fallen leader’s decision to euthanize his government was dismissed as folly. Yet arguably there was method in the leader’s madness. Checkmated by his own mismanagement, the corruption of his supporters, and the maneuverings of the superior allied forces of his own party and the generals, the aging president may have decided to renounce completing his term, and to checkmate the generals into opposing the international community. Rather than a corrupt and ineffectual leader, he became a victim of the military establishment, which alone would bear the world’s opprobrium. In his confinement Abdallahi finally appeared at home. As an audio recording of the encounter leaked to the press later revealed, his circumstances would have been eased considerably had he proven more cooperative towards the junta. Late one night two senior officers visited

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the overthrown president. They argued forcefully and for two hours with the old man, their insistence verging on harassment. Among the enticements they proposed were treatment as a former chief of state with all ensuing honors, and generous and regular payments. The old marabout flatly refused. He replied tartly that he had been born in a tent seven decades before, walked barefoot to school, and cared little for the pecuniary incentives they impudently dangled before him. Forsaking the courtesies bestowed the aged in Moor society and insistently cajoling him, the soldiers could not wring his concession.33 The man synonymous with corruption in many quarters snubbed the most generous inducements. As Abdallahi’s ordeal ended, his opponents’ had only just begun. The Diplomatic Circus

On the afternoon of Thursday, August 7, the High State Council issued a communiqué promising to maintain the July 20, 1991 constitution and carry on with the democratic process. It arrogated the powers of the presidency under that constitution and promised the nomination of a government and the supervision of presidential elections as soon as possible and in consultation with political parties and civil society.34 Over the passing days condemnations poured in, from Algeria to Zambia.35 Punitive measures were equally swift. Forty-eight hours after the coup, the US suspended its non-humanitarian aid, totaling over $20 million. The African Union suspended Mauritania on August 9 until the “return of a constitutional government.”36 African political parties and civil society groups that had seen in Mauritania a model for fellow African states and the entire Arab world condemned the coup and decried a democratic regression.37 Elsewhere in the capital that day, an anti-coup meeting under the FNDD banner drew at least 500, including parliamentarians and cabinet ministers.38 Along with the leadership of the ruling party, the core of the budding movement of coup dissenters was comprised of National Assembly president Messaoud Ould Boulkheir’s APP party. The FNDD questioned the junta’s commitment to returning the country to democracy, arguing that their promises “are but a subterfuge to infringe upon the will of the people” and that the coup had cost Mauritania “its credibility in the world.” Abdallahi for them remained “the sole and only legitimate chief of state.”39 On Monday, August 11, demonstrations in favor and against the August 6 coup again vividly illustrated how divided Mauritanians had become. Towards the north of Nouakchott, a convoy of vehicles and a

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thousand demonstrators on foot paraded in support of the coup. To the south, thousands demonstrated against the coup, rallied by a coalition of politicians. The crowd enthusiastically welcomed Prime Minister Yahya Ould Ahmed Waghef, who, only hours after his release that afternoon, called upon his compatriots to reject the coup. They could take in comfort in France’s declaration that afternoon that it would suspend all financial support beyond humanitarian and food aid.40 None of this dissent would have been apparent by reading of Horizons or Chaab, the French and Arabic language state media newspapers, respectively. On Sunday, August 10, Horizons’s three front-page stories were General Abdel Aziz’s meeting with an Arab League delegation and with Arab Maghreb Union (UMA) Deputy Secretary General Ahmed Ben Hilli, new measures applying to the republic’s institutions, and “vast sympathy in support of the High State Council.” As the headline’s subtitle the newspaper chose an ambiguous quote from Ben Hilli that could be conceived as supporting the HCE. The remainder of the issue proceeded to document demonstrations in favor of the coup in several major towns. Ensuing pages were dedicated to support for the coup among the nation’s political parties, civil society, and intellectuals, in addition to General Abdel Aziz’s meetings with the French, American, Spanish, and German ambassadors.41 The government press media had only been relatively reliable during the 2005-2007 transition. The state media reverted to its autocratic atavisms, in all fairness, before the advent of the junta, under the weight of the civilian regime’s worsening attitudes towards the press. The director of Morocco’s intelligence service, Mohamed Yassine Mansouri, visited General Abdel Aziz42 and reportedly sought an arrangement. Upon his return to Rabat he stated to the press that President Abdallahi had paid the price for his “blindness” and having ignored the warnings of “patriotic” officers. Rabat, which had long been preoccupied with the issue of the Sahrawis and desired stability within and political support from Mauritania, seemed amenable to a gentleman’s agreement that would secure its interests. Morocco was already at the heart of the crisis, according to the Moroccan Press. Rabat reportedly intervened on behalf of Ould Ahmed Waghef and Interior Minister Mohammed Ould R’Zeizi, who were freed from prison shortly before Mohamed Yassine Mansouri’s meeting with Abdel Aziz.43 The expression of the need to “respect Mauritania’s choices” by an editorial in Le Matin, the Moroccan government daily, suggested Rabat’s tacit support for the junta.44 Meanwhile, Algeria, Morocco’s historical rival, made its presence felt by calling for the “reestablishment of constitutional order.”45

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As Abdel Aziz was strengthening his hold on power, the EU issued a communiqué warning the junta of the “serious risk” of their “lasting isolation” from the international community. Reiterating its condemnation of the coup as illegitimate, Brussels qualified the impeachment of President Abdallahi and exceptional measures taken by the junta as “bereft of any legitimacy.”46 If the general was concerned by the EU’s remonstration, he certainly left little inkling. That very afternoon riot police broke up an FNDD sit-in protest in front of the National Assembly led by some 100-200 women.47 One demonstrator, Assemblywoman Aichetou Mint Amar of the ADIL party, was wounded by a tear gas grenade blast.48 Consolidating Power

The days following the coup saw considerable maneuvering within the military as well. Another colonel was added to the HCE, while Colonel Mohamed Ould Mohamed Znagui replaced Ely Ould Mohamed Vall as Vice-Chief of the Joint Staff.49 Behind the scenes, Vall’s removal served the junta’s interests in a context of increasing pressure on the generals, whose lack of experience in politics showed. After an unimpressive first public speech and initial political blunders, Abdel Aziz revealed more than he might have wished. He soon suggested he might run as a candidate in a presidential election, in contrast with the CMJD’s nearlyimmediate pledge that sitting junta members and ministers would not run during upcoming elections. This had been probably the most powerful argument convincing the donor community of the CMJD’s good faith, one that had drawn the West’s support by legitimating the promised elections. Further, he openly confessed his participation in the manipulation of the 2007 presidential elections in his first interview with French radio. Responding to his interviewer’s question how, having supported Abdallahi in 2007, he could explain to the international community that he had overthrown him, Abdel Aziz did not even bother to deny the thrust of a leading question. “[W]e openly supported him at the time, believing that he would run the country well in a clearly defined program, and when he began to deviate all of the main supporters completely abandoned him, because they saw that he could no longer run the country. All his supporters were disappointed.”50 In a decree published six days after the coup Abdel Aziz reserved the right to exercise the president’s prerogatives under the July 20, 1991 constitution, and to rule by decree so as to ensure “the continuity of public powers and the guaranteeing of freedom and transparency of the planned presidential elections” were the Parliament’s operations

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“impeded.” The country’s parliamentarians following the coup broke into opposite camps. That many observers had credited the military with encouraging the parliamentary revolt could not go unnoticed.51 This ruling was unconstitutional on several counts. According to Article 40 of the July 20, 1991 constitution the vacancy of the presidency had to be declared by the Constitutional Court, the highest judicial authority. Upon that ruling the Speaker of the Senate assumed the role of the president in the interim until presidential elections were held. These elections were to be held within three months of the president’s vacancy, subject to review by the Constitutional Court. The Prime Minister and the remainder of the cabinet also served in the interim, though they were considered to have resigned. In a state of emergency higher powers could only be adopted, according to Article 39, after official consultation with the Prime Minister, the presidents of both the upper and lower houses of parliament, and the Constitutional Court. The HCE had not observed these articles, and its decrees were therefore unconstitutional. With the totality of the president’s powers secured by decree, Abdel Aziz began his quest to form a government loyal to his junta on the evening of August 12, less than a week after toppling Abdallahi. He found a political class largely open to compromise. A week after the coup 191 mayors out of 216 publicly proclaimed their support for the junta. A series of politicians and foreign diplomats paraded through his office, seeking assurances from the junta leader. The portly general had by now exchanged his uniform for tailored pin-striped suits. Abdel Aziz could be comforted by the support he had obtained from the vast majority of the country’s political class. Some 40 senators out of 56 and 67 out of 95 assemblymen voiced their support for the junta. In a joint communiqué they appealed to the international community to support them in their objectives of maintaining “stability” and “facing the challenges of democracy development.” For these lawmakers the coup d’état constituted a “rectification” aimed at bringing an end to the “institutional impasse.”52 More than ever, Mauritania’s political class was divided, with the preponderance in favor of the junta. Those who continued to oppose the coup were an ad hoc coalition of leftists and Islamists, particularly Messaoud Ould Boulkheir’s APP, Mohamed Ould Maouloud’s UFP, and the Islamist Tawassoul party. The idea of a benign military strongman – morally upright, politically neutral, patriotic and, most of all, effective – appealed resoundingly in the late summer of 2008. Many, despairing of the country’s ability to surmount the challenges posed by inflation, corruption, endemic poverty and the specter of terrorism, concluded that

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their country needed a strongman. In their eyes General Abdel Aziz, for all his evident shortcomings and the manner with which he had taken power, seemed far superior to Abdallahi. Theirs was a choice between two evils, one that they had experienced over the past fifteen months, and another that already seemed a distant memory. Eight days after the putsch Abdel Aziz named Moulaye Ould Mohamed Laghdaf, Nouakchott’s ambassador to Belgium and the EU as his “Prime Minister.” Before being posted to Brussels in 2006, Laghdaf had been affiliated with the RFD party of Ahmed Ould Daddah, the perennial opposition leader and presidential candidate whose party had signed on with the junta. At first glance he seemed an unlikely candidate, with no political experience. Yet if Laghdaf was barely known in Nouakchott, the choice was eminently political, directed towards constituencies far beyond the capital. Laghdaf was also a member of the Tajakant tribe from the Hodh Chargui region, a key electorate.53 Boasting a doctorate in Applied Sciences from the Free University of Brussels among a plethora of degrees, Laghdaf had worked for the EU’s Center for Industrial Development for Africa, the Carribean and the Pacific, on a Belgian-financed aid project in his native region, and with the European Commission in Nouakchott before his nomination as ambassador to the EU and Belgium.54 As such he appeared the ideal candidate to placate the EU, which at the time had yet to decide on the status of its aid to Mauritania, unlike America and France, which had both suspended non-humanitarian aid. Further pressuring the EU, a flood of West African illegal immigrants who had swarmed Spain’s Canary Islands two days after the August 6 coup highlighted the importance of Nouakchott’s cooperation. Some 90% of the immigrants came in small fishing boats originating in Mauritania. Rather than attempting to evade the Spanish coast guard, these vessels seemed to await their patrols.55 Given its political implications this surge of illegal immigration was perhaps not altogether accidental. Two-thirds of Mauritanian parliamentarians, the quorum necessary according to the constitution for an extraordinary session of Parliament, expressed their desire to meet on August 20 and elect a “High Court of Justice” that would judge the fallen president and his ministers for suspected corruption.56 The president’s corruption would be used to prevent him from returning to political life, discredit his supporters and lend credibility to the junta and the parliamentary committee that supported it. Not long thereafter, 155 politicians withdrew from the deposed president’s party, the PNDD-ADIL, and decided to form their own party, leaving only forty-five out of 300 members remaining in the

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PNDD-ADIL’s national council.57 Abdallahi’s abandonment was nearly complete. In opposition to the junta, only nineteen of Mauritania’s 151 parliamentarians, sixteen national assemblymen and three senators, remained.58 Blind Man’s Bluff

The junta’s poise derived from the shape of Mauritanian politics, the infinite layers of complexity that baffled outsiders and permitted freedom of action, just as it had under the colonial authorities. Mauritania’s Western-educated neopatrimonial elites knew the language and thinking of the West, while their foreign interlocutors all too often knew little of theirs. Just as their grandfathers had assured their autonomy during the indirect rule of the French, they too told the international community what it wanted to hear, uttering the sacred incantations of the regnant paradigm of the age, liberal democracy, so as to freely pursue their own goals. To Western diplomats and journalists they presented the image of worldly, democratic modernizers. Among themselves, they struggled over power, and by extension, money, just as their families had for generations. Mauritania’s patina of democracy, if not a mere Potemkin village, scarcely concealed the military’s influence and the domination of Mauritania’s traditional elites. But in their interactions with foreign powers, time played in their favor. In the grand sweep of Mauritanian politics, foreign diplomats, international delegations and journalists were passing travelers, spending a few years at most in Nouakchott. Mauritania’s ruling elite, on the other hand, was compelled to defend its own interests, regardless of Western promises. What little foreign attention was paid to the country derived from crises, which called for quick resolutions. Foreign interest quickly faded thereafter. Realist considerations prevailed over Wilsonian aspirations of democracy on the march. The lobby in Western capitals for democratization in a country few had ever heard of proved weak in comparison to that which existed for business interests in the country. Mauritania’s latest coup marked yet another blow to aspirations of democratization in the Arab world by virtue of how its 2005-2007 transition had been perceived. The standard narrative of Mauritania’s political history, evident in Western but also Arab media, was that the coup “in 2005 stood out from the rest because it put [an] end to two decades of dictatorial rule and laid the groundwork for a successful democratic transition. The military this time [i.e. in 2005] came as makers of democracy, not usurpers of power.”59 The international news

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media largely bought into the thread the CMJD had artfully woven, a well-tailored plot complete with a fallen villain and a cast of unlikely heroes – military coup leaders with hearts of gold. Everyone accepted this account, for a success story for democratization in the Arab world lay in everyone’s interest. Yet if the Islamic Republic of Mauritania had become a model for the Arab world worth exporting, it certainly was not visible in aid funding and oversight allocated to the country. When Washington decided to suspend its aid, the total sum of roughly $20 million was derisory in comparison to Mauritania’s natural resource revenue and EU aid. Once Abdallahi fell, the same sources that had welcomed his advent were quick to note how “the trappings of democracy which the world saw were a far cry from reality within the country.”60 Mauritania’s politics hence provide a window into a certain class of politicians who have adapted to the regnant political paradigm while pursuing their interests. But the nation also sheds light on the conflicted state of Western diplomacy. Western foreign policy espouses democratic principles but finds itself unwilling to allocate the funding to pursue those principles. It trumpets democratic change without seeking to change the underlying groundwork of autocracy. And it embraces selfproclaimed democrats in both government and civil society but neither vets the sincere from the disingenuous and opportunistic, nor provides those of good intentions the requisite resources to succeed. What surfaces is a weakness of Western diplomacy, which states that democratization lies in the world’s long-term interests but cannot summon the resources to support emerging democracies. This is largely due to the low priority accorded smaller developing countries hold, but also partly cognitive. Many Western observers do not know what they do not know. The image crafted for them by their Mauritanian partners, for instance, colored the many gray areas. The refusal to believe in conspiratorial logic and the hermeneutics of suspicion proves beneficial in examining relatively open policy-making bureaucracies. But it does not always further the understanding of cliques and small, closed elites. Rather than a question of overconfident and ignorant journalists and diplomats, who knew far more than they were given credit for, Mauritania’s crisis highlights the lack of will among those local leaders who proclaim the safeguarding of democracy as their priority. Thus, there was perhaps a degree of truth in former president Taya’s sardonic remark on Al Arabiya television that what had transpired was not a coup d’état, but simply “the end of a masked ball destined to present things in an acceptable light to the West. The former president thought he was

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grounded in reality in attempting to put in place his virtual prerogatives.”61 The Sincerest Form of Flattery

In his first televised speech to the nation on August 17, Abdel Aziz promised “free and transparent elections” as soon as feasible.62 From his very first speeches, Abdel Aziz sounded more like a politician on the stump than a general. He borrowed his progressive discourse, almost in its entirety, from Mauritanian civil society. Such an intellectual debt asserted itself not only in his campaign themes but in his very diction. The term “rumuz el vessad” or “symbols of corruption,” repeated in his speeches and in pamphlets, echoed the use of the catch phrase many months before when NGOs urged action against a plague that cripples Mauritania’s economy. His strategy harnessed the social critiques of NGOs with an aggressive approach to punishing the corrupt, many of whom happened to number among Abdel Aziz’s opponents. In so doing it trapped civil society and society at large, which though suspicious of the strongman’s promises, urgently wanted action on the part of the government and was inclined to take the general’s word in the hope it would be backed by firm deeds. And for this greater good they were willing to forgive his imitations of Charles de Gaulle’s rhetoric – “having sacrificed so much for a certain idea of Mauritania, I owe it to myself to bring it to completion.”63 His commitments in that arena were certainly substantial, such as his promise not to tolerate corruption even within his personal circle, and such vows set him on a collision course with the powerful bureaucracy. Other significant pledges included his commitment to zealously oversee the state-owned mining company and change the course of Mauritania’s fisheries, from a highly opaque rent-based system that fed corruption rather than fishermen to a corporatist structure centered on creating lasting employment. Later, he would pledge to carefully oversee an overgrown bureaucracy and prevent waste, fraud and abuse. In his commitment to demand greater accountability of public servants so as to return government to the citizenry,64 he but echoed civil society’s prescriptions over the past years. Yet there was little assurance that Abdel Aziz would implement these reforms, particularly given the politicized nature of previous embezzlement-related arrests. For example, when Colonel Mohamed Khouna Ould Haidallah took power in May 1979, he instituted anticorruption campaigns, and promptly removed three of the ruling CMSN

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junta’s top members on corruption charges. Haidallah took populist measures against graft and inefficiency in government, but could not conceal over the course of the early 1980s that the abuse of government powers for personal gain had become the bedrock of Mauritania’s economic system. The collapse of BIMA, the International Bank of Mauritania, revealed the pervasiveness of malfeasance within his administration. During the fisheries boom of the early 1980s, tribes with government connections had secured fishing licenses which they resold to foreign companies based in the Canary Islands, accruing fortunes the state lost as its vital resources were under-priced and over-fished.65 When Taya seized power in December 1984, Haidallah was accused of misallocating food aid on tribal and political considerations, while Taya named a government comptroller to reexamine the state’s management of its funds and investigate continuing scandals in the fishing industry. Ultimately Taya’s reign saw corruption reach its pinnacle. At once the defender of the established order and the protector of those victimized under that order, the energetic reformer and the duty and tradition-bound soldier, Abdel Aziz presented himself so as to appeal to all segments of society. Through his strategy, the general had positioned himself to represent the best of each facet to appeal to every segment. He muffled his reform-minded opponents by lifting their talking points wholesale, and in doing so had guarded his Achilles heel – his twenty years at the heart of an irredeemably corrupt and oppressive regime. Most impressively of all, he had seized upon the zeitgeist, stridently voicing in his campaign rhetoric on poverty and corruption what so many of his citizens thought. The Arab League’s envoy to the junta adopted a conciliatory tone, declaring publicly that life had returned to normality in Mauritania – which was indisputably the case for most Mauritanians – and that its democratic experience was not in jeopardy. Ahmed Ben Hilli claimed that the country’s democratic institutions, apart from the presidency, were functioning normally and that Mauritanians were ready to maintain the country’s stability. Ben Hilli expressed hope that disagreements would be resolved through dialogue.66 But Abdel Aziz’s assurances did not allay fears in Brussels. During negotiations with the junta the EU threatened to freeze its aid, save that which was humanitarian in nature or “directly benefited the people,” and suspended its fishing accord with Nouakchott.67 Brussels may have hoped that such an announcement would allow its diplomats to apply pressure on the junta without rupturing the flow of aid and precipitating a confrontation between the EU and Abdel Aziz, and that the extended decision-making process in Brussels would give its diplomats in

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Nouakchott flexibility to negotiate with the junta, while pressuring the officers behind the putsch to compromise and do so promptly. Yet coming twelve days after the coup, the announcement’s message appeared equivocal and its effect derisory. In suggesting that Brussels might cut aid that did not “directly benefit the people,” the EU Development and Humanitarian Aid Commission was essentially admitting that a considerable portion of its efforts did not have that effect, while simultaneously allowing the junta to believe that its aid cuts might be subject to concessions and compromise during the negotiations. This contrasted with Washington’s suspension of all nonhumanitarian aid, and warnings of further cuts to follow in budgetary programming for the coming years. Due to Section 508 of the Foreign Operations Appropriations Act, which imposes severe restrictions upon the distribution of American aid when a duly elected chief of state is unlawfully deposed, Washington could credibly warn its interlocutors in the junta that aid would be drastically reduced pending a return to democratic rule. Corporate Interests

If Nouakchott faced isolation from most donor governments, that was far from true for certain corporations. In late October, as Paris emphasized its opposition to the coup, two major French corporations began contracts with the junta, expressing their confidence in the country’s long-term stability. The oil giant Total signed a contract with the HCE pledging to improve transportation infrastructure in northern Mauritania, in expectation of production beginning within the next halfdecade. Its initial exploration had begun in 2005 under the Taya regime and long before the August 3 coup and Mauritania’s democratic experiment, and Total intended to begin drilling in late 2009 with hopes for production by 2013-2014.68 The French cement giant Vicat also took a risk and staked a claim in Mauritania’s economy, buying 65% of the capital belonging to the country’s main cement manufacturer, Mohamed Ould Bouamatou’s BSA Ciment. It seemed a wise investment: despite the turmoil of the past few years, demand for the material had increased by 7% annually over the same period.69 The very interconnectedness of international investment made for strange partners. Three months after the August 6 coup, George Soros, the billionaire financier known throughout the former Eastern bloc for the democratic governance, human rights and rule of law-oriented initiatives of the Open Society Institute, invested $4.6 million to buy 5% in an Australian mining firm that operated a $2.1 billion iron ore mine in Mauritania.70 The

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movement was widely noted in Nouakchott but was only mentioned in a few investment journals. Further, Mauritania’s partners competed vigorously over the nation’s fishing rights. Though China’s role was steadily growing, the European Union was most intricately involved in Mauritania’s fishing industry. In 2006 the EU had negotiated a quota of 205,000 tons of fish per year through 2012, in exchange for 305 million euros. Fishing vessels from across the world continued to harvest Mauritania’s catch. In consequence, the catch plummeted by nearly 50% for some protected species, while Mauritanians denounced the accord as an inequitable treaty that provided the Europeans access to some of the richest seas in the world at below-market prices.71 The Democratic Regression

Perhaps the most ominous sign emerging in the immediate aftermath of the coup was the regression in the freedom of the state press. The complete servility of the state-run Mauritanian Information Agency (AMI) and the national television station jarred even those veterans of censorship under Taya.72 Isaac Ould El Mouktar resigned from his position as director of Mauritanian television channel TVM2 after the coup and denounced his former channel as “having transformed itself into the mouthpiece of the new regime’s supporters.” “Censorship is total,” he declared.73 Junta supporters immediately attacked him, impugning his credibility by accusing him of corruption and nepotism.74 One long-serving newspaper editor noted how, after dedicating three minutes to a movement in favor of the coup, state television barely accorded a single sentence referring to “a so-called initiative of parliamentarians in the defense of democracy.”75 In the junta’s quest for self-legitimation, the editor wrote, the two values most treasured under Taya’s rule, loyalty and mediocrity, had made a stunning return to the scene, as swarms of sycophants from all backgrounds – politicians and intellectuals – praised the coup and competed fervently to enter the good graces of the new regime.76 Latent demand for a paternalistic leader, one that coexisted precariously with a genuine demand for democracy, reemerged. In the course of a nationally televised debate on one of the country’s two state-controlled television channels, Isselmou Ould Abdel Kader, a former minister of health and governor under Taya, accused the BASEP of being a militia, many of whose members were foreigners granted Mauritanian citizenship. Abdel Aziz had helped found the BASEP and had commanded the battalion, which constituted his source of power, for

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nearly two decades. In his opinion pieces, Abdel Kader had taken aim at a junta he judged to be “leading the country over a precipice.” The director of Mauritanian state television was fired shortly after the broadcast. Arrested at his home, Abdel Kader was arraigned five days later and accused of attempting to “demoralize the Army in the object of undermining national security, public indecency and offending Islamic morals.” An FNDD-led demonstration outside the courtroom was quickly broken up.77 The charges of threatening national security convinced few, while the accusations of public indecency were reminiscent of charges brought against Malaysian opposition leader Anwar Ibrahim. None of the actors in the drama could emerge flattered by the affair. As outcry arose over a political arrest and its implications for freedom of speech, little mention was made of Abdel Kader’s problematic remarks on race and power within Mauritania. In addition to attacking the BASEP, Abdel Kader had reopened old wounds with inflammatory rhetoric alleging that Mauritania’s Bidans were a perishing breed. In a telling gesture, rather than censuring the former governor for his racially provocative statements, the junta arrested him on insubstantial allegations of moral misconduct and quasi-treasonous activities. Voicing dissent had never been a revolutionary act in Mauritania, even under Taya. Following through on one’s dissent with action was a different matter altogether. Under the junta, however, certain criticisms were inexcusable. In what Reporters Without Borders labeled an unprecedented incident, Abou Abbass Ould Braham was arrested late on a mid-March evening at a café with colleagues and held by police for three days. Prosecutors ordered his outspoken news website Taqadoumy shut down for publishing “deceitful and calumnious” news. Citing “repeated complaints from people, firms and civil servants,” the government accused the website of consistently violating journalistic ethics and undermining national unity in its “defamation and incitement towards hatred.” The website immediately parried the attack, however, by emulating most censored news websites and publishing on a foreign blog site impervious to hackers’ assaults. The site was reopened concurrent with Ould Braham’s release,78 though his discharge was not eased by his unfavorably comparing the junta’s Secretary General, Colonel Ahmedou Bamba Ould Baye, to Joseph Goebbels.79 Months later, when journalists protested in front of the UN headquarters in Nouakchott’s most moneyed neighborhood, police responded by firing tear gas into the crowd and attacking them with batons. At least three journalists were beaten.80 The journalists had protested to call for the release of Ould Braham. When journalists

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attempted to cover a sit-in demonstration by lawyers from the National Order of Attorneys at the Ministry of Justice, police attacked them with clubs and seized their equipment.81 Such treatment failed to intimidate the order’s spokesman, Ahmed Salem Ould Bouhbeyni. Just as journalists had reason to fear for their safety for the first time since the fall of Taya, human rights regressed. Bouhoubeyni, the primus inter pares of the Mauritanian bar association, accused the regime of systematically violating human rights and concluded that the prosecutor’s office was responsible for sanctioning arbitrary detentions of prisoners who suffered “inhuman conditions.”82 Human rights advocacy groups denounced frequent arbitrary and illegal arrests, including the cases of prisoners arrested and held without warrants. Hundreds, they claimed, were illegally held in Nouakchott prisons without the knowledge of prosecutors.83 In its 2008 Press Freedom Round-up, a period mostly covering the Abdallahi administration, the global NGO Reporters Without Borders ranked Mauritania 105th in its worldwide ranking of freedom of the press out of 173 countries measured. Regrettably for the general state of press freedom in the region, Mauritania ranked highest amongst all its neighbors in the Maghreb.84 Given the government monopoly over radio and television, Mauritanians of means searching for news had long since turned towards the country’s private newspapers and satellite television. Differing from the clumsy and transparent reporting by the official media, or the hagiographies penned by newly-discovered writers inspired by the general, private news sources engaged in a far subtler exercise of influencing opinion. Many spun news through selective reporting, together with intricate readings of press releases, statements and communiqués that purported to reveal the true meaning behind the news. Those with Internet access at home or in the burgeoning number of cybercafés resorted to online media and Internet portals. The Internet served a dual purpose, at once allowing those supporting the coup to proclaim their support for the junta, often publicly and especially during the days immediately following the coup, and simultaneously as a safe ground from which to express their rejection and organize protests. Demonstrations and counter-demonstrations arose abroad, as each side attempted to prove its hold among the consciences of the Mauritanian diaspora. Anti-coup websites appeared, attempting to mobilize Mauritanians abroad in their rejection of the junta’s rule.85 What Larry Diamond has dubbed “liberation technologies” promise to help autonomously organize societies better capable of defending their rights.86 Unlike printed newspapers, whose editions might be

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seized by the Ministry of the Interior, online webzines were far more difficult to censor. Cridem.org served as an online forum for news and opinion. Ani.mr, and Taqadoumy.com constituted more traditional news sources, which competed to reveal and decipher news. Taqadoumy.com, for example, opposed the junta and regularly published unflattering but unverified reports that named junta members in cases of corruption, internal rivalries, and the suspect arrests of junior military officers.87 The wide proliferation of cellular phones throughout the country, including among the poor, dramatically increased the rapidity with which information circulated. These new technologies did not necessarily translate into organization and activism. Though anti-junta militants had been active at home and in Europe throughout the crisis, their calls for civil disobedience88 failed to resonate with their countrymen. Insatiability

There seemed little room for dialogue regardless of venue. Its proponents contended that the coup was needed to prevent an autocratic and corrupt president from seizing absolute power by decapitating the military high command and installing officers loyal to him in their stead. Mauritanian diplomat Mohamed-Mahmoud Ould Mohamedou, who after working as associate director of Harvard’s Program on Humanitarian Policy and Conflict Research had returned to Mauritania, argued that the dismissals constituted the prelude to ethnic strife, subsuming the instruments of state power under the complete control of a democratically-elected despot. Therefore, the junta’s decision to overthrow the president was a “brave” one made in the interests of the Mauritanian people.89 Within days he would accept his cousin Abdel Aziz’s invitation to become the junta’s foreign minister. Those opposed to the coup saw nothing but rank opportunism in those supporting the coup, who in their view attempted to square the vicious circle of coups and military rule by enlisting in the junta’s ranks. By overthrowing the president, the HCE’s members had subscribed to a three-decade long system of rule and alternation of power by military strongmen through coups, an ultimately untenable and increasingly unstable system, placing themselves on the wrong side of history. Further, opponents saw the arguments of coup supporters as rationalizations in pursuit of personal interests over those of the country. In a morally and emotionally charged atmosphere, accusations of opportunism and collaborationism with a regime left little quarter for debate over feasible resolutions to the crisis. Furthering the chasm

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between the two sides was an irreducible philosophical difference. The opinions and public positions of those opposed to the coup varied widely, with some rallying behind Abdallahi, an ironic democratic symbol given his governing style, and many simultaneously rejecting the junta and the fallen president. Where they agreed was in the belief that the coup was fundamentally illegitimate on a normative level and untenable in practice. As a Mauritanian jurist wrote, a choice had to be made between the rule of law and that of form, for there was no middle ground between two irreconcilable stances.90 Abdel Aziz continued to receive large retinues of businessmen who expressed their support. Within days of his taking power Abdel Aziz had remolded himself. In every respect, he consciously distinguished himself from Abdallahi. A balding, portly and bespectacled father of five, his was not at first glance a commanding image. Projecting a forceful image, however, Abdel Aziz modeled himself as the apotheosis of Abdallahi, the man he had hoisted to the presidency and to whom he owed his general’s stars in every respect.91 The undoubtedly disabused general had seen such displays for the past twenty years, serving as Taya’s and then Abdallahi’s guardian, as Mauritania’s elite paid homage to power. Fishing licenses, boats, foreign currency, banks, companies, and contracts belonged to those who pledged fealty to the state, forming a corrupt oligarchy that dominated the local economy, despite having “pillaged resources, defrauded the taxman, corrupted public servants, and transferred wealth abroad,” as one commentator noted. Those who maintained a sense of duty were but “the tree that hid the forest,” “an infernal jungle” grown by consecutive modern-day Sun kings, affording him shade. More than merely dictators and oligarchs, the entire political class was culpable of “opportunism, an absence of principals and vision, legerity and complicity with power.”92 With equal adroitness the junta wielded concessions and threats, leveraging its powers to provide its foreign interlocutors sufficient compromise while undercutting its opposition in what was essentially a psychological struggle. In Mauritania’s neopatrimonialist system, the military leadership, business class and the provincial notability in one party leader’s words were but electoral manpower for major oligarchs.93 “The bourgeoisie seeks to replace the colonialists.”94 Yet “the colonizers haven’t been replaced. Elites act in symbiosis with foreign operators [through] a partnership between local predators and foreign actors that wash their hands of exploitation.”95 In the context of globalization, where local elites allied with foreign corporations, many Mauritanians felt they were suffering globalization rather than shaping it. Deprived of agency, they saw themselves as disenfranchised from the decisions over their fates.

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“We endure,” one commented. “The world imposes its logic upon us. […] The world is remaking itself, the world comes to you whether you are ready or not and we are at its mercy.”96 Mauritania’s elites were neither monolithic, nor failed to exhibit enlightened self-interest. One academic’s typology distinguished three different groups among Mauritania’s elites. The first was an elite of prestigious families that had inherited its status and continued to benefit from this standing. The second had seized its status on the political chessboard, and its rank remained tied to political developments. The third, rising elite was a diverse stratum that had benefited from globalization and was cosmopolitan, engaged in business in the Arabian Gulf or with the West, either linked to or part of the diaspora, and not beholden to clientalism. Consequently, numerous members of this third elite push for change, particularly as the clientalist system exhausts itself. As the number of the destitute and the educated unemployed grew and could no longer be absorbed by the reigning economic system, calls for change from the margins grew, as the FNDD demonstrated.97 Unfortunately most elites continued to believe that their country’s maladies derived from a man, rather than a system. Rather than opposing military interference and proposing electoral alternatives, the political class immediately allied themselves with the officers.98 Critical to proving the junta’s popular legitimacy and countering a wave of international pressure were large rallies. On the day that the International Organization of La Francophonie, an entity representing the French-speaking community, added its voice to those condemning the coup,99 the junta supporters held their largest rally. Between 22,000 and 30,000, depending on police or the organizers’ tallies, attended the demonstration in Nouakchott’s Olympic Stadium.100 Addressing the crowds, Abdel Aziz assured them “we are aware of your problems,” mentioning rising prices, sickness and corruption “which trouble our sleep.” He promised to “review prices,” dedicate the means of the state to the service of the people, and end corruption. “You’ve undoubtedly heard this before,” the general reassured them, “but this time these promises will be fulfilled on the ground.”101 Abdel Aziz also reiterated his promise to organize new presidential elections as soon as feasible, but gave no indication of a timetable or quantifiable benchmarks for anticipated reforms. The political class was now mostly united in supporting the coup. Forty-one out of fifty-nine political parties formed a coalition in its favor.102 Mauritania, with slightly over three million inhabitants, doubtless boasted perhaps more political parties per capita than any country in the world, only four of which opposed the coup. In their

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statement the political parties, which included formations as the RFD and the UDP, expressed their “total support for the August 6 corrective movement,” which was to “maintain the country’s stability and preserve democratic institutions.”103 An FNDD counter-demonstration slated for the following day was banned.104 A demonstration by trade unions opposed to the coup, which had received authorization from the governor of Nouakchott, was broken up by policemen. The police engaged in street fights with irate workers, arrested protestors, and detained Samory Ould Beye, the Secretary General of the Free Confederation of Mauritanian Workers, in the governor’s offices.105 While the trade unionists were released with the governor’s apology, the excesses raised the ire of the Mauritanian Human Rights Association 106 and undercut the junta’s claims to upholding civil liberties and freedom of expression. In its desperation the junta began investigating its opponents on corruption accusations. Two weeks after the coup fallen Prime Minister Yahya Ould Ahmed Waghef accused the military of having planned a coup for August 19, the eve of the anticipated extraordinary session of parliament, in an interview with Abu Dhabi TV. In firing the four military chiefs, the President was only trying to preempt the coup, according to Waghef. The next day the military again arrested the former prime minister, who had only been released on August 11, as he attempted to speak at an anti-coup rally that afternoon in Mauritania’s northern port of Nouadhibou. Taking him into custody as he reached the town of Boulanuoar107 with members of the FNDD, the gendarmerie returned Ould Ahmed Waghef to Nouakchott.108 Under the cover of darkness he was transferred that night to his home village of Achram, some 340 miles southeast of Nouakchott. But the arrests convinced few of the junta leader’s honorable intentions. “Abdel Aziz arrests thieves only because they are his enemies, and not his friends who are thieves.”109 Businessman Abdallahi Ould Moctar joined Waghef in prison and was charged, along with four co-defendants, with having engineered Air Mauritanie’s bankruptcy. Waghef was also charged with further embezzlement. Prosecutors alleged he had taken the funds to buy large quantities of white rice so as to alleviate food shortages, purchased adulterated rice instead, and pocketed the difference. Waghef had led the Air Mauritanie between 2004 and 2006, while Ould Moctar served as president of the airline’s board from 2002 to 2006. Both were paramount figures in Nouakchott’s architecture of power, exemplifying a system wherein politicians served tycoons in a symbiotic relationship based on patronage and clientelism. Waghef’s premiership had led the FNDD to

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accuse the junta of selective prosecution on politicized grounds.110 Confronted with the arrests, the FNDD committed an error of colossal proportions by claiming those unpopular figures arrested for malfeasance as their leaders, allowing the junta to tie them to corruption in its campaign. In its communiqués, the FNDD depicted innocent men victimized by a vindictive junta, and attacked by common-law inmates of the Nouakchott prison “at the instigation of junta members determined to continue their political score-settling.”111 When Waghef was finally released on bail on December 7, the court-determined sum was fixed at an unprecedented 105 million ouguiyas, or nearly $500,000.112 Ould Moctar was no less a key figure: as one of Mauritania’s richest men, he had become a powerful mover with a coterie of loyal and indebted followers. The day of his arrest, dozens of luxury four-wheel drive vehicles congregated in front of his palatial estate in Nouakchott’s most exclusive neighborhood. That two powerful figures at the summit of a patronage pyramid, rather than the subalterns who served as the usual suspects, had been arrested lent credibility to an anti-corruption campaign initially met with great skepticism. This logic of confrontation, investigation and exposure, when pursued to its end, could only discredit the current ruling class and pave the way for new political actors to emerge, for so many within the country’s small political class were widely known to be implicated in corruption. A tacit pact of silence had persisted in large part for this reason. But the logic of accountability was not pursued to its intrinsic ends, but rather for the military’s ends. The security establishment controlled the police and investigative services, and hence the dossiers exposing years of corruption. This monopoly allowed the junta to coerce many into silence, while exposing the misdeeds of their chief adversaries. Meanwhile, the generals’ misdeeds and those of their allies went unexamined. The Men Without Qualities

The façade the officers had elaborated for weeks of campaigning and months of the Abdallahi government crumbled as their creature turned upon them. The Abdallahi administration’s incompetence and corruption earned unanimous scorn, echoed wholeheartedly by Abdel Aziz and fellow officers increasingly unnerved by a president and a government that escaped their clutches and any sense of reason. Seen popularly as the most incompetent chief executive in national memory, Abdallahi had nonetheless trapped the generals. By firing them, the old marabout had

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forced them to reveal their attachment to power at all costs, and to confront the international community, which could no longer harbor any illusions about the officers’ intentions or the state of democracy in Mauritania. Even more significant, however, was the fundamental bankruptcy of the country’s ruling classes, civilian and military. Mauritania’s crisis was fomented by a hapless government that had lost the trust of a public that saw it as engaged in a bacchanal of embezzlement. Further, it excluded parliamentarians from the windfall, driving lawmakers to ally themselves with a military establishment steadily losing influence over the president. Faced with their dismissals and the president’s retreat, the security establishment’s commanders chose not only to topple the president, but to seize his power and constitute a junta. These two decisions – removing the president and taking power in a junta – were not inextricably linked. Much as the officers explained their coup d’état as a “rectification movement” to remove a threat to the country, they could not conceal that given the choice of incapacitating the president and holding to the constitution, they had chosen to confiscate power. They thus placed their country on a collision course with its donors. A neopatrimonial elite of questionable competence could always count upon the complicity of some of the country’s best and brightest. With few independent bases of sustenance save the state, they could ill afford principles. Once the officers had seized power, they found little difficulty in constituting a cabinet and then a government of wellqualified technocrats. Those in whom their country had placed its leadership and invested its education as well as its trust – bureaucrats, diplomats, but also academics and civil society leaders – willingly espoused their cause and lent their minds and wills to the junta’s endeavor. Brilliance and principle were not one and the same. Ironically, opposition to the junta would come not from its technocrats but from an assortment of compromised political barons and junior political activists. Outnumbered and overpowered, they would nonetheless shake their country’s elites to the core.

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1 Meunier, Marianne, Le retour des vieux démons, Jeune Afrique, August 10, 2008. 2 RFI, La junte promet une élection présidentielle, August 7, 2008. 3 Interview (#22) with Mohamed Fall Ould Oumère, June 2009. 4 Interview (#23) with Abdelkader Ould Hamad, June 2009. 5 Interview (#22) with Mohamed Fall Ould Oumère, June 2009. 6 Interview (#23) with Abdelkader Ould Hamad, June 2009. 7 Ibid. 8 Interview (#23) with Abdelkader Ould Hamad, June 2009 and interview (#24) with Aboulaye Ciré Ba, June 2009. 9 Interview (#22) with Mohamed Fall Ould Oumère, June 2009. 10 AFP, Mauritanie: l’Egypte est “consternée”, August 7, 2008. 11 Lemine Ould Med Salem, as quoted in Daniez, Clément, "La France ne sera pas mécontente du coup d'État en Mauritanie", Le Point, August 6, 2008. 12 Ould Meyne, Mohameden, Sidi Ould Cheikh Abdallahi: Mention: Faible, Le Calame, August 10, 2008. 13 Ould Cheikh, Ahmed, Éditorial : Un nouveau coup, pour quoi faire?, Le Calame, August 10, 2008. 14 Xinhua, Mauritanie: des parlementaires soutiennent le nouveau pouvoir militaire, August 7, 2008. 15 AFP, Mauritanie: la junte venut rassurer, marche de soutien au putsch, August 7, 2008. 16 Xinhua, Mauritanie: des parlementaires soutiennent le nouveau pouvoir militaire, August 7, 2008. 17 AFP, Mauritanie: la junte venut rassurer, marche de soutien au putsch, August 7, 2008. 18 AFP, Mauritanie: le chef de la junte promet de “résoudre tous les problèmes”, August 7, 2008. 19 Ibid. 20 AFP, En banlieue de Nouakchott, l’inflation des denrées soucie plus que le putsch, August 8, 2008. 21 Rivière, Manon, Les Mauritaniens d’un mal à l’autre, Libération, August 8, 2008. 22 AFP, Mauritanie: la junte venut rassurer, marche de soutien au putsch, August 7, 2008. 23 AP, Mauritanie: Paris réclame la libération “immédiate” des responsables détenus par les putschistes, August 7, 2008. 24 Interview with General Abdel Aziz by Lemine Ould M. Salem, in Hofnung, Thomas, Les militaires mauritaniens mettent fin à une courte embellie démocratique, Le Temps, August 7, 2008. 25 Ibid. 26 Based on a comparison of the CMJD roster and the list of officers that had joined the HCE published by the state media on August 7th. AMI, Mauritanie/Politique: Le Haut Conseil d'Etat rend public un nouveau communiqué, August 7, 2008, http://www.ami.mr/fr/articles/2008/Aout/07/ 01.html, retrieved August 7, 2008. 27 Anne-Sophie Hojlo interviewing Cheikh, Mohamed Limam, Coup d'Etat en Mauritanie: "La junte conservera le pouvoir, directement ou indirectement", Le Nouvel Observateur, August 7, 2008.

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28

Ibid. Boulin, Jérôme, La démocratisation de la Mauritanie entre parenthèses, Le Figaro, August 7, 2008. 30 Bâ, Abdoulaye Ciré, Médiation sénégalaise : Arrière-plan et enjeux, Biladi, May 19, 2009. 31 Antil, Alain, as quoted in Hofnung, Thomas, op.cit., August 7, 2008. 32 Boulin, Jérôme, op.cit. 33 Ould Oumère, Mohamed Fall, Révélation : Le bon, la brute, et le méchant, La Tribune, March 23, 2009. 34 AMI, Le Haut Conseil d’État rend public un nouveau communiqué, August 7, 2008. 35 Xinhua, La Zambie condamne le coup d'Etat en Mauritanie, August 8, 2008. 36 Reuters, L’Union africaine va suspender la Mauritanie, August 9, 2008. 37 Xinhua, Un parti politique malien condamne le coup d’Etat en Mauritanie, August 8, 2008. 38 AFP, Mauritanie: des centaines de personnes à un meeting contre le putsch, August 8, 2008. 39 Xinhua, Mauritanie : plusieurs parties doutent des engagements du nouveau pouvoir militaire, August 9, 2008. 40 AFP, Mauritanie: milliers de manifestants anti-putsch et pro-putsch à Nouakchott, August 11, 2008. 41 Front page of the state newspaper Horizons, N. 4795, August 10, 2008. 42 Le Matin, Le président du Haut Conseil d'Etat mauritanien reçoit un émissaire de S.M. le Roi, August 13, 2008. 43 APA – Rabat, Maroc – Mauritanie: La libération de « détenus » du putsch en Mauritanie a été « grâce » à Rabat, dévoile la presse marocaine, August 13, 2008. 44 Le Matin, Éditorial: Respecter les choix de la Mauritanie, August 13, 2008. 45 AFP, Mauritanie: la majorité des parlementaires et de maires soutiennent le putsch, August 13, 2008. 46 AFP, L’UE met en garde la junte en Mauritanie contre un risqué d’”isolement”, August 13, 2008. 47 AFP, Mauritanie: sit-in anti-putschist dispersé, August 13, 2008. 48 APA, Une députée blessée par la police au cours d'une manifestation hostile au putsch, August 13, 2008. 49 Xinhua, Mauritanie: le nouveau pouvoir nomme de nouveaux responsables de l’armée, August 10, 2008. 50 Riviere, Manon, Mauritanie: Le général Abdel Aziz: “La démocratie en Mauritanie n’a pas échoué, RFI, August 10, 2008. 51 AFP, Mauritanie: la junte se dote d’une “ordonnance” définissant ses pouvoirs, August 12, 2008. 52 AFP, Mauritanie: la majorité des parlementaires et de maires soutiennent le putsch, August 13, 2008. 53 AFP, Mauritanie: le chef de la junte nomme un diplomate Premier ministre, August 14, 2008. 54 AMI, Mauritanie/Nomination: Nomination d’un nouveau premier ministre, August 14, 2008. 29

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55 Nouvel Observateur, Les clandestins affluent aux Canaries depuis le coup d’État, August 11, 2008. 56 AFP, Mauritanie: 2/3 des députés veulent un session extraordinaire du Parlement, August 15, 2008. 57 Xinhua, Mauritanie: retrait collectif de membres de l’ancien parti au pouvoir, August 18, 2008. 58 AFP, Mauritanie: 19 parlementaires pour Sidy, August 16, 2008. 59 Ould Mohamed Lemine, Mohamed, Mauritania's coup in the making, Al Jazeera English, August 20, 2008. 60 Ibid. 61 Ould Boah, Mohamed, Vers une nouvelle recomposition politique en Mauritanie : Qui remplacera le président déchu ?, Al Bayane, August 10, 2008. 62 AFP, Mauritanie: un scrutin présidentiel “dans les meilleurs délais”, August 17, 2008. 63 As evidenced by his campaign’s website, www.aziz2009.com, retrieved May 28, 2009. 64 Ibid. 65 Blundo, Giorgio, “Graisser la barbe” : Mécanismes et logiques de la corruption en Mauritanie, Note de synthèse établie à l’intention de la Délégation de la Commission européenne en Mauritanie, February 2007, pg. 10. 66 Xinhua, La vie suit son cours en Mauritanie après le coup d'Etat, August 14, 2008. 67 AFP, La Commission européene veut “geler” sa coopération avec la Mauritanie, August 18, 2008. 68 AFP, Mauritanie: le group Total s’entend avec la junte pour des travaux routiers, October 25, 2008. 69 Les Afriques, Le cimentier Vicat s’implante en Mauritanie, October 28, 2008. 70 Wilkerson, Tara Loader, Billionaire Soros profits in adversity, Wealth Bulletin, November 7, 2008. 71 Tuquoi, Jean-Pierre, Bataille internationale autour du poisson mauritanien, Le Monde, October 22, 2008. 72 Ould Meyne, Mohameden, Le HCE en quête de reconnaissance: La longue ‘’marche’’, Le Calame, August 18, 2008. 73 Le Journal de Dimanche, Mauritanie: La junte accusée de censure, August 19, 2008. 74 An online open letter attacking Ould Mouktar exemplified the effect of a growing and vocal community of Mauritanians online. (http://www.cridem.org/ index.php?id=82&no_cache=1&tx_ttnews%5Btt_news%5D=21294&tx_ttnews %5BbackPid%5D=36&cHash=b432866552, retrieveded September 2, 2008.) 75 Ould Oumère, Mohamed Fall, L' Édito de Le Tribune, La Tribune, n°413, August 18, 2008. 76 Ibid. 77 AFP, Mauritanie: un ancien ministre écroué pour “démoralisation de l’armée”, October 26, 2008. 78 RSF, Mauritanie : un journaliste libéré et le site Internet Taqadoumy autorisé à réouvrir, March 23, 2009. 79 APA, La présidence mauritanienne présente les excuses à la presse, March 18, 2009.

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80 RSF, Mauritanie : un journaliste libéré et le site Internet Taqadoumy autorisé à réouvrir, March 23, 2009. 81 ANI, La police empêche, avec la force, des journalistes de couvrir un sitin des avocats, May 24, 2009. 82 Bouhoubeyni, Ahmed Salem, Rapport mensuel du bâtonnier sur l’état de la justice, May 12, 2009. 83 PANA, Des ONG dénoncent la récurrence de la détention arbitraire en Mauritanie, March 14, 2009. 84 RWB, Press Freedom Round-up 2008, December 30, 2008. 85 Touré, Cheikh, For-Mauritania.org: L’autre voix de l’étranger, La Tribune, N. 416, September 15, 2008. 86 Interview (#34) with Prof. Larry Diamond, Stanford University, April 2010. 87 Thus in the space of a few days the news website Taqadoumy.com reported blatant corruption and tensions at the junta’s highest levels. (http://www.taqadoumy.com/fr/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id =1204&Itemid=28, August 2, 2009.) 88 Agazzi, Isolda, Appel à la désobéissance civile en Mauritanie, InfoSud, February 20, 2009. 89 Ould Mohamedou, Mohammad-Mahmoud, A Brave Choice for Survival for Mauritania and Her People, Market Watch, August 24, 2008, http:// www.marketwatch.com/news/story/brave-choice-survival-mauritaniaher/story.aspx?guid=%7B79F5E99B-34D7-4A51-BADCA83FEEA83000%7D&dist=hppr, retrieved August 25, 2008. 90 Ould Ahmed Mahmoud, Cheikh, Main basse sur notre démocratie, Agence Nouakchott d’Informations, August 23, 2008. 91 Meunier, Marianne, Jusqu'où ira Abdelaziz ?, Jeune Afrique, April 24 2009. 92 Ould Cheikh, Ahmed, Classe politique et classe affaires, Le Calame, February 18, 2009. 93 Interview (#24) with Aboulaye Ciré Ba, June 2009. 94 Interview (#23) with Abdelkader Ould Hamad, June 2009. 95 Interview (#26) with Dr. Mohamed-Mahmoud El Hacen, June 2009. 96 Interview (#27) with Mohamedine Diop, June 2009. 97 Interview (#21) with Prof. Seyyid Ould Bah, University of Nouakchott, June 2009. 98 Interview (#22) with Mohamed Fall Ould Oumère, June 2009. 99 Xinhua, La Francophonie rejette le coup d’état de Mauritanie, August 19, 2008. 100 AFP, Mauritanie: meeting en faveur du putsch, 22.000 participants selon la police, August 18, 2008. 101 AMI, Le président du Haut Conseil d’État assiste au grand meeting de soutien de Nouakchott, August 18, 2008. 102 AFP, Mauritanie: meeting en faveur du putsch, 22.000 participants selon la police, August 18, 2008. 103 Xinhua, Mauritanie: une alliance de 41 partis soutient le nouveau pouvoir, August 20, 2008. 104 Olphand, Marie-Pierre, Mauritanie: le chef de la junte reste dans le flou, RFI, August 19, 2008.

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105 APA, La police disperse une manifestation syndicale de protestation contre le putsch à Nouakchott, August 19, 2008. 106 PANA, L’AMDH dénonce des violences en Mauritanie contre des syndicalistes, August 20, 2008. 107 PANA, L’ex-Premier ministre mauritanien interpelé près de Nouadhibou, August 21, 2008. 108 AFP, Mauritanie: le Premier ministre renversé Ould Waghef de nouveau arrêté, August 21, 2008. 109 Interview (#27) with Mohamedine Diop, June 2009. 110 AFP, Mauritanie: le Premier ministre renversé par le putsch inculpé et écroué, November 21, 2008. 111 PANA, Mauritanie: Le FNDD dénonce les aggressions contre Waghef et ses codétenus, November 27, 2008. 112 AFP, Mauritanie: caution de 327.000 euros pour libérer l'ex-Premier ministre écroué, December 7, 2008.

9 Battling Military Rule

Late on the night of Sunday, August 31, the HCE published the list of its first government, with twenty-two ministers and six deputy ministers reporting to Prime Minister Moulaye Ould Mohamed Laghdaf. Only two ministers from the previous government remained.1 Three ministers came from the RFD, which led the party to declare that in acceding to posts within the new government the ministers had concurrently resigned from the party.2 At least two were in their thirties, and three in their forties.3 Most were technocrats rather than experienced politicians, which was far from a handicap. As the newly appointed prime minister later exalted, “no member had participated in the corruption that had been the norm over the past thirty years.”4 At first the new regime was shunned internationally. The AU, the UN and Arab League repeated their demands for the release of Abdallahi and Waghef after representatives from the bodies convened in Addis Ababa.5 Paris immediately declared the government “bereft of any legitimacy.”6 A day later, Washington in turn announced that it did not recognize the legitimacy of the “so-called government pronounced by the High State Council,” going on to add that it still considered Abdallahi and Prime Minister Ahmed Waghef as the legal representatives of government in Mauritania.7 Following the suspension of French and American aid and the World Bank’s announcement that it would be suspending some $175 million in assistance, the Arab states constituted the junta’s sole remaining aid donors of any significance. Meanwhile, the FNDD commenced its offensive through parallel diplomacy, sending delegations to the capitals of those African nations that had yet to clarify their positions. Envoys from the Front traveled to Senegal, Mali, Cote d’Ivoire and Benin, Nouakchott’s West African partners.8 The alliance’s envoys even pleaded their case at the Fespaco Panafrican Film Festival in Ouagadougou.9 In a surprising reversal for the junta, the mayors of some fifty municipalities made public their rejection of the new government, stating that they had no intention of

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collaborating with an “illegal” government. This came after 191 out of 216 mayors had initially supported the coup that had brought the junta to power. Less than a month later, the same mayors repeated their demand for the release of the overthrown president and prime minister, and the return to legality.10 The National Order of Mauritanian Lawyers joined their call.11 The Battle for Legitimacy

Following previous coups, as illustrated by the August 5, 2005 putsch, the political class had embraced the fait accompli out of a pragmatic desire to safeguard their own interests, together with genuine distaste for the previous regime. The public acceded for similar reasons, sensing there was not the wherewithal to refuse on grounds of principle. Such reasoning was not only based upon fears of repression. Standing on principles required the means with which to stand. This was a luxury beyond the reach of those whose precariousness left them at the mercy of their rulers and whose need justified their quest to appease their new rulers. These autocrats did not have to win citizens’ hearts and minds. With the power of the state in their grasp they controlled their subjects’ stomachs, and in the desperately impoverished nation that was Mauritania, that was all that mattered. The junta presumably counted on this reasoning, and had planned to stage conspicuous displays of public support to buttress their international position. As in 2005, they expected the international community would recognize them and continue aid in exchange for certain preconditions, related to elections. Their critical advantages were to be the support they had always mustered within parliament, combined with proof of misdeeds on the part of Abdallahi, his unpopular wife Khattou Mint Boukhary, and their entourage. With their control over the country’s security and intelligence services, they wielded personal dossiers and evidence as so many trump cards. By shaming the central figure of Mauritania’s elected government and flaunting the support of its lawmakers, Abdel Aziz hoped to discredit the previous administration. Crafting his ascension to power as an improvement over the status quo, and demonstrating overwhelming popular support, the general had hoped to bring the crisis to a resolution in his favor quickly. He had not counted upon the National Front for the Defense of Democracy, however. And understandably so: though the international community’s expressions of outrage were predictable, the anti-junta front that coalesced that August was unique in every sense. A curious collection of political bedfellows, the FNDD counted moderate

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Islamists, former Marxists, and a party comprised of former Arab nationalists and Haratine activists. This peculiar coalition persisted in organizing rallies. Attendance at these rallies rarely matched those of pro-junta rallies, which opposition activists ascribed to the full means of the state being placed at the disposition of pro-HCE organizers. Nevertheless, for these demonstrations to take place at all was remarkable, and each rally constituted a challenge to the junta. At the same time, the FNDD, which had grown to include five political parties, varied in its domestic position from day to day, often unable to coordinate its positions. Calling for sanctions from the international community, as Mauritania’s trade unions had done in their appeal for UN action to restore democracy to Mauritania,12 left dissidents exposed to criticism when most of their compatriots suffered from soaring food and transportation costs. When the FNDD appeared to have supported international sanctions against Mauritania,13 newlyformed civil-society bodies slammed it.14 Some Mauritanians wavered between the desire for measures to starve those whose fortunes derived from the embezzlement of donor aid, and fears that sanctions would harm common citizens rather than those in power. The FNDD’s negligible weight within parliament belied the magnitude of the threat they posed, a symbolic menace with genuine import. Having forsaken the legitimacy conferred by legality, the junta could not claim popular legitimacy if it did not enjoy clear popular support. The junta and anti-junta front were locked in an unequal struggle that pitted the FNDD’s persistence against the HCE’s power. Perception was as important as reality, for perceptions shaped reality as political actors eyed the situation on the ground and jockeyed to best position themselves. Thus the crux of the junta’s fight lay in persuading citizens that the course of events was inexorably running in its favor. So long as the opposition movement could demonstrate momentum within their coalition and resonance with the broader population, the junta’s image of broad public support was jeopardized. And so the junta and its opponents began a battle of will and nerves. External Considerations

Maintaining a united front against the junta proved difficult when the country’s neighbors expressed support for the coup. Messaoud Ould Boulkheir condemned Senegalese president Abdoulaye Wade’s tacit support for the junta.15 In addition to the approval voiced by Wade, the HCE could count upon the support of Morocco, whose King

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Mohammed VI had expressed his support for a “roadmap” reached by parliament that would lead to constitutional normality in Mauritania.16 For its part, the international community could boast considerable leverage over Nouakchott in the autumn of 2008. This power was negated to a certain extent by the responsibilities it entailed. Withdrawing humanitarian aid was clearly out of the question – seventy percent of the country’s dietary staples were imported and nearly one million Mauritanians suffered from chronic malnourishment.17 The balance was a half-billion dollars of combined American, European and World Bank aid, a sizeable sum in a destitute country of three million. Among the projects that had been suspended or risked indefinite suspension numbered everything from demining, military training and counterterrorism operations to road construction, education projects and rural development initiatives. The World Bank froze seventeen projects worth $175 million dollars, and sent its personnel home on administrative leave without contacting the junta. The French Development Agency suspended its aid allocations for the next three years, which amounted at the time to some $142 million in total.18 The EU wielded by far the most power over the junta. In exchange for fishing rights the EU had committed to pay the junta roughly $426 million starting in late August, 2008. EU development and humanitarian aid commissioner Louis Michel, for his part, had recommended suspending payment, and the EU had also threatened to defer $230 million in development aid scheduled through 2013. The suspensions, according to one EU representative, who suggested the junta might brave them, would take six months before beginning to impede the government’s functions.19 Nouakchott might seek other partners, and fall back on its iron and oil wealth, but with reserves of only 600 million barrels and highly disappointing daily extraction rates this was far from sufficient. Strange Defeat

On September 11, 2008 the government called its security forces into the streets due to an unspecified security threat. In the following days, numerous police and gendarmerie patrols and checkpoints appeared in Nouakchott. In a twenty-four hour period September 13–14, police arrested some ten Islamists, thought to be preparing car bomb attacks against public buildings. The activity puzzled many Mauritanians, who had witnessed Taya’s manipulation of the issue. While there was no denying the terrorist threat, the operation appeared almost too

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conveniently timed, given the junta’s flagging credibility and illegitimacy in the eyes of the West.20 As the debate continued, tragedy struck. After receiving a tip-off, an army convoy of fifteen vehicles left the mining town of Zouerate to investigate, only to fall into a well-prepared ambush by presumed AQIM militants near Tourine, less than a hundred kilometers to the north. News of the soldiers’ fate shocked Mauritanians. Eleven soldiers and their civilian guide were found not far from the ambush site near Tourine, decapitated according to some accounts. An Internet communiqué, ostensibly from AQIM, had earlier claimed responsibility for the attack. Nouakchott proclaimed three days of national mourning.21 In the midst of Ramadan, public celebrations ceased. The deaths elicited troubling questions. For one, who had ordered the detachment to the fray late during the night of September 14? Most troops had fled as soon as they were fired upon, according to some accounts, abandoning their commander and eleven others to their fate. Another detachment in the vicinity and on the same mission had not intervened. Though the bodies were found not far from the ambush site, it had taken six days of searching to find them. Over the course of that week a glimmer of hope that they had been taken prisoner to be traded for prisoners emerged, fanned by the government.22 The defeat shook the government’s credibility on security affairs. The FNDD quickly condemned the attack, but also seized the opportunity to claim that the attack came as “proof that Mauritanian military forces present in these regions were not sufficiently equipped to properly discharge their mission, while the most sophisticated weapons and the army’s means are reserved for the coup and the repression of the people.”23 Mauritania’s press attributed the losses to corruption and incompetence within the military, and painted a dark portrait of an army routed in peacetime by its own leadership. While enlisted men lived on the edge, preoccupied entirely by how they would survive to the end of each month, many senior officers lived in Nouakchott villas and focused on misappropriating state monies, with their excursions for leisure misrepresented and reimbursed as professional training seminars.24 Lacking in training, weaponry, and equipment, the unit had been ordered to drive with their vehicles’ headlights blazing in the middle of the night. The unit’s sorry state and disregard for elementary tactical measures did not come as a surprise to their countrymen, however. Enlisted men had been reduced to the status of servants, waiting upon officers. Their senior leadership had fled their responsibility for the nation’s defense, devoting themselves since 1978 instead to coups and the pursuit of power and wealth. “All of Mauritania’s coups took place

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during crucial moments where the armed forces, and in particular its leadership, were confronted by their duties to defend the nation” from an aggressor. “Were these a case of necessity or alibi[s] [for flight]?” one columnist asked rhetorically. This same predatory military leadership had for the ensuing three decades sought to parlay its power for material rewards, paying off discontented junior officers with morsels from their spoils.25 Isolation and Defiance

Exactly seven weeks to the day following the coup, the African Union issued the junta an ultimatum, threatening targeted sanctions if they did not step down and restore Abdallahi to the presidency by October 6, sixty days after the coup. Those targeted by the AU Peace and Security Council’s resolution included not only uniformed officers within the junta but also their civilian supporters.26 The EU, whose rotating presidency fell to French president Nicolas Sarkozy at the time, declared unequivocally that it would never accept the junta. The junta’s officers remained almost dismissive in the face of the international community’s repeated warnings. “He’s now a former president, period. That’s all.” was Abdel Aziz’s laconic retort. “We cannot go backward,” he argued, leaving little room for ambiguity when solicited for his opinions on the AU ultimatum.27 He assured that following consultation sessions at the end of Ramadan free and fair elections would be organized, before noting that “we are taking all measures” against the threat of terrorism.28 The AU’s position was “unrealistic and illogical,” “neither constructive nor positive,” according to Abdel Aziz.29 Indeed, the junta continued in its confrontational path more forcefully than ever. Authorities banned the FNDD’s planned sit-in protest on the day when the international community’s response to the coup was being debated within the AU and the EU.30 Nor did the right to free speech seem sacrosanct for the junta. “I think that this country since the month of May has done nothing but demonstrate, and we’re going to cut down on this,” the junta’s prime minister announced, assuring in the same breath that “all demonstrations, in one sense or another” would be banned.31 The statement was all the more notable in that it was delivered in an interview with French radio, demonstrating the former ambassador’s disregard for reactions to the news abroad. The junta then went on the offensive against Abdallahi and his family. Two months after the coup the HCE revealed an Abdallahi administration agreement to pay a French public relations firm, Euro RSCG, 330,000 euros, or about $500,000 at the time, not including

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“technical expenses” and per diem, to be paid in increments of roughly $75,000 over the 2008 financial year. The services promised included lobbying the French government and the EU as well as press training of presidential staff. Other, more nebulous services involved “seizing opportunities” and “limiting identified potential risks.”32 Police allegedly forced Khattou Mint Boukhary out of her bedroom to bring her to face hearings before the Senate, without a warrant.33 Abdallahi could count on little sympathy from most Mauritanians, though, and no nostalgia for his rule. Describing his prisoner’s situation to a French journalist, Abdel Aziz was entirely unapologetic, instead admitting that he and other officers had supported Abdallahi during the presidential elections. “He was our candidate,” the general confessed. Mohamed Laghdaf dubbed the EU-financed 2007 presidential elections “a little show.” Questioned as to the prospect of sanctions, Abdel Aziz noted that “the Europeans […] have their principles” but seemed perfectly tranquil faced with the risks of economic repercussions. “If there are sanctions we’ll deal with them.” “Sidi’s return to the presidency is impossible,” Laghdaf curtly affirmed. “Anything else is negotiable.”34 The jailor had become his prisoner’s captive. Attempting to discredit his pawn-turned-adversary, the general unveiled his past transgressions in the democratic transition through his manipulation of the electoral process, as his chief adjutant ridiculed the same elections that the Europeans had financed, supervised and validated in the eyes of the world. Further, they did so on the eve of an ultimatum threatening sanctions, when the support of the EU in aborting sanctions was vital. Facing ultimatums from the AU and EU, the junta displayed the utmost serenity. Yet as one of the most aid-dependent countries in Africa, receiving $100 per inhabitant a year or practically a quarter of the GDP by some estimations, Mauritania stood to suffer severely under sanctions. Nouakchott had already seen the suspension of some 100 million euros, or $160 million at the time, in French development aid programmed over the next two years to coincide with Mauritania’s Second National Program to Combat Poverty.35 Terrorism’s effects on Mauritania’s tourist sector came home towards the end of a troubled Ramadan, only weeks before the commencement of the winter tourist season. Visitors for the 2007-2008 year, which had seen no less than four terrorist attacks, numbered only five thousand, compared to ten thousand the previous year. During the winter 2008-2009 season, with terrorism and international isolation, the number of tourists plummeted dramatically, leaving many tour guides out of work and hotels nearly deserted.36

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Had the junta hoped for concessions on the part of the AU, they were not forthcoming. The body repeated its call for a return to constitutionality and called upon its members not to recognize the new government.37 The deadlock continued. Over the course of two weeks, the junta and its opponents engaged in a series of diplomatic duels, with each presenting a delegation to represent the country at conventions abroad, forcing both delegations to confront one another and foreign sponsors to endorse a side in the country’s struggle. The junta continued to repress FNDD demonstrations in Nouakchott, sending riot police to crack down on the third protest within two weeks.38 Later, when presented a joint AU-EU ultimatum, the diplomatturned premier Laghdaf asserted “the negotiations went well,” “and for us were an occasion to enlighten our partners”39 in the EU, “who implicitly recognized over the course of the debate the rectification accomplished in our country.”40 The surrealism in the government line was evident in the title of an article by the state-run Mauritanian Information Agency: “our country benefits from considerable international support.” 41 In its isolation, the government began to fabricate international support. In mid-October, the state news agency reported the visit of Moustafa Touré, the head of the “International Human Rights Watch” – an unknown organization with no links to the well-known NGO Human Rights Watch – and Elie Hallassou, the mysterious organization’s “Secretary General.” Touré denied that a coup had taken place: “We had been led to believe that human rights were violated here, that there had been a coup, yet we have realized that that’s completely wrong, there hasn’t been a coup d’état in Mauritania. When there are coups, there are deaths, you hear gunfire […] there are at least political prisoners.”42

Such news might have surprised the incarcerated former president Abdallahi. “Here,” Touré continued, “the people decided to change presidents.” For his part Elie Hallasou remarked that in Nouakchott’s streets “everyone circulated freely” while “as the press proves, civil society freely exercises all of its rights” and “things are headed in the right direction.” For Touré, allowing the Mauritanian people to “determine their own future” constituted “one of the fundamental axes of human rights,” which he linked to “sovereignty, independence and autonomy.”43 The organization the two men purported to represent was listed neither in registries nor on the Internet in any form.

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On the Campaign Trail

Though the junta seemed oblivious to foreign reactions to its decisions, its domestic actions proved quite shrewd. Abdel Aziz toured Nouakchott’s port and some of its more impoverished neighborhoods before visiting Mauritania’s main public hospital. On each occasion he promised change, an incumbent president posturing for elections. At the beginning of a particularly difficult Ramadan, as prices and temperatures soared and discontent grew, the junta sought to implement the general’s promises. Among the first measures taken were price controls of staple items whose expense was at the heart of popular discontent.44 The new government announced the creation of a network of 230 benchmark stores in different neighborhoods to distribute staples45 at official prices, thus aiming to lower market prices. As Ramadan came to a close Abdel Aziz’s government deployed another series of economic policies to gain popular support, immediately in the hopes of building public support for the junta but equally important as part of a clear electoral strategy. The junta government announced ambitious programs to redistribute land to the urban poor in Nouakchott and Nouadhibou. A public transportation project was to employ six hundred workers. The initiative was a token effort in light of Nouakchott’s one million residents, but resonated thanks to the support of the state media.46 Shortly thereafter Petroleum and Energy Minister Di Ould Zein announced a 15% reduction in the price of gasoline from 303.3 ouguiyas per liter to 266 ouguiyas, reductions directly attributed to “instructions given by the president of the High State Council, General Mohamed Ould Abdel Aziz, in the aim of strengthening the purchasing power of citizens.” The minister later acknowledged that the reduction came in the wake of a global fall in oil prices,47 as the price had dropped by more than 50% since the junta had come to power. These populist measures were emblematic of the junta’s campaign to buy support. The general renamed a major thoroughfare after the country’s first president, Moktar Ould Daddah, after having received his widow, along with her comments that were construed as favorable to the “rectification movement.” In addition to paying homage to Ould Daddah’s ghost – an ironic stance for a junta leader – Abdel Aziz promised some $32.65 million for road construction. He also pledged to decrease water prices in Nouakchott’s outlying shanty-towns, where the poor paid up to thirteen times as much for water as those in Tevragh-Zeina, Nouakchott’s most affluent borough.48

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No distribution of perquisites or display of progress under the junta was too insignificant for press coverage. The completion of training for seventeen journalists, only a few of whom were Mauritanian, made the front page of the government-run daily.49 Abdel Aziz was publicly active on every front, visiting Nouakchott’s poorest neighborhood one day and convoking the country’s military leadership to demand greater success against Al Qaida the next. He seldom missed an opportunity to attribute the country’s difficulties to his predecessor. Firing back at opposition calls for sanctions, he charged that the state of “the poor is the consequence of the practices of the [past] administration and its officials, many of whom now call themselves democrats and call upon foreigners to starve the Mauritanian people.” As for Al Qaida, “in terms of preparation for the struggle against terrorism” Abdallahi had “done nothing.”50 The general neglected to add that he had been Abdallahi’s personal senior military adviser throughout his brief presidency. Only two months after the coup, the election season was well underway for Abdel Aziz. According to one parliamentarian from the UFP, part of the FNDD coalition, by mid-November the junta had already spent some fifty billion ouguiyas, roughly $134 million, in its attempts to win over the populace, while leading a campaign against corruption to “incarcerate and sully the Front [FNDD]’s leaders.”51 Regardless of its costs, however, what the opposition had dismissed as “shameless populism”52 was proving effective, and the yearning for a strong leader to resolve Mauritania’s many plagues – the ideal of the benevolent despot – remained. The junta’s populist crusades were such an effective stratagem in large part because of the tyranny of low expectations following decades of misrule. That a Mauritanian president might visit a Nouakchott ghetto, much less a half-dozen, was unthinkable. The junta certainly had not instigated the price cuts, as its supporters conceded, but unlike previous regimes the junta forced merchants to lower prices as they decreased internationally. In at least one aspect, the junta’s actions bore some long-term benefit for good governance in the country as a whole, as their energetic drives aimed at Nouakchott’s most neglected citizens fostered greater expectations for the future. The Struggle to Survive

Realizing that continuing its action was a matter of survival, the FNDD maintained its protests on the eve of the October 6 ultimatum. As sandy, 100-degree October winds enveloped Nouakchott, demonstrators braved riot police in a series of confrontations throughout the capital. On

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Tuesday, October 7, protestors again braved the government’s ban and took to the streets of Nouakchott. The demonstrations presented dissidents a difficult choice, given the certainty of the riot police’s violent reaction. As negotiations between the junta’s delegation and the AU advanced in Addis Ababa, demonstrators felt the imperative to battle to prove their movement survived. The Mauritanian Human Rights Association called upon the AU and UN to impose “targeted sanctions” on the junta,53 while an alliance of six labor unions organized demonstrations. As riot police fired tear gas and struck demonstrators with batons, groups of youth responded by pelting them with stones. Apparent bystanders responded with slogans denouncing the junta and supporting Abdallahi, and distinguishing between demonstrators and bystanders became increasingly difficult for journalists at the scene of the protests.54 In their demonstrations the junta’s opponents matched wits with police and again deployed guerrilla tactics and leaderless resistance, infiltrating the scenes of protests in scattered groups, concealing banners and photos of Abdallahi before their actions, initiating their protests in multiple locations in central Nouakchott and retreating temporarily only to reappear once the police had departed for other protests. Dispersion tactics forced the police to scurry across the center of town for hours. The strategy had the added advantage of clouding estimations of the demonstrators’ numbers. Ultimately, the junta’s persistence and, most importantly, its control of the state apparatus worked. The FNDD’s influence waned. Its call for demonstrations in central Nouakchott on November 12, 2008, went unheeded, part of a gradual weakening visible for several weeks. Protesting the blatant bias in official media coverage, for example, the FNDD had held a sit-in protest in front of Radio Mauritania in Nouakchott. Police rapidly dispersed the handful of protestors.55 Continued pressure from the junta and the prospect of attacking riot police had deadened the will of most of its activists to continue waging what appeared a fruitless struggle. A Changing Political Order

In its decision to repress the protests, though, the junta alienated potential political partners. The neutral opposition RFD party denounced an “escalation of the crisis,” responsibility for which it placed entirely at the hands of the junta’s “repression.”56 The miscalculation lay in the waste of yet another opportunity, for the largest opposition party had yet to takes sides. From the crisis’ inception, when RFD leader Ahmed Ould

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Daddah had immediately argued for the coup’s benefits before condemning it days later, the party had seen much to be gained from an alliance with the junta. By campaigning for the junta’s legitimacy and joining the junta’s government, Ould Daddah’s political machine stood to become the indispensable party and emerge triumphant from a crisis that had mangled the fortunes of the both the military and its political adversaries. Thus the RFD simultaneously defended the “freedom to demonstrate” and the importance of “public order,” calling for a “consensual end to the crisis” through a “national political dialogue” – the details of which remained elusive.57 Yet in attempting to play both sides the party began to splinter. Various RFD activists had already begun to leave the party in late September, arguing against a party line that at the whim of the RFD leader had dramatically shifted from one perceived to be genuflecting to the junta to one that verged on joining the opposition. In its gyrations in the face of constantly shifting political winds, the RFD under Ould Daddah was progressively depleting the party’s capital, the political credibility of a relatively well-organized party with solid opposition credentials, and the ranks of motivated and organized activists that together constituted the party’s appeal to the junta and its foes. If Ould Daddah’s abrupt change from supporting to condemning the junta disturbed some members, his secretive dalliances with the HCE, at a time when Abdel Aziz was unanimously called upon to compromise, cost him precious allies. Ibrahim Sarr and his AJD/MR party had gained through his alliance with the country’s main opposition figure and designated opposition leader, while offering the RFD the support of a young but vigorous party with a strong base in the Afro-Mauritanian south. Time passes quickly in Mauritanian politics, however, and two months after the coup Sarr tired of Ould Daddah’s unrelenting, unilateral search for an accommodation with the junta. He terminated the alliance, vowing to establish a party stance independent of the RFD, the junta, and the FNDD.58 In its autocratic dysfunctions, the RFD only mirrored the country’s other political parties, founded upon a leader rather than a platform. This atavism hinted towards their distant origins in Mauritania’s original ruling party, Moktar Ould Daddah’s People’s Party of Mauritania. Following independence the PPM had become more and more autocratic, with eligibility for internal election requiring designation by the party leader and other mechanisms used to perpetuate the leader’s undisputed rule. Contemporary politicians had been weaned on a single party model forty years in the past.

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Blinding Ties

The European Union anticipated commencing negotiations with the junta just as the military opened consultation sessions with Mauritania’s civil society, demonstrating flexibility and good faith. Its hopes were quickly dashed. Intimidation of former Abdallahi government members continued, with the arrest of a former minister as well as the former governor of the Mauritanian Central Bank59 shortly before talks with the EU. Days before negotiations with the EU commenced, Washington placed travel restrictions not only on the junta, but also on all who “support policies or actions that compromise the return of constitutional order to Mauritania.”60 The measure was clearly intended not only as a warning to the junta but to the oligarchs behind Mauritanian politics. But restrictions on traveling to America were the least of Abdel Aziz’s concerns. While many of Mauritania’s partners demanded the junta relinquish power and threatening sanctions, others took a far more moderate stance. Madrid’s motives for opposing sanctions on Mauritania in particular were more than a question of divergent interpretations of principles. Both its early refusal to condemn the coup categorically and the reticence Spanish Foreign Minister Miguel Moratino expressed in regards to sanctions earned Madrid the ire of the Mauritanian opposition, who were quick to point to the 89 out of 110 fishing licenses that were accorded to Spain under the EU-Mauritania fishing accord as motivating Spain’s decisions. In an interview with a Spanish daily, opposition leader Messaoud Ould Boulkheir raised Spain’s democratic transition, asking rhetorically “Are we not worthy of democracy?”61 It was through humor that Ould Boulkheir touched the heart of the matter, when the parliamentarian quipped that as soon as his opposition replaced the junta at Mauritania’s helm, like the Almoravids – a Moorish empire that had once spanned the Atlantic from Mauritania to Andalusia – “we’ll invade Europe.”62 The waves of immigrants from Mauritania’s shores that regularly undertook the perilous 200-mile journey to reach Spain’s Canary Islands presented a grave concern for a nation confronted simultaneously with mass immigration and a crippling economic recession. The increase in Spain’s development aid from four million euros in 2004 to 11.5 million in 2008 had come with reciprocal expectations.63 Yet EU expectations that the government would crack down on illegal immigration ignored the veritable industry behind it, employing numerous Mauritanians at every level, including police. “At one point in 2006, everyone got in the immigration business: gendarmes, policemen,

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fishermen,” one smuggler who ferried migrants in fishing boats claimed.64 European efforts to reduce the flow of immigrants “don’t work at all,” in his words. “Thanks to corruption, you can go out when you want, where you want. It’s really easy to corrupt the police, because they’re already corrupt.”65 In reality, any decreases in the tide of arrivals were not the result of increasing surveillance, but rather the diffidence of would-be immigrants who feared they might be cheated out of their life’s savings by smugglers.66 Often candidates for illegal immigration who were stopped and arrested found themselves robbed of their possessions by the arresting policemen or soldiers,67 who turned a blind eye to departing boats in exchange for sums nearing $1,000.68 Those arrested for attempting to emigrate after April 2006 were sent to a former schoolhouse that Spanish aid money had converted into a makeshift prison. Locals quickly dubbed the overflowing detention center “Guantánamo.”69 Nouakchott deported illegal emigrants to either Senegal or Mali, regardless of their country of origin, without much food and with no onward transportation.70 But they found themselves in better conditions than those expelled from neighboring Morocco. According to several accounts, these emigrants were led to a land-mine-ridden no man’s land between Morocco and Mauritania, where apart from the lethal Saharan war relics they faced disease, dehydration, and often death. Those expelled from Morocco could not return, yet without identity papers they were often prevented from entering Mauritania. Trapped in a desert purgatory, they found themselves entirely dependent on humanitarian organizations.71 The legal system was poorly adapted to handle the crisis. For one, leaving the republic with the intention of migrating illegally to another country contravened a forty-year old decree on presenting identity papers. But it was not a crime, and hence Nouakchott’s detention of suspected candidates for illegal immigration lacked judicial founding.72 Second, there were no legal grounds on which to judge asylum claims: no one had imagined refugees would ever seek asylum in Mauritania. Only in March 2005 were refugees entitled the same rights – formal rights – to work, social security, medical treatment and education as citizens.73 In an attempt to staunch the flow of immigrants, the Spanish foreign ministry had negotiated a wide-ranging accord, signed in July 2003 under Taya’s rule, whereby Spanish forces were stationed on Mauritanian soil expressly to restrict illegal emigration from Mauritania’s shores.74 Unsurprisingly, the accord between Nouakchott and Madrid, based on mutual interests, survived Taya’s fall, the CMJD,

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Abdallahi’s administration, and the August 6, 2008 coup. Even as relations with the West were most strained, cooperation on combating illegal immigration continued.75 The bilateral agreement gave Madrid the right to ask to repatriate illegal immigrants to Mauritania without incontrovertible evidence that they had originated in that country. In exchange, Madrid equipped the Mauritanian Navy with four patrol boats along with other equipment and training.76 Though the Spaniards could build on the Mauritanians’ security capacities, they could neither resolve the endemic corruption that facilitated illegal immigration nor prevent thousands throughout West Africa from venturing to Mauritania and risking their lives to flee misery. Both were but facets of a broader quandary that stretched beyond Mauritania’s borders, and that underpinned the EU’s aid efforts in Africa. Hence Madrid found itself trapped in what its diplomats privately confided was an “unwanted” and unreciprocated relationship with Nouakchott’s latest rulers. “Complex internal situations” made for bilateral cooperation that in the tactful parlance of Spain’s chagrined senior immigration official “isn’t all we would hope for.”77 Disorder in Mauritania and the presence of thousands of recent immigrants further deteriorated the country’s already lax border control, while Spanish diplomats were compelled to espouse the weakest position of any of Mauritania’s partners.78 Shortly thereafter EU Commissioner for Development and Humanitarian Aid Louis Michel presented Nouakchott an ultimatum, condemned the coup d’état as a “a catastrophic precedent that nothing could justify” and declared that a “solution resided in a return to legality, therefore to the president elected in a transparent election in which we were observers.”79 At the same time, Madrid vowed to maintain the “best level of relations” regardless of the regime in Nouakchott, however. A motion in the Spanish Senate supporting sanctions was unceremoniously crushed, was completely silent.80 The Limits of Persuasion

The vaunted November 20 ultimatum announced by the EU was scuttled the day before its expiration. The Europeans wavered. Meeting in Addis Ababa, representatives of the EU, AU, the Arab League, the Organization of the Islamic Conference, and the Arab Maghreb Union announced their desire to give dialogue another chance, sending yet another high-level delegation to Nouakchott.81 As though on cue, the Arab Investment and Agricultural Development Authority announced a $100 million subsidy for Mauritania,82 underscoring the limits of the West’s influence on Nouakchott through the multiplicity of alternative

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donors with diverging agendas. The general could be confident that Western threats rang hollow. Nouakchott’s advantage was proving to be its very instability, its ability to convince its partners that sanctions and isolation would only risk creating a failed state infested with Al Qaida terrorists, drug traffickers and illegal immigrants on Europe’s southern flank. On November 28, 2008, Mauritania staggered into its forty-ninth year of independence with little celebration. Symbols of national unity were appropriated by partisans of the junta and its opponents, with Abdallahi and dozens of his supporters holding a flag raising ceremony in his village capital while the junta hosted substantially grander festivities in Nouakchott. There, Abdel Aziz committed not to retain power, justified the coup as “saving the country from dangers,” and promised consultation sessions that would determine the modalities and duration of the promised democratic transition.83 Shortly thereafter, a senior-level French delegation arrived in Nouakchott, led by Romain Serman, an advisor to President Nicolas Sarkozy’s Elysée from its famed African section, as well as Philippe Etienne, an advisor to French foreign minister Bernard Kouchner.84 The pair represented two sometimes-conflicted wings of French foreign policy. The positions of the Quai d’Orsay mandarins were generally characterized as more realist by virtue of the Foreign Ministry’s emphasis on pragmatic diplomacy and decades of realpolitik towards post-colonial Africa. In contrast, the Elysée’s advisors served to implement the restless president’s transformational agenda. In the case of Mauritania, French policy had retained an external consistency that belied internal contradictions between ground realities in Nouakchott that favored the junta and normative desires to punish a coup and restore a semblance of a democratic model in Mauritania. United in the delegation, both entities undertook an “exploratory mission,” sounding out Abdel Aziz, opposition leader Ahmed Ould Daddah, and Abdallahi ahead of further visiting delegations it was hoped would clench an agreement “to resolve the crisis in a framework fixed by the international community.”85 Notably absent from their itinerary was Ely Ould Mohamed Vall, whose meteoric ascension in the aftermath of Abdallahi’s fall as both a potential intermediary and political contender appeared to have vanished with equal celerity. Realism had prevailed. For the international community, there were no acceptable means with which to restrain the junta from the choices it had decided upon. No one was willing to use force to intervene in an Arab nation and return Abdallahi to power. A consensus-based solution, preferably among Mauritanians and likely within the framework of the

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African Union, appeared more advisable. For this reason, France’s ambassador to Mauritania had encouraged all parties to participate in the “estates general of democracy.”86 Turning East

While relations with the West remained strained, Nouakchott’s ties to Beijing were as strong as ever. China and Libya’s cordial relations with the junta revealed a broader change underway in Mauritania’s foreign relations under the military, which itself was but one sign of a powerful current coursing through international relations at the crest of a rising autocratic tide. Several emerging powers faced criticism for basing their policies not on principle but upon economic growth and expansionism. Though most critics focused on China, many castigated Brazil and India for their expansionist policies, and for justifying them by embracing a self-serving brand of cultural relativism.87 But the crisis’ escalation only magnified the growing importance of Nouakchott’s relationship with Beijing, regardless of who held power. If the Western aid donors’ responses to the coup had varied widely, from Madrid’s accommodation to Washington’s condemnations, Beijing’s represent-atives, true to tradition, had not expressed any opinions on the sudden change in their interlocutors. Instead, days after the AU’s proclamation of sanctions a visiting senior Chinese official signed a $100 million accord with Sidi Ould Tah, the junta’s minister of economic affairs and development.88 A day later, Mauritania’s Senate ratified a lending accord between Nouakchott and Beijing worth nearly $295 million.89 Beijing did not trifle with questions of its partners’ internal politics. The commitment followed Chinese President Hu Jintao’s visit to four African countries, his sixth visit to the continent in less than six years as president and his second since 2006, during which he reiterated his pledge to support the development of African countries,90 just as budget shortfalls compelled other donors to curb their largesse. China’s emergence as a rising political power followed its spectacular economic growth and the ramifications of that growth in the continent. Total trade between China and Africa had soared by 45% between 2007 and 2008 alone, reaching $106 billion in 2008 before dropping after the financial meltdown.91 In Mauritania, China had at a stroke promised half the funding that the World Bank had suspended, dedicating it to tangible public works projects that secured local support while providing employment to growing numbers of expatriate Chinese. The skillful exercise of soft power, rivaling former colonial powers and America throughout Africa, fundamentally modified the balance of

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power between the West and developing nations, which could look East so long as they possessed natural resources. In addition to natural resources, Africa offered a growing market for lower-end consumer goods, and a plethora of votes in the UN General Assembly. The continent had become indispensable to Beijing’s goals to fuel its economy, diversify its export-driven economy’s trading partners and secure a place on the world stage as a major power in a multipolar world. Such global ambitions meant little in Mauritania, but that winter Nouakchott’s beleaguered generals welcomed any foreign support. Chinese investment was forthcoming, delegations of businessmen intent on building Sino-Mauritanian commercial relations toured the country, including those representing six Chinese businesses intent on investing in all sectors.92 China’s major corporations were not alone refusing to await the crisis’ resolution to do business in Mauritania. Muammar Qadhafi laid the cornerstone of Hotel El Vateh in person. A luxurious high rise shaped as a palm tree and situated in Nouakchott’s best neighborhood, what was billed as Mauritania’s first five-star hotel was financed entirely by Libyan investors.93 The junta openly flaunted visits by delegations of investors, received with great pomp and ceremony by the Commissioner for the Encouragement of Investment, Ba Houdou Abdoul,94 as incontrovertible proof refuting claims that their actions were isolating the country diplomatically. A Butterfly Effect

The events in Gaza could not have come at a better time for the junta, which cited the “continuous bombing carried out by Israel that daily provoked numerous innocent victims among children, women, and the elderly” in recalling its ambassador to Israel for consultations.95 The mounting death toll in the Gaza strip, conveyed to the sitting rooms of many Mauritanians by satellite television and portrayed in horrifyingly graphic detail, evoked outrage throughout the country and brought Nouakchott’s residents into the streets as the country’s political crisis never had. From the beginning of Israel’s attack on Gaza, the junta had kept an attentive ear to an issue that resonated deeply within one of only three Arab League members that maintained diplomatic relations with Israel. After several wars, Egypt and Jordan had forged a cold peace with their neighbor and opened embassies. Mauritania was thousands of miles from the conflict’s epicenter, yet sympathetic to the Palestinians’ condition. Nouakchott’s decision to raise relations with Israel to the

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ambassadorial level had not been dictated by necessity but by Taya’s attempt in 1999 to gain favor with the West. Branded with the stigma associated with the dictator and perceptions of opportunism, a staple of campaign rhetoric by opposition politicians, the decision was deeply unpopular and had never been accepted by most Mauritanians. As the bombing continued and IDF ground troops pushed into Gaza, Abdel Aziz seized upon a groundswell of public outrage and recalled his ambassador in Tel-Aviv.96 In addition to public support, such courses of action hinted towards the possibility of support from other quarters. Soon after the recall a senior delegation from Tehran, led by VicePresident Mohamed Ridha Rahima, called on Abdel Aziz to deliver a message of Iranian president Mahmoud Ahmadinejad’s appreciation for the general’s recent decision.97 Gaza’s reverberations, however, soon posed a problem as protests took a violent turn. On Sunday, January 4, 2009, thousands attempted to march from the Palestinian embassy to the Israeli embassy. When prevented from reaching the Israeli embassy, which some intended to seize, infuriated students scuffled with riot police. Five days later, fighting between demonstrators and policemen again erupted during protest rallies. It soon became clear the demonstrations were spiraling out of control. The government took action, warning that it would pursue those responsible for the demonstrations’ degeneration into mob violence. Chief among those presumed culprits targeted was the Islamist Tawassoul party, which had been instrumental in organizing consecutive days of protests over Gaza.98 What role or interest an established party, characterized as a “moderate Islamist” party by its supporters, might have in connection with the attacks was unclear. However, the anti-junta Tawassoul was henceforth warned that the government had grounds on which to prosecute its members or ban the party. What might have been a crisis became yet another opportunity for the junta. The ramifications of the violence were disconcerting for those observers looking for evidence of a wellspring of local support for democracy in the desert nation. Mobs were willing not only to defy but even to attack riot police, in street fighting that left a police van ablaze and dozens wounded but contributed little to the Palestinian cause. Yet demonstrations against the junta that had toppled Mauritania’s elected president attracted few demonstrators, who were easily crushed by police. Unlike demonstrations against the government, marches in favor of Palestine had long served as the sole occasion permitted for expressing discontent, sanctioned by successive governments since Moktar Ould Daddah’s presidency. Palestine was an undisputed cause uniting all Arabs, and the most recent outbreak of violence in Gaza

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brought together Mauritanians of all walks of life who joined in demonstrations, from student groups that marched to associations of the physically handicapped that staged sit-ins.99 When Abdel Aziz announced Mauritania’s suspension of diplomatic relations with Israel, together with the Qatari government,100 his decision was widely acclaimed. At the Doha summit of Arab and Islamic nations, Abdel Aziz took care only to suspend relations, not break them, as Venezuela and Bolivia had done. Ten years before, Washington had encouraged Taya to fully recognize Israel. Given America’s relationship with Israel and the minimal activities of Israel’s embassy in Nouakchott most Mauritanians saw diplomatic relations not as ties with Israel but rather as a triangular relationship placating Washington by accepting its ally. Abdel Aziz pocketed an incentive that might be offered the Americans for their support after the 2009 elections. To the international community, the junta could only reiterate Abdel Aziz’s assurances that he did not intend to remain in power, combined with its pledge to hold consultation sessions of the “estates general of democracy.” There, the junta promised, it would “define the duration of the transition period and the appropriate conditions for the organization of a transparent and democratic presidential election.”101 Civil society could either participate, knowing that the junta controlled the process and that their very participation lent the process credibility, or boycott the events with the understanding that, given how many civic organizations were fronts created overnight to represent the interests of an individual, ample participation in consultation sessions was guaranteed. The numerous front organizations highlighted the bankruptcy of the West’s cult of civil society, not only in Mauritania but throughout the world. In the words of one activist and scholar active in Burmese dissident politics for over twenty years, the celebration of civil society as the “game changers and nation-builders” is misguided. The current trend towards the idealization of civil society reflected Western policies, which “are always changing, much like fashions.”102 Staging Dialogue

The “estates general of democracy” commenced without the participation of those who opposed the junta within the ranks of the FNDD.103 From December 27 to January 6, in seven main workshops, some fifteen hundred participants debated issues ranging from the role of the military in a democracy to the conditions of forthcoming elections. By the following weekend, the dialogue’s nature had become

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apparent even to those with an interest in its success. Having supported a coup he, like the junta, had labeled a “rectification,” Ahmed Ould Daddah and the RFD announced a “suspension” of their participation. Ould Daddah claimed it was merely a pause, but protested the excessive number of participants which “complicated the [event’s] bearing and results.”104 As Ould Daddah would charge days later, these participants were there by design, ensuring the junta’s say in the roadmap for a resolution to the crisis. The RFD criticized an opaque process that filled the meeting halls with “known sycophants who have applauded successive regimes” as opposed to civil society members of integrity. The party decried the “deliberate maintenance of an atmosphere of confusion” throughout the process so as to keep civil society and political parties off kilter. The estates general’s concluding reports bore little relation to the demands and opinions expressed during the animated debates that characterized the sessions, it claimed. Lastly, the RFD blasted a “veritable electoral campaign with the blessings of the official authorities” that ran during and prior to the consultation sessions, with the support of official media coverage and complete with open calls by public figures and officials to vote for the head of the junta, Abdel Aziz.105 Ould Daddah could only conclude that the assemblies’ conclusions were “contrary to the foundations of democracy and the best interests of the country.”106 Ould Daddah was not alone. Others were equally “despairing,” lambasting the throngs representing “fictitious NGOs” and political parties that called for constitutional amendments, and most of all the menacing specter of a “Turkish-style” national security council along with the general’s candidacy. The denouement seemed already scripted, in the words of editorialist Ahmed Ould Cheikh. He foretold the triumph of “a soldier who arrived in power on tanks, traded his fatigues for a suit, runs for election and wins them effortlessly thanks to his overwhelming position and this weathervane political class.” Such an opportunistic political class assisted in the junta’s consolidation of power, hoping for a place in the post-junta political environment.107 In many respects, the estates general had been no different from those previous sessions organized by the CMJD junta some thirty months before, only without the hope and anticipation that came from an unknown outcome. The junta had prepared these sessions thoroughly, from their commencement to their conclusions. Few parties welcomed major reforms – the RFD had campaigned against a constitutional amendment that included reducing the presidency’s quasi-monarchical powers, for example.108 Those who saw themselves in power arguably had little incentive to reduce those entitlements. But beneath the veneer

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of political barons jockeying for positions in the government to come, an energized cohort of civically-engaged and independent-minded Mauritanians had concluded that major reforms were imperative and the need for their implementation urgent. Significantly, the official report concluded that most participants in the estates general had advocated for major constitutional amendments, focusing on the president’s election and impeachment, a better balance between a muscular executive and a weak legislative branch of government, and a more defined stature within the constitution for the military. If the report was so comprehensive, however, it was because it was in effect a litany of all demands posed during the estates general. These demands included Abdel Aziz’s candidacy in the forthcoming presidential elections and a constitutional role for the military as a tutelary institution along Turkish lines. The nature of the report allowed its commissioners to cull demands from the document and implement them on the grounds of satisfying the popular will. Thus the report recommended definitive dates for presidential elections: a first round on Saturday, May 30, 2009, and a second round in the event no candidate would win a majority in the first round on Saturday, June 13.109 African Disunity

In response African Union Chairman Jean Ping did not trifle with diplomatic niceties in his judgment of the junta: “the authors of the coup d’état in Mauritania intend to confiscate democracy – and for a long time.”110 “There is no such thing as a good coup d’état,” Tanzanian Foreign Minister Bernard Membe argued, contradicting Senegalese president Abdoulaye Wade’s description of Guinea’s December 23, 2008 coup.111 Beyond questions of principle, Membe and his colleagues had a most tangible reason to take such a firm stance: self-preservation. All knew that in several failing states throughout the continent would-be coup plotters skulked within the praetorian guards upon which teetering leaders depended. Aging republican monarchs such as Omar Bongo, Gabon’s president from 1967 to 2009, or Paul Biya, Cameroon’s president since 1982, who had piloted their unending reelections for decades, represented what was presented as the human face of democracy to far too many in the continent. Nonetheless, there was no appetite for encouraging the transition of power through putsches. An undeniable shift had markedly changed the face of sub-Saharan Africa’s leadership from the Cold War era. More African heads of state were civilian

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politicians rather than soldiers turned chief executives through coups. Their corporate interest rested in that trend. Despite their opposition to the HCE’s coup, neither the African Union nor its partners could bring themselves to act decisively. Upon meeting in late January, the AU and associated groups once again postponed their summit on Mauritania from February 5 to February 20. The EU tied its decisions to the AU’s,112 creating paralysis. The summit of African leaders had ended in discord over Qadhafi’s election to the body’s helm and his pronouncements on the inexorability of a United States of Africa.113 Internal dynamics pitted an intergovernmentalist majority, which valued national sovereignty and saw the AU as an intergovernmental consultative body, against Pan-Africanists such as Qadhafi. Other crises, from the coup in Guinea to the riots and pronunciamento in Madagascar, diverted attention from Mauritania’s constitutional conundrum. Days later, however, and after six hours of deliberations, the AU’s Peace and Security Council announced “a ban on the movement of both civilian and military members of the junta,” presumably directed towards senior civilian leaders in the government established by the all-military junta, complete with the refusal to grant visas and the examination of bank accounts.114 Defiance

Reactions to sanctions varied along the political spectrum, but their consequences elicited universal trepidation. The thirteen parties within the FNDD coalition attempted to protest, only to have their demonstration banned.115 Parties allied with the junta, such as the Arab nationalist HATEM, construed the measures as “foreign interference” and evoked the defense of national sovereignty and independence.116 Parliamentarians supporting the junta, who largely outnumbered those opposing the coup, and of whom eleven had traveled to Addis Ababa to lobby the organization,117 expressed indignation. Others – and not necessarily junta opponents – judged to the contrary that those most distressed by the targeted sanctions and the ending of aid projects would reside within a small coterie surrounding Abdel Aziz, and well-placed bureaucrats who had amassed vast fortunes. That embezzled aid revenue lay behind much of this affluence was considered an open secret, and so some welcomed the prospect of the source being tapped as a curative treatment for the nation. Regardless of the potential sanctions, there seemed no stopping the general: “Abdel Aziz is in the running for a term whatever may come, and sanctions are not what will stop him. Only, the people will pay the bill.”118

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Abdel Aziz dismissed the consequences of the sanctions in his first public address following their imposition. As the sanctions were targeted at HCE members, who had no bank accounts in Africa or Europe, he reasoned, there was to be little effect.119 The junta’s response eschewed modesty for magnanimity. Three days after the announcement of sanctions, the HCE’s secretary general, Colonel Ahmedou Bemba Ould Baye, admonished the AU for “not only ignoring the positive measures and evolution on the ground since the advent of the Rectification Movement but also the desire for openness displayed in all the endeavors attempted by our partners in the search for a way out of the current situation in hopes of a return to constitutional order.” Despite the AU’s errors, the junta assured that its hand “remains outstretched to all of Mauritania’s partners so that they might deepen their view […] [and] accompany the ongoing evolution, and this in the strict respect of the choices of our people.”120 The Undefeatable Candidacy

At the same time the AU was decreeing sanctions against his loyalists, and four months before presidential elections were to be held, Abdel Aziz floated a trial balloon with an air of spontaneity. News leaked from a ministerial council that the general had declared that he would run for office. “The country’s situation demands it,” he declared. His ministers applauded him, but his government would neither confirm nor deny the report.121 . Abdel Aziz’s affirmation that he would run came in response to a minister’s question at the very end of the council – but after several of his ministers had traveled through the Mauritanian heartland to drum up support for the general’s candidacy.122 With a free hand, the junta was able to reset the election date from May 30 to June 6, a convenient date that made for a ten-month transition process.123 Despite widespread skepticism and opposition from the FNDD, the junta pursued its agenda, duplicating the CMJD’s plans two years before by establishing an Independent National Elections Commission (CENI) to supervise and execute the presidential elections.124 Along with the June 6 presidential elections, the junta announced a constitutional referendum to be held on June 20.125 In its terse communiqué it offered no other details as to the content of the constitution’s amendments. Over the course of the “Estates General of Democracy” various constitutional reforms had been discussed, most centering on limiting the powers of a monarchical presidency. Opposition parties such as the RFD strongly opposed such reforms during the estates general, expressing their objection to modifications

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passed hastily in a time of crisis, without consulting political parties and constitutional experts. Who among the many men present who aspired to the office would want to limit his powers? cynics asked.126 Rather than limiting the president’s powers, the junta might well institutionalize the military’s role within politics, along the lines of Turkey’s National Security Council. Following the 1960 coup, Turkey’s military, which had long played a role in domestic politics and would continue to launch coups in 1971, 1980 and 1997, formalized its power through an ostensibly security-oriented body with political prerogatives in a 1961 constitutional reform. After the 1980 coup, the military’s role was only strengthened through the passage of the 1982 constitution,127 though its role would be lessened following a September 2010 referendum. The junta might remove term limits, prolong terms, or otherwise increase the powers of the citizen who “incarnated” the state. The announcements merely revealed components of the junta’s strategy towards the international community. Abdel Aziz’s consecration as Mauritania’s long-term ruler, the presidential powers he might wield, and the sanctification by referendum of the military’s stranglehold on politics all constituted bargaining chips, deterrents, and perhaps end goals. The means might prove the ends, as HCE’s president had been campaigning informally for president since the first month of the junta’s rule. Through these deterrents and the strategic ambiguity he had generated, he intended to leverage as many concessions from the international community as they were willing to offer. Internally, the general maintained support within the military by rewarding his supporters within the institution. At the time of his 2005 coup, there were no generals in the Mauritanian military. By February 2009, there were six. Internal and foreign opposition to the junta fed off one another, with the donor community’s rejection of the coup heartening the junta’s domestic opponents, and the persistence of a home-grown opposition movement convincing Mauritania’s partners that theirs was a tenable stance in keeping with popular will as well as principle. In this contest, numbers mattered, and the presence of thousands in a hastily organized demonstration of support reinforced the FNDD’s claims. And so Messaoud Ould Boulkheir taunted the junta. “The putsch will never succeed, the coup has been vanquished, the coup-makers are routed,” Boulkheir defiantly and somewhat precipitately exclaimed before thousands of supporters gathered in a Nouakchott stadium. Declaring the elections a “masquerade,”128 he deemed his opponents’ presumption that the alliance would fragment sorely mistaken.129 The realities girding his coalition contradicted him.

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An Alliance of Enemies

An enfeebled Ahmed Ould Daddah was forced to call for negotiations. Internal divisions had wracked Ould Daddah’s party as its cadres splintered into various factions over the coup and contested his authority. The RFD’s vice-president Hamidou Baba Kane had quit to run for the presidency, taking with him a sizeable splinter group. Ould Daddah’s party had situated itself in what came to be known widely as the “neither, nor” camp, rejecting both Abdallahi’s return to power and Abdel Aziz’s candidacy in the impending presidential elections.130 Standing between the junta and its numerous political supporters on one end of the reconfigured political spectrum, and the FNDD on the other, the RFD sought to barter its position dearly. But duped by the junta, and thwarted in its hopes of becoming the dominant partner in a pro-junta government, the RFD joined the anti-junta FNDD coalition in opposing the putsch and General Abdel Aziz’s looming victory. The alliance yielded scenes unimaginable scarcely weeks before. Twenty anti-junta legislators staged a sit-in in parliament, forcing the pro-junta majority to vacate the premises as demonstrators outside the building supported them. Police chased the demonstrators off, but allowed the opposition parliamentarians to continue their sit-in. Before, FNDD legislators had only been able to boycott parliamentary sessions, ineffectually. The junta, however, had the luxury of appearing indulgent toward the opposition lawmakers’ behavior, as its supporters in parliament chastised their disruptive peers engaged in an “anti-democratic” sit-in. The nascent, pro-junta Union for the Republic Party numbered eightythree out of 151 national assemblymen.131 Its sole platform was support of the now retired general’s candidacy. Centrifugal forces within the FNDD only grew as the stalemate persisted. Abdel Aziz’s policies over the course of his tenure as head of the HCE junta exploited the pre-existing fractures. As one commentator noted, Abdel Aziz had done more to further Tawassoul’s agenda than any politician in memory, expelling the Israeli diplomats before suspending relations with the state, and allying himself during negotiations in Doha with Arab nations favorable to recognition of Hamas as a Palestinian interlocutor. This was only accentuated when the FNDD published a communiqué praising America for its policies against the junta, only to face Tawassoul’s public disavowal.132 As incongruous was the leftist UFP’s support for the declaration. The inevitable tensions in such an alliance, where the putatively Islamist Tawassoul party found itself allied with the formerly Marxist UFP, consistently handicapped the FNDD. The façade of unity could not

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conceal the personal enmities and tensions behind an alliance of convenience. Paths of Resistance

In the end, the FNDD’s leadership proved its greatest weakness. The coalition’s claims to legitimacy suffered when those defending constitutional order were the same political barons who had enriched themselves under the Taya and Abdallahi presidencies. Many had come to be known in Hassaniya Arabic as “rumuz el vessad” – symbols of corruption.133 Their activism on the part of democracy appeared as the epitome of hypocrisy in the eyes of the common citizenry, the brazen defense of their financial interests and power in the name of higher principles. Abdel Aziz’s camp had wisely played upon this contradiction by centering his campaign on combating corruption and serving the poor and the weak. For Abdel Aziz campaigned in the midst of an immense change within the public mentality. The anti-junta alliance may have been ineffectual on its own, but its very existence allowed the international community to pressure the junta. Emergent opposition movements, despite the interests of some of their leaders, presented evidence of gradual change within Mauritania’s society, most importantly among its elites. For the first time the military’s hegemony was contested, while the neopatrimonial elite, like the populace, found itself divided between pro-Abdallahi and pro-Abdel Aziz camps, in addition to rejectionist factions who scorned both. The presence of figures complicit in the worst practices of the Taya and Abdallahi governments was undeniable, as were the questionable methods of some of their supporters. After Al Jazeera had aired several reports perceived as favorable to the junta, for instance, enraged trade unionists cornered Al Jazeera cameraman Mohamed Ould Moustafa and beat him severely.134 That they campaigned for democracy did not necessarily imply their means and their values were democratic. At every instance, the FNDD’s parallel diplomacy and domestic advocacy harried the junta and prevented the consolidation of its power. In and of itself its capabilities were minimal, as police repression scattered demonstrations that consisted of mere pockets of a few dozen demonstrators. The Front’s degree of support within the population was unknown due to the lack of reliable polling, but it certainly could not be qualified as overwhelming. The FNDD’s value, however, was symbolic. So long as organized opposition to the junta remained, the HCE’s fait accompli could not be accepted. Token displays of resistance within and parallel diplomacy

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outside Mauritania’s borders proved the difference in the first few months following the August 6, 2008 coup between the coup’s reluctant acceptance on the part of several key members of the international community, and the prolongation of the crisis which signified failure to the junta. Directly and indirectly, the coalition contributed to progress in Mauritania’s political maturity. The Front illustrated a considerable evolution in the part of the elites’ attitudes towards politics. And by pressuring the junta to engage fully in a struggle to prove its support among the populace, the coalition was to play a crucial role in the development of popular expectations of government.

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1 AMI, Mauritanie/Gouvernement – Composition du nouveau gouvernement, August 31, 2008. 2 AFP, Mauritanie: formation d’un gouvernement par la junte militaire, September 1, 2008. 3 According to the ministers’ official biographies, published in the state newspaper Horizons, Biographies des membres du Gouvernment, Horizons, N. 4813, September 3, 2008. 4 PANA, Mauritanie: Le PM évoque d'éventuels amendements constitutionnels, September 6, 2008. 5 AFP, Mauritanie : La junte appelée à libérer le président, September 4, 2008. 6 Nouvelobs.com, Mauritanie: La France estime le nouveau gouvernement illégitime, September 1, 2008. 7 APA, Washington ne reconnaît pas le nouveau gouvernement en Mauritanie, September 2, 2008. 8 Xinhua, Un front poltique mauritanien en tournée africaine pour dénoncer le putsch, August 29, 2008. 9 Xinhua, Burkina Faso/Mauritanie: Un cinéaste mauritanien plaide pour le retour à une vie constitutionnelle normale, March 3, 2009. 10 Xinhua, Mauritanie: Des maires s’opposent au nouveau gouvernement nommé par le pouvoir militaire, September 3, 2008. 11 Xinhua, Mauritanie: l'Ordre des avocats exige la libération de l'ancien président Abdallahi, September 19, 2008. 12 Communiqué from the International Trade Union Confederation, Mauritanie : Les syndicats en appellent à L'ONU pour restaurer la démocratie, August 28, 2008. 13 AFP, Mauritanie: Le FNDD “mal compris”, ne se prononce pas contre les sanctions, August 29, 2008. 14 Xinhua, La société civile mauritanienne indignée face aux discours de certains partenaires liés au putsch, September 1, 2008. 15 Gueye, Baye Oumar, Messaoud Boulkheir, Président de l’Assemblée Nationale de la Mauritanie : « La sortie de Me Wade gêne profondément la Mauritanie militante », Sud Quotiden, September 12, 2008. 16 MAP, S.M. le Roi reçoit un émissaire du président du Haut conseil d'Etat mauritanien, Le Matin, September 20, 2008. 17 IRIN, Mauritanie : L’impact humanitaire des sanctions après le coup d’Etat militaire, September 19, 2008. 18 Ibid. 19 Ibid. 20 Wade, Bechirou, Menaces terrorists: Vues d’esprits ou réalités ?, La Tribune, N. 416, September 16, 2008. 21 AMI, Un deuil national de trois jours décrété, September 20, 2008. 22 Tahalil Hébdo, Deuil National et Questions sans Réponses, September 21, 2008. 23 PANA, Le FNDD condamne “l’agression” contre l’armée, September 16, 2008. 24 Aïdara, Cheikh, Quelle armée reconstruire ?, L’Authentique, September 22, 2008.

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25 Ould Meyne, Mohameden, L’armée se fait encore attaquer dans la partie septentrionale du pays: On perd le Nord, Le Calame, September 23, 2008. 26 AFP, L’UA menace la Mauritanie de sanctions, September 24, 2008. 27 Xinhau, Mauritanie : le général Aziz exclut la possibilité de retour au pouvoir du président Abddallahi, September 28, 2008. 28 Ibid. 29 AFP, Mauritanie: le chef de la junte rejette l’ultimatum de l’Union Africaine, September 27, 2008. 30 Xinhua, Mauritanie : le FNDD condamne l’interdiction d’un sit-in de protestation contre le coup d’Etat, September 25, 2008. 31 AFP, Mauritanie: le gouvernement va interdire toutes les manifestations, October 1, 2008. 32 Tuquoi, Jean-Pierre, La chute de "Sidi" freine les bonnes affaires d'Euro RSCG à Nouakchott, Le Monde, October 6, 2008. 33 Xinhua, Mauritanie : l'épouse du président déchu, devant une commission d'enquête au Sénat, September 26, 2008. 34 Tuquoi, Jean-Pierre, Les putschistes mauritaniens confortent leur pouvoir, Le Monde, October 6, 2008. 35 Diarra, Amadou, Crise: Le HCE à la croisée des chemins, Le Rénovateur Quotidien, October 6, 2008. 36 Rivière, Manon, La crise s’installe dans la région touristique de l’Adrar, RFI, November 23, 2008. 37 Xinhua, L'UA invite ses membres à rejeter les dirigeants putschistes en Mauritanie, October 9, 2008. 38 AFP, Mauritanie: le Front anti-putsch manifeste avant d'être dispersé, October 15, 2008. 39 Hugueux, Vincent, Mauritanie: le vain plaidoyer des putschistes, L’Express, October 20, 2008. 40 AMI, Le Premier Ministre: Notre pays bénéficie d’un large soutien international lors de la réunion des ACP et de la rencontre de Paris, October 20, 2008. 41 Ibid. 42 AMI, Le Président de l'observatoire international des droits de l'homme: "Ce qui s'est passé en Mauritanie n'est pas un coup d'Etat et les droits de l'homme dans le pays sont entièrement respectés", October 12, 2008. 43 Ibid. 44 PANA, Baisse des prix pour le Ramadan en Mauritanie, September 1, 2008. 45 PANA, SONIMEX : Des magasins-témoins pour le Ramadan en Mauritanie, September 4, 2008. 46 Bouatta, Djamel, La junte mauritanienne annonce des mesures sociales, Liberté, October 21, 2008. 47 APA, Baisse de 15% des prix du carburant en Mauritanie, October 21, 2008. 48 Unsigned reporting in the state French-language news daily, Horizons, Le Chef de l’État donne le coup d’envoi d’un grand chantier de voirie urbaine, N. 4857, November 7, 2008, pp. 4-5. 49 Horizons, Changements climatiques au Maghreb: 17 journalistes formés, N. 4846, October 22, 2008.

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50 AFP, Mauritanie/terrorisme: la junte appelle l'armée à plus de vigilance, October 13, 2008. 51 APA, Mauritanie: L'UFP accuse la junte en Mauritanie d'avoir dépensé 134 millions de dollars dans l'achat de conscience, November 19, 2008. 52 AFP, Mauritanie: face au rejet international, la junte s’affiche proche du peuple, December 5, 2008. 53 PANA, La FIDH et l'AMDH pour des "sanctions ciblées" en Mauritanie, October 7, 2008. 54 AFP, Mauritanie: heurts à Nouakchott, l'UA pour le retour du président renversé, October 8, 2008. 55 AFP, Mauritanie: sit-in des anti-putschistes contre la “partialité” des médias publics, October 30, 2008. 56 RFD Standing Committee, Communiqué, Nouakchott, October 7, 2008, in addition to AFP, Mauritanie: la répression des manifestations, "début d'un engrenage dangereux", October 8, 2008. 57 RFD Permanent Committee, Communiqué, Nouakchott, October 7, 2008 58 Camara, Samba, Sarr Ibrahim/Ould Daddah : Je t’aime, moi non plus, Biladi, October 21, 2008. 59 PANA, Mauritanie: Interpellation d’un ex-ministre, October 20, 2008. 60 Xinhua, Washington annonce des mesures de restrictions à l'encontre d'autorités mauritaniennes, October 18, 2008. 61 De Vega, Luis, El líder del Parlamento de Mauritania, vía de salida de cayucos, clama contra Zapatero, ABC, October 10, 2008. 62 Ibid. 63 Ibid. 64 AFP, Mauritanie: le "business de l'immigration" à Nouadhibou, October 13, 2008. 65 AFP, Mauritanie: le "business de l'immigration" à Nouadhibou, October 13, 2008. 66 AFP, Mauritanie: le "business de l'immigration" à Nouadhibou, October 13, 2008. 67 Amnesty International, Mauritanie : “Personne ne veut de nous” Arrestations et expulsions collectives de migrants interdits d’Europe, July 1, 2008, pg. 21-22. 68 Ibid, pg. 13. 69 Ibid, pg. 28. 70 Ibid, pg. 48. 71 Ibid, pp. 32-33. 72 Ibid, pg. 20. 73 Ibid, pg. 40. 74 Ibid, pg. 34. 75 Lamazou, Zoé, Un “Guantánamo” en Mauritanie, Le Monde Diplomatique, October 2008. 76 Amnesty International, op.cit. 77 Cembrero, Ignacio, Los militares de Mauritania aflojan en su lucha contra la emigraón hacia Canarias, El País, October 8, 2008. 78 Ibid. 79 Ould Cheikh, Ahmed, Consultations entre la Mauritanie et l’Union Européenne: Désaccords sur toute la ligne, Le Calame, October 21, 2008.

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80 Cembreror, Ignacio, EE UU castiga a la junta militar mauritana mientra que la UE amenaza con hacerlo, El País, October 21, 2008. 81 RFI, Une chance à la junte, November 22, 2008. 82 Xinhua, Une institution arabe investit 100 millions de dollars dans l'agriculture mauritanienne, November 22, 2008. 83 AFP, Mauritanie: Le Chef de la junte affirme ne pas vouloir rester au pouvoir, November 28, 2008. 84 Oumère, Mohamed Fall, Paris-Nouakchott-Lemden: Ould Abdel AzizOuld Cheikh Abdallahi-Ould Daddah: Acteurs apparents de la solution française? Y’en a-t-il d’autres ?, La Tribune, N° 426, December 1, 2008. 85 French Foreign Ministry Press Release, December 1, 2008, via the African Press Organization, Mauritanie/Crise politique/Initiative de la France, December 2, 2008. 86 AFP, Mauritanie: Participation de tous, December 21, 2008. 87 Interview (#35) with Maung Zarni, Research Fellow, LSE, April 2010. 88 Xinhua, Mauritanie/Chine : signature d’un accord de financement, February 18, 2009. 89 Xinhua, Le Sénat mauritanien adopte un accord avec la Chine pour l'extension du Port Autonome de Nouakchott, February 19, 2009. 90 Xinhua, Chinese president says African visit produces new consensus, February 16, 2009. 91 Chen, Shirong, China seeks broader Africa role, BBC, February 12, 2009. 92 Xinhua, Six enterprises chinoises s’installent en Mauritanie, March 18, 2009. 93 AMI, Mauritanie/Libye/Investissement: Pose de la 1ère pierre de l'Hôtel "El Vateh" à Nouakchott, March 24, 2009. 94 Thus on two consecutive days some of the lead articles covered the visits of small groups of French and Spanish investors: AMI, Mauritanie / Espagne Le commissaire à la promotion des investissements reçoit une délégation du groupe espagnol IBSA, March 25, 2009; AMI, Mauritanie / France / Investissement Le commissaire à la promotion des investissement reçoit une délégation d'opérateurs privés français, March 24, 2009. 95 AMI, La Mauritanie rappelle son ambassadeur en Israel pour consultation, January 5, 2009. 96 AFP, La Mauritanie rappelle son ambassadeur en Israël, January 5, 2009. 97 Horizons, Le Chef de l’État reçoit le Vice-président de la République Islamique d’Iran, N. 4903, January 14, 2009. 98 AFP, Mauritanie: le gouvernement “veut poursuivre les responsables des troubles”, January 12, 2009. 99 PANA, Des handicapés manifestent en Mauritanie contre Israël, January 14, 2009. 100 AFP, Gaza: la Mauritanie et le Qatar suspendent leurs liens avec Israël, January 16, 2009. 101 AFP, Mauritanie: Le Chef de la junte affirme ne pas vouloir rester au pouvoir, November 28, 2008. 102 Interview (#35) with Maung Zarni, Research Fellow, LSE, April 2010.

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103 AFP, Mauritanie: les "états généraux de la démocratie" lancés sans les opposants, December 27, 2008. 104 AFP, Mauritanie: le premier parti suspend sa participation aux "états généraux", January 3, 2009. 105 RFD, Déclaration, Nouakchott, January 6, 2009. 106 PANA, Le RFD rejette les conclusions des Journées de concertation en Mauritanie, January 8, 2009. 107 Ould Cheikh, Ahmed, Tapis rouges, Le Calame, January 7, 2009. 108 AFP, Mauritanie: le premier parti suspend sa participation aux "états généraux”, January 4, 2009. 109 Xinhua, Mauritanie : les Etats généraux préconisent des modifications de la Constitution, January 7, 2009. 110 Boisbouvier, Christophe, Jean Ping, Jeune Afrique, January 22, 2009. 111 Xinhua, UA : Mauritanie et Guinée mises à l'écart du sommet, January 31, 2009. 112 AFP, Mauritanie: réunion en vue d'éventuelles sanctions repoussée au 20 février, January 31, 2009. 113 Reuters, Gaddafi pushes for union after election to head AU, February 2, 2009. 114 AFP, Mauritanie: l'Union affricaine décide de sanctions contre les membres de la junte, February 6, 2009. 115 PANA, Le front anti-putsch proteste contre l’interdiction d'un meeting à Nouakchott, February 10, 2009. 116 AMI, Mauritanie/UA: Le parti HATEM: "nous avons reçu avec un grand étonnement la décision du Conseil de paix et de sécurité de l'UA", February 7, 2009. 117 Sidya, Cheikh, Crise politique : Un jeudi mouvementé, Biladi, February 8, 2009. 118 Fall, Abdoul, CPS de l’UA : Le couperet est tombé !, Le Rénovateur Quotidien, February 8, 2009. 119 Xinhua, Mauritanie : le général Aziz minimise les effets des sanctions de l'UA, February 11, 2009.  120 APA, Mauritanie – Politique: Le Haut conseil en Mauritanie déclare que sa main demeure tendue aux partenaires, February 8, 2009. 121 RFI, Six mois après le coup d'Etat, February 6, 2009. 122 Sidya, Cheikh, Crise politique : Un jeudi mouvementé, Biladi, February 8, 2009. 123 AFP, Mauritanie: élection présidentielle le 6 juin, selon la junte, January 23, 2009. 124 Xinhua, Mauritanie : création d'une CENI pour superviser l'élection présidentielle, January 30, 2009. 125 Xinhua, La Mauritanie organisera un référendum constitutionnel le 20 juin, February 9, 2009. 126 PANA, Le RFD contre toute modification de la constitution en Mauritanie, February 9, 2009. 127 As developed by Ümit Cizre Sakallioğlu in Sakallioğlu, Ümit Cizre, The Anatomy of the Turkish Military’s Political Autonomy, Comparative Politics, Vol. 29, No. 2, January 1997, pp. 151-166.

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128 AFP, Mauritanie: "le putsch ne réussira jamais", selon un leader antiputsch, February 19, 2009. 129 Xinhua, Mauritanie : Meeting populaire de l'opposition au putsch à Nouakchott, February 20, 2009. 130 PANA, Le RFD appelle au dialogue national en Mauritanie, February 4, 2009. 131 AFP, Mauritanie: des anti-putsch dispersés devant l’Assemblée, May 11, 2009. 132 Ould Omère, Mohamed Fall, En attendant le 6/6, qu’est-ce qui peut arriver?, La Tribune, May 13, 2009. 133 Ba, Abdoulaye Ciré, Médiation sénégalaise : Arrière-plan et enjeux, Biladi, May 19, 2009. 134 U.S. State Department Bureau of Democracy, Human Rights, and Labor, 2008 Human Rights Report: Mauritania, February 25, 2009; http:// www.state.gov/g/drl/rls/hrrpt/2008/af/119013.htm, retrieved March 22, 2009.

10 The Vanishing Mediators

On a warm summer’s day in late June, two young men in a dusty black Toyota sedan pulled up next to Christopher Leggett, an American schoolteacher. A deeply religious man, Leggett felt the calling to serve the underprivileged, and in Ksar, a working-class Nouakchott neighborhood, he had found ample opportunities to fulfill that aspiration. Whether he came to the entirely Muslim nation with intentions to proselytize his form of Protestantism, either through clandestine preaching to his charges or indirectly through the example of his personal conduct, would become the subject of contention. Undisputed, however, was the benefit of his classes in English and computer science, two fields that offered his young students a unique opportunity at personal advancement. Siding up to him, the pair tried to force Leggett into their vehicle. They had miscalculated spectacularly. Their quarry defended himself tenaciously, knocking one flat onto the dusty dirt sidewalk, while holding the other at bay in the melee. A crowd gathered. Panicking, the earthbound assailant drew a semiautomatic handgun and shot the American three times through the face and head. Wielding a pistol to force their passage through the throng, the killers fled, leaving their victim sprawled on his back in the blazing morning sun. That very day Al Qaida claimed responsibility in an audio message broadcast on Al Jazeera, declaring that it had killed “the infidel American Christopher Leggett for his Christianizing activities.”1 A month later, the two terrorists found themselves cornered. In the very neighborhood where they had shot their target to death, police now swarmed around their safe-house and demanded their surrender. Their earthly escape now thwarted, the assassins nonetheless held the means to escape justice and perhaps take a significant number of their pursuers with them. Threatening to detonate a suicide bomber’s vest packed with explosives, one of the radicals held off police. Intense negotiations followed as the security forces tried to convince the fanatic not to set off

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the charge in the densely packed Ksar quarter. With its homemade but lethal rebar iron shrapnel and high explosive, the vest possessed a lethal radius of over six hundred feet.2 The terrorist might not have been convinced. But he hesitated. Police “neutralized” him, in their terms, shooting him in both the arms and the upper leg.3 The previous night, on the eve of the Mauritanian weekend, police massed in the North-East Nouakchott neighborhood of Teyaret. Didi Ould Bezeid had lived for several years in the precinct, an unnavigable maze of innumerable alleyways between clusters of shacks impenetrable to all but the quarter’s denizens. When police entered Ould Bezeid’s modest abode, they realized they had come moments too late. The Islamist had fled to the safety of a relative’s home. Unarmed, and sensing his arrest was but a question of time, the suspect surrendered twenty-four hours later.4 Such was the tale recounted in a dramatic press conference the next day. Holding aloft a pistol’s magazine with three missing rounds – those used to kill Christopher Leggett, in his words – Mohamed Lemine Ould Ahmed, Director of the Sûreté de l'État, the state security service, confidently proclaimed that all of Leggett’s murderers had been arrested. Also on display was a suicide bomber’s explosive belt. Part of a fourman cell, according to authorities, they had come from AQIM’s lairs in northern Mali.5 How the two scrawny youths thought they might force the brawny forty-eight-year old father of four into a car with muscle and bravado alone remained a mystery, in itself suggesting a surprising degree of amateurishness. The sparse means, poor planning, and insufficient manpower behind the incompetent execution of the attack lent credit to the government’s contention that the killing was the work of a single, small cell. Yet the very ability of a four-man cell to infiltrate the capital, conduct surveillance on a target, and plan and execute an attack in itself elicited fear. Such operational autonomy, or mission-type tactics, implied that the domestic intelligence services could not neutralize these cells by isolating them from their logistics or their command and control in the vast expanses of the Sahara desert. Other cells might just have easily penetrated the capital, and such a small, cohesive unit could not easily be infiltrated. Further, the attempt to kidnap Leggett suggested the intent to transport their captive to accomplices, while AQIM’s claim of responsibility on the day of the attack hinted at its ability to coordinate with isolated cells. Equally worrisome was what the growth of these terrorist groups signaled about Mauritania’s society and future. No longer could Nouakchott blame the attacks on Algerian Salafists. The terrorist

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menace now showed itself to be largely homegrown, the bitter fruit of bad governance. A radical ideology now mobilized discontent, threatening to enthrall segments of the nation’s youth and induce them to respond to their hopelessness through nihilistic violence. The threat of terrorism thus provided the backdrop for Mauritania’s unfolding crisis, hinting what Mauritania’s outlook might become if systemic iniquities were not quickly redressed. All the ingredients existed for Mauritania’s degeneration into a Somali-like state of anarchy, in one civil society leader’s words.6 A seething underclass surrounded Nouakchott, dwelling in peripheral shantytowns and seeking aid. Jihadists profited from this situation by promising a better world, the former Marxist underground leader added.7 As an advisor to one major party warned, “if there are no reforms in a few years everything will blow up in uncontrollable conditions for everybody.”8 In the absence of reforms, another observer elaborated, the result would be explosive in a fragile society that had lost its safety valves and respected potential mediators. West African drug smuggling rings seeking to carve out territory in a failing state where they could operate freely, a generation of ill-educated young people disconnected from society, and the availability of small arms all heightened the threat of a conflagration that might implicate Moor communities beyond Mauritania’s borders.9 Caravan Diplomacy

As the February 20 consultations in Paris approached and both sides remained unbowed, a willing negotiator stepped into the void. The President of the AU at the time, Muammar Qadhafi sent an elevenmember Libyan delegation to Mauritania to attempt to reconcile the general and the president, shuttling between Nouakchott and Lemden. With only days to spare, the delegation also met with Ahmed Ould Daddah in his titular constitutional capacity as leader of the opposition, Messaoud Ould Boulkheir, and the FNDD’s senior leadership.10 A reinvigorated and defiant Abdallahi, emboldened by the AU’s imposition of sanctions, refused the Libyan strongman’s offer.11 That was not his prerogative, however, and though Abdallahi resisted Qadhafi’s advances, Abdel Aziz was delighted to take advantage of the overture. Representatives of the African Union, the European Union, the International Organization of la Francophonie, the Arab League, the Organization of the Islamic Conference, and the UN met in Paris on February 20th behind closed doors and endorsed Qadhafi’s mediation.12

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Qadahfi’s triumphant arrival in March stirred Nouakchott from months of torpor. Government ceased in its preparation for his visit. The Libyan supreme guide’s entourage numbered at least in the hundreds if not the two thousand widely estimated. Many from Nouakchott’s upper class vacated their expansive villas, which they rented at considerable cost to visiting Libyans. After addressing thousands of believers assembled at the central stadium for Mawlid, the informal celebration of the Prophet Mohamed’s birth, Qadhafi was to reach a concord between the Abdallahi and Abdel Aziz. Nothing in Qadhafi’s visit, however, would adhere to plan. The Libyan strongman’s mercurial nature was nowhere more evident than in his rambling Mawlid speech, broadcast live on national television. He devoted considerable time to expressing perplexing religious and political messages grounded in rather unconventional exegeses of religious texts. According to the Guide of the Libyan Revolution, Jesus Christ would have embraced Islam were he still alive when the religion was revealed to the prophet Mohamed. This was obscured by the Bible, which had been falsified and stripped of several verses. As the Koran clearly proved, Moses and his followers had been Muslims, and in due time Islam would rule upon the earth.13 More provocative was Qadhafi’s call for the restoration of the Fatimid Caliphate, which had ruled North Africa from 909 to 1171.14 Such rhetoric was unsurprising on the part of Qadhafi. Yet here he did not heed his audience and their keen knowledge of their own history. Untouched by Arab Fatimid dominance, which at its height spread from modern-day Iraq to southern Morocco, and from Sicily to Sudan, Mauritania instead proudly traced its lineage to the 11th century Berber Almoravid Empire, and was the only Arab country not to have come under the Fatimid dynasty outside of the Persian Gulf region. Qadhafi’s comportment during his state visit sabotaged the accord. He ridiculed “Western democracy,” declaring it nontransferable to Africa and Africans. The Guide then proceded to mockingly recollect his attempts to forge a stable relationship with Nouakchott, as his Mauritanian counterparts changed endlessly during a succession of coups. In his speech before assembled political leaders, he stressed Mauritania’s fragility and flatly stated “what is over is over,” urging his audience to “look forward, towards the new Mauritania that will be born after June 6,” the date Abdel Aziz was imposing for presidential elections. Furious FNDD lawmakers stormed out of the speech, concluding that Qadhafi was “taking sides in favor of the military regime’s agenda.”15

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Incessant Libyan shuttle diplomacy seemed to have secured a sevenpoint accord whereby the chief protagonists of the crisis would step down, if not aside, and the conditions for elections would emerge. Abdel Aziz would resign, the junta would be dissolved, Abdallahi would tender his resignation, and Senate speaker Ba Mamadou M’baré would preside over a national unity government. The sixth and seventh points were to be the creation of a truly Independent National Electoral Commission which would oversee presidential elections.16 The inconceivability of Abdallahi’s return to power was reaffirmed, while Abdel Aziz’s candidacy remained as likely as before. Both Ahmed Ould Daddah and his RFD party and the FNDD rejected the general’s candidacy. As one FNDD spokesman affirmed, “When the junta leader is a candidate himself, we already know the result.”17 Everything hinged on that point, and whether Abdel Aziz would be allowed to parley his position into elected office. That very day the FNDD rejected the acceptance of the coup as a “fait accompli” and “Qadhafi’s taking sides with the military junta as a basic breach of his role as mediator and a violation of the international community’s directives.”18 “The problem is over, the case is closed, because what is sought is the return to civil life,” Qadhafi declared triumphantly, forgetting the by now well-worn refrain calling for the return to constitutional order. As he boarded his aircraft to mediate yet another crisis involving the military’s role in politics in Guinea Bissau, the strongman was impervious to the opposition’s objections.19 In a single breath he had negated any further discussion by appealing to one party’s adherence to its main tenet, while voiding the very AU policy towards the junta that comprised its leverage over the coup-makers. Through his mediation Qadhafi had achieved the hitherto impossible. After having embraced the coup from the very first moments and sought to reach an agreement with the junta, Ahmed Ould Daddah of the RFD joined with FNDD leaders in a joint communiqué rejecting the Libyan leader’s mediation.20 The erratic Libyan dictator had enlivened the junta’s supporters. Yet through his inept maneuvers and inelegant declarations he had brought together implacable adversaries and forged a coalition of the country’s most credible parties against the junta. The General’s First Campaign

After months of pre-campaign visits and speeches Abdel Aziz had commenced what was a presidential campaign in all but name. Traveling to the heart of Mauritania, he employed what was already a well-

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practiced stump speech, declaring Mauritania a wealthy country, one where poverty was entirely attributable to the squandering of the country’s resources by previous administrations. The “era of injustice, lies, and iniquity was forever over” Abdel Aziz intoned in the town of Wad Naga.21 Glad-handing the local notability in small towns, wading through crowds of onlookers, inspecting detachments of camel-mounted cavalrymen at parades,22 the portly general at last seemed in his element as a politician. In only a few months, the general had mastered the rudiments of political speech-making and populist sloganeering in the country’s much-exalted but oft-ignored heartland. Never lacking for audacity, Abdel Aziz delivered his message to crowds in Aleg, close to Abdallahi’s hometown. Promising freedom of the press, Abdel Aziz struck all the correct notes. Once more he excoriated corruption and dismissed his opponents as foreign agents while expressing a message of inclusiveness and tolerance in welcoming Mauritanian refuges back from Senegal.23 That Abdel Aziz had been the second ranking officer on the CMJD, and moreover, the man behind the August 3, 2005 coup d’état, much of the transition, and Abdallahi’s candidacy, was left unmentioned. Abdel Aziz used every opportunity to win hearts and minds through all means at his disposal, calling upon the full power of the state. He outlined no policy addressing the country’s woeful educational system, but he sent the children of one of the poorer Nouakchott neighborhoods a school bus as a personal gift.24 His government announced it was to build 500 Koranic schools with its own financing, while some 800 were to be constructed with the assistance of the Islamic Development Bank. In another example of his effective campaign use of state media and wealth, Abdel Aziz issued instructions following a speech in Male that the expectations of the localities’ population be immediately met. AMI, the official news service, later announced that his instructions were “immediately carried out.”25 Mauritanians could easily follow Abdel Aziz’s campaign thanks to AMI, which issued a wire dispatch at every campaign stop. At every occasion, the presidential hopeful invoked a promised war on corruption. The adoption of corruption as the central theme of his campaign, the endless refrain attributing all the nation’s ills to “the corrupt,” came tidily framed in an argument of the great betrayal of the masses by Mauritania’s elite. The trope proved highly effective, if disconcerting for those in Mauritania’s civil society who for years had fought a system grounded in corruption only to see the general lift and repeat their message nearly verbatim. If it was so potent a message, it was because it rang true. Like all effective myths, it was erected upon

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irrefutable foundations. The collocation of luxurious villas with tents and hovels left no illusions for Nouakchott residents. Mauritanians with any exposure to the capital realized that the nation’s wealth remained there. Those who got rich quickly usually did so through their access to government resources. Anyone who participated in the economy at any level understood corruption was systemic. Another decisive element of the junta’s image makeover as representing a progressive, reformist and dynamic government lay in its claims to have reconciled Mauritanians and resolved the legacy of the 1989-1991 ethnic strife. In the second round of his campaign Abdel Aziz attended a prayer service in the southern town of Kaedi, where he condemned what he himself deemed “atrocities” inflicted during the darkest days of the nation’s history and offered compensation to 244 families. Speakers in favor of the junta at the event declared the speech a seminal event in the country’s history.26 Dissident groups like SOS Esclaves refused to accept any concessions from the junta. “Three officers responsible for extrajudicial killings in the 1990s are again in power, at the heart of the military council,” one member raged. “Indemnities don’t suffice, the executioners must be known, justice must be rendered, otherwise the door is opened to impunity,” the Mauritanian Human Rights League president opined.27 Despite its commitments, the junta displayed no willingness, however, to end the amnesty laws passed in the 1990s by the Taya regime. Disavowing Qadhafi’s efforts, the African Union moved to strengthen sanctions against the junta. The AU promised a list of junta members and supporters to be subjected to sanctions within a month.28 The EU’s positions favored compromise, however. Though the EU had suspended its aid to Mauritania, upon the conclusion of an agreement between the government and all the opposition parties Brussels offered to quickly unblock the Nouadhibou port project, among other initiatives. The “irreversible implementation” of a consensus-based solution would allow for frozen programs to be restarted, while the return to constitutional order would end all sanctions.29 In essence, Brussels’ diplomatic dexterity allowed its diplomats to reverse course as soon as they had ascertained a satisfactory compromise was reached. Despite the emphasis on a compromise solution between the different parties, nothing precluded the June 6 elections, exactly two months after their pronouncement, from satisfying the body. If the EU had engaged in months of negotiations, it was not out of indulgence but because it desired compromise and an acceptable formulation of the status quo. Mauritania’s isolation under an illegitimately elected coup-maker disserved Europe’s interests as well. It was therefore essential that Abdel

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Aziz at a minimum engage his opponents in negotiations to obtain a compromise arrangement that garnered credibility for his election. The general had to display good faith and a willingness to compromise so as to place the onus of failure on an intransigent opposition. Unilateral Elections

“I have decided to resign from my roles as president of the High State Council and as Chief of State in conformity with the law,” Abdel Aziz announced on the night of Wednesday, April 15 2009. Senate speaker Ba Mamadou M’baré filled in as acting head of state, in accordance with the constitution. Abdel Aziz’s address delivered, he left the presidential palace for a private villa to prepare for his official campaign.30 The retiring general’s message surprised no one, in light of the oft-discussed requirement that he resign from the military forty-five days before the first round of presidential elections, scheduled for June 6, and his public commitment to do so on April 8.31 Some six parties supported Abdel Aziz’s candidacy.32 One, the Union for the Republic, had been created solely for this purpose. Others, such as the Republican Party for Democracy and Renewal, an offshoot of the former ruling party, the Union for Democracy and Progress, the Union of the Mauritanian People and the Arab nationalist Hatem party, long predated Abdel Aziz’s political career. Few commanded support among the populace, but the parties, particularly those whose activism predated the general’s advent in the political arena, aimed to afford some measure of legitimacy to the campaign in casting their lot with a candidate whose victory was assured. The legitimacy these parties offered, though, was by no means the popular legitimacy of the sovereign will. Rather, it was that of a political class compromised by its unfailing support of every ruler and membership in every ruling party since Moktar Ould Daddah’s presidency. In years past, this elite’s support for the ruler of the moment was unconditional. Mauritania had changed, however, and so even the intended ruling party, the UPR, faced challenges by the Rally of the Mauritanian People (RPM.) Equally unequivocal in its support of the August 6 putsch, the RPM’s members – products of Taya’s autocratic school – demanded concessions for their support.33 Mauritania’s struggles to democratize ironically had come to influence the most unabashed autocratic apparatchiks, who now positioned themselves as stakeholders warranting special considerations for their support and engaged in a mutually-binding contract with their future ruler. The time when politicians obeyed officers obsequiously had long since vanished.

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Further evidence of a seminal change in public mentalities appeared. Campaigning against the general and traveling through his power base in Atar, Ahmed Ould Sidi Baba, a venerable political baron whose engagement in public life dated to the Moktar Ould Daddah era, found himself incapable of drawing a crowd or even energizing a select audience. Neither his attacks on Abdel Aziz as an incompetent coupmaker nor his accusations that the general and his entourage had looted $9 billion over the course of the 2005-2007 CMJD transition moved attendees at his two rallies in support of the FNDD.34 The power of the old generation of political leaders over their fiefdoms had waned. Given what one Nouakchott daily referred to as the “very modest importance of his competitors,” the presidential hopeful, despite having formally relinquished power, appeared to have little problem regaining his regal prerogatives. Though some questioned whether he would retain the backing of those supporters loyal to power in itself rather than individuals,35 Abdel Aziz’s resignation proved more symbolic than factual. Those officers who supported him retained their positions. Officers deemed untrustworthy, including one in command of one of the country’s most elite units, were arrested. With no explanation Lieutenant Colonels Mekhalla Ould Dellali and Moctar Ould Kehel were taken into custody. Ould Dellali commanded a battalion based twenty miles outside of Nouakchott, while Ould Kehel led a unit in the strategic Zouerate region,36 home to Mauritania’s mining industry and a target of Al Qaida. Protesters came to fear his riot police. Abdel Aziz’s repeated suppressions of demonstrations had by now earned the junta the ire of such organizations as Amnesty International, which protested in particular the regime’s recent repression of a sit-in demonstration against the accelerated electoral calendar in front of the UN headquarters. Several women, including former ministers and serving parliamentarians, claimed to have suffered blows from batons, belts and boots. Police had not even fired warning tear gas canisters to scatter the protesters. Beaten with police batons, Senator Malouma Mint Meidah, a renowned griot turned politician, stated she considered authorities’ repression of the demonstration “was worse than anything we knew under Taya.”37 With Abdel Aziz’s resignation from the presidency, adhesion to constitutional strictures resulted in an ambiguous landmark. Ba Mamadou M’Baré temporarily assumed duties as the acting head of state, becoming the first Afro-Mauritanian since independence to do so.38 Twenty years after the 1989 pogroms, any potent symbolism was unfortunately negated by M’Baré’s entirely figurehead status. As the

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head of a more opaque body chosen through indirect and questionable elections, the Senate Speaker could not position himself as a role model or mediator for Afro-Mauritanians suspicious of power. In stark contrast to National Assembly speaker Messaoud Ould Boulkheir, one of the opposition FNDD movement’s leaders, M’Baré’s support for the junta was unwavering, and so the Senate speaker appeared as Abdel Aziz’s caretaker rather than his temporary successor. Foreign Affairs and the Perils of Democracy Promotion

The Arab Maghreb Union firmly supported the elections and promised to send observers. Its Secretary General, Lehbib Ben Yahya, announced the body’s support for elections that would ensure a “return to the constitutional situation.”39 The international community encouraged the junta through its vacillation, gradually sliding from stringent demands for a return to constitutional order to tacit approval of Abdel Aziz’s impending victory. Nowhere was this more evident that in the position of Mauritania’s former colonizer, France. As one columnist concluded, “apparently the struggle against terrorism and Islamism, of which Abdel Aziz is the champion, was worth a few breaches of democracy” to Paris.40 President Nicolas Sarkozy’s early condemnation of the coup by April gave way towards a revisionist reinterpretation of post-coup history. “Have we often seen a coup d’état without demonstrations or protests, beyond those of France? There hasn’t been one assemblyman, one lawmaker that protested,” Sarkozy exclaimed in Niamey, Niger on March 27, only days before the EU announced sanctions41 and as protesters with the support of a swath of Mauritania’s political class braved police to demonstrate in Nouakchott’s streets. The French president continued his confabulations. “When the president was detained, I called him myself.” It took a call from a senior French diplomat to remind the president that he had never spoken with President Abdallahi, neither while he was imprisoned nor when he had been placed in internal exile in the village of Lemden. The diplomat had merely given the presidential secretariat Abdallahi’s phone number, should the French president be inclined to begin corresponding with his secluded Mauritanian counterpart. Ironically, Sarkozy had concluded his African tour in Niamey with a call for transparency as the basis for a new relationship between France and Africa.42 The enormity of this latest revision of events struck observers even outside Mauritania, who noted the abrupt change from France’s previous policy. Few clues existed as to why the shift had transpired, though

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Claude Guéant, Sarkozy’s chief of staff, had received a delegation from the junta on February 20. Little doubt existed for Boulkheir, however. The speaker of the National Assembly stated that Sarkozy had been misled by his advisors. Boulkheir unambiguously attributed the switch to la Françafrique,43 the nexus between France’s political and business elites and its client states and rulers within its former colonies, which Sarkozy had promised to dismantle during his 2007 presidential campaign. For the Spanish as well, the outcome of the struggle would affect important interests. Madrid needed a firm interlocutor in Nouakchott to cement cooperation in its efforts to stem smuggling from Mauritania’s shores to the Canary Islands. A general who promised to bring order and the rule of law fit perfectly within this mold. Memories of their tribulations under their caudillo decades before, and their subsequent democratization, weighed little compared to tangible interests. The EU in general, with its more substantial ties with Mauritania, from development aid to business interests, had more to preserve. In contrast, Washington had the luxury of principle in a country where it had few interests. Granted, AQIM terrorism elicited concern. But seven years after 9/11 a more pragmatic approach had gained favor, in contrast to instinctive support for military strongmen promising security and order. Hence the American embassy was deaf to the appeals of the junta and its supporters, which vociferously invoked terrorism in requesting Washington’s support. Abdallahi’s weakness had contributed to the spate of attacks, they claimed, which was only worsened by his legalizing an Islamist party and consulting with them. American diplomats rejected those arguments. Washington emerged as one of the only foreign capitals unequivocally opposed to the August 2008 coup.44 American diplomats took pains to provide the junta’s government the least recognition practicable. On a purely symbolic level, formalities were conducted with Abdallahi, even as he languished in exile in an insignificant village in the south. American policy was not limited to the symbolic, however. In the months following the coup, the National Democratic Institute (NDI) offered a training seminar for prodemocracy activists. A nonprofit NGO that promotes representative and accountable government, the NDI is funded in large part through US government agencies. The activists were supporters of the anti-junta coalition, the FNDD, eager to use what they learned against the government. The training seminars had gone without public notice, and might have remained so were it not for an astounding interview RFD leader Ahmed Ould Daddah gave Mamouni Ould Moctar, a journalist with the

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Agence Nouakchott d’Information news agency. Ould Daddah claimed that he had refrained from signing the compact shared by various members of the FNDD, from the Islamist Tawassoul party to the leftist UFP, because it had been presented to him by the America chargé d’affaires, who “offered him financial support in exchange for his signature.” In a confused statement he claimed he had refused to sign it, since it constituted wanton foreign interference and appeared unlawful. When the interview appeared, much to the FNDD’s astonishment and consternation, Ould Daddah inelegantly denied the report, though he must have known his interview had been recorded. Another segment of the interview claimed that French intelligence had worked to modify its leadership’s opinion in favor of the junta. Accused of prevarication, the newsman felt no other recourse but to publish the tapes.45 The RFD president was duly embarrassed. Ould Moctar went to cover a protest rally, only to be accosted and abused by RFD activists.46 Now but part of a broader alliance, Ould Daddah perhaps felt compelled to launch a hostile takeover bid on legitimate opposition to the junta, tarring the other parties with willful complicity in foreign machinations while seizing the mantle of the rightful opposition leader he had once borne resisting Taya’s regime since 1992. Whatever his reasoning, Ould Daddah’s accusations ignited a firestorm of criticism from the junta supporters, who alleged American interference in the nation’s political process. The general’s various allies united in an energetic media offensive to seize patriotism’s commanding moral heights, a campaign in which the NDI’s program yielded valuable ammunition. For a fistful of dollars, junta supporters crowed, the opposition had sold out their country.47 Heated rhetoric abounded, with one junta satellite party leader calling for the American diplomat’s expulsion. Neither the Mauritanian Ministry of Foreign Affairs, nor the government at large, commented publicly, whether to condemn the actions or minimize them.48 Yet if the NDI trained FNDD activists – and so in one academic’s words the American ambassador could be said to be a founding member of the FNDD – the government could do nothing. The pro-sovereignty and anti-Western discourse no longer mobilized Mauritanians. Change had come with structural adjustment plans and their human rights clauses. Due to conditionality one had to live by the donors’ rules. This was not necessarily a bad development: since the 1990s one could no longer torture political prisoners.49 The era of sovereigntism had come to an end.

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Senegalese Mediation

For weeks Senegalese diplomats had consulted with Mauritania’s political factions, while foreign minister Cheikh Tidiane Gadio conducted shuttle diplomacy, meeting with different partners with the AU’s blessing.50 Gadio presented his roadmap to each of the three factions, Abdel Aziz’s supporters, the RFD’s mainstream, led by Ahmed Ould Daddah and purporting to represent the bloc at once opposed to Abdallahi’s return, and the anti-junta FNDD coalition, as well as to acting president Ba and Abdallahi. Gadio’s accord called for a postponement of presidential elections, the formation of a national unity government, the naming of a consensus figure as the all-important minister of interior, as well as a concession to Abdallahi in the form of his return to the presidency.51 The opposition had demanded a delay in presidential elections for months, knowing that Abdel Aziz was assured of victory. A unity government and a neutral head of police also placated those concerned by the general’s support within the government. Abdallahi’s return would be purely symbolic and face-saving. Few wanted him back in power. When Senegalese president Abdoulaye Wade arrived to meet the main faction leaders in their residences on May 14, observers thought an accord imminent. Only hours later, though, the mediation efforts appeared to have capsized dramatically, after Abdel Aziz left his meeting with Wade emphatically declaring “there will be no delay, there will be no delay.” Though the suspense lasted until the eve of the campaign’s commencement, little doubt existed as to certain ground truths girding the election. The first was that Abdel Aziz ran for office convinced he would win and crush his three minor opponents. The other was the “ambiguous” position of some European nations, most notably France. As one French diplomat was quoted, “we have to adapt to reality on the ground,” a vision focused on the general’s ability to combat “terrorism and the increase in Islamism.” “International organizations support democratic principles, and states, their interests,” presidential candidate Hamidou Baba Kane noted: “Mauritania’s democracy is not their priority.”52 Abdoulaye Wade’s signs of support for the junta since the coup had been legion, and his credibility within the opposition was scarcely greater than that of Qadhafi. As one Mauritanian, acutely aware of his country’s weakness, lamented, “when you are this weak any foreign personality holds importance. Thus, Abdoulaye Wade, one of the worst heads of state in Africa, who is trying to make his son his successor and who gave him three ministries and the rank of Minister of State after he

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[Karim Wade] was beaten in elections, becomes a grey eminence, and even the Senegalese ambassador possesses incommensurate stature. This is but the expression of the balance of power.”53 After having consistently hewed towards Abdel Aziz in past months and been accused by the FNDD of blatant favoritism, Wade felt compelled to proclaim his neutrality in Mauritania’s internal crisis.54 His statement that political transitions were best when short also signaled that he would support only a brief delay, which would favor the general.55 As May drew to an end, faced with the failure of his second round of negotiations, Wade issued new propositions and called on the unfolding national drama’s protagonists to join him with their final answers on May 26 in Dakar.56 If the opposition acquiesced to the mediation, it was entirely because they had little choice in the matter. Trapped between an international community that desired closure at all costs and accusations of intransigence and self-interestedness on the part of the newly retired general, who lambasted them for refusing elections and “blocking democracy,”57 they sensed that their compatriots had tired of the crisis. Mauritanians hoped for an end to the conflict, the return of development aid, and most of all the eclipse of politicians in whom they had no trust and who many believed were accepting money from Taya loyalists to defeat Abdel Aziz. For his part, Abdel Aziz’s grip on the military assured him that even if he could not win the presidency, he would remain a key political contender. Though now a retired general, nothing prevented his recall to active duty. The general’s own declarations that elections would not be postponed provided undoubt-edly the most revealing commentary on who wielded actual power in Mauritania, for legally he was but a retired officer leading a political party.58 As diplomats worked feverishly to produce a settlement and induce all sides to sign an accord, Abdel Aziz and his three fellow candidates took to the campaign trail, flooding certain neighborhoods with music until the wee hours of the morning from loudspeakers in campaign tents. Abdel Aziz began his campaign twenty-four hours later than scheduled, in a trumpeted concession towards negotiators, but his energetic campaign more than compensated. He commenced his formal run for the presidency in the southern town of Kiffa. There he rallied supporters with the admixture of promises, claims of success, and attacks on perfidious opponents that Mauritanians had by then become accustomed to. His austerity measures, he claimed, had saved the equivalent of $80 million dollars, which would be reinvested in development and employment schemes. He would continue his struggle against corruption to the end. As always, he accused his opponents of conspiring with

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foreign powers to bring sanctions upon the nation and hunger to its people.59 Though it could not entirely match the unofficial presidential campaign he had begun shortly after the coup, with its massive distribution of government largesse to the poor, Abdel Aziz’s run for office was very much the continuation of his electoral operation over the past nine months. Such resemblances were not limited to stock rhetoric. The general could rely upon other acolytes to continue his populist drives, help him rally supporters and dispense largesse. Only a day after the general had begun his campaign in Kiffa, acting Prime Minister Moulaye Ould Mohamed Laghdaf distributed what the government claimed to be 2,160 tons of food aid worth a million dollars to some forty thousand indigent families.60 In a concession to objectivity, the official news service now made mention of the three other candidates’ rallies. But with his rented private jet ferrying him from town to town, the anointed candidate could afford such magnanimity. Indeed, election by an overwhelming margin might prove a Pyrrhic victory. The Last Battle

Only ten days before elections were to be held, the FNDD and the RFD each sent a delegation of five members to eleventh hour negotiations in Dakar.61 At the same time, demonstrators battled riot police in Nouakchott’s busiest neighborhoods. As tear gas canisters exploded in their midst and a fiery mist filled the air, shoppers on their daily errands scattered before the rush of protestors. Demonstrators promptly responded to police charges by throwing stones. With the aim of expanding their movement, the allied FNDD and RFD held demonstrations in the main port of Nouadhibou, some three hundred miles to the north of Nouakchott.62 So as to decapitate the protest movement, police stormed the RFD and UFP’s headquarters. These same accounts claimed at least ten arrests, including four young women. At least three of the women appeared to be FNDD leaders’ daughters.63 Two days later, the FNDD and RFD leadership marched at the front of the cortege, among them Messaoud Ould Boulkheir and Ahmed Ould Daddah. Of their many failings, commitment was not among them. Their presence certainly failed to change the police’s disposition, as riot policemen violently broke up that demonstration with the same tactics used previously.64 Protestors and policemen sometimes fought hand to hand, exchanging tear gas grenades and rocks. Rather than dispersing, however, the demonstrators separated into groups of a few hundred youths, continuing the battle for over an hour, and sending many

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participants in the melee to local hospitals and prison cells.65 A day later, not all of those arrested had been released or even accounted for. In a communiqué the FNDD accused the police of abusively arresting some protestors and abandoning them miles outside of Nouakchott. Holding Abdel Aziz personally responsible, the coalition named three protestors it claimed had suffered torture after their arrest and languished incommunicado in detention.66 The violence left its mark on all involved. Ould Daddah warned “one day, law enforcement will see their weapons torn from them and used upon them if this arbitrariness continues.”67 In an impassioned tirade, Boulkheir called for an escalation of protests so that “the protestors’ blood, sweat and tears will not have been shed in vain.”68 As they negotiated, the parties also postured to present a credible threat to force compromises from Abdel Aziz’s delegation. As the oppositions’ negotiators battled their counterparts in Dakar for an acceptable agreement, their colleagues fought in Nouakchott streets and alleys to pressure the government. The burden of this stance was borne by those parties’ youngest and most idealistic members. Meanwhile, Abdel Aziz continued his presidential campaign. In the capital, the campaign was omnipresent, as hundreds of tents, bedecked with giant photographs of the retired general arose throughout Nouakchott. Almost none represented the three other candidates, whose campaigns appeared largely forgotten. Throughout the night the tents, brightly lit, well-decorated and bedecked with campaign paraphernalia, resonated with music and recorded speeches. Yet they all seemed abandoned, as though their owners had stepped out briefly and not yet returned. The tents’ purpose lay not in converting others to their cause through persuasion, but rather as a conspicuous display of support for the general on the part of the tents’ owners, mostly businessmen and bureaucrats eager to return their positions. Resolution

Just as all seemed lost, the convergence of international and Mauritanian pressure prevailed. After six days of non-stop negotiations, the three sides reached an agreement. All sides agreed to compromises. Abdallahi was to resign as president – his legal standing as chief executive finally, if temporarily, recognized. A national unity government, wherein half the ministers, including the Prime Minister, were to be selected by Abdel Aziz and the rest evenly divided between the RFD and the FNDD, would take power and oversee presidential elections. Abdel Aziz accepted the postponement of the first round of elections itself to July

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18, with the second round delayed to August 1. The Independent National Electoral Commission or CENI would be reorganized to ensure its neutrality and its fifteen members subject to agreement among the three blocs.69 The opposition bore much blame for the delay, having bickered over the allotment of ministries for nearly a month. There was little concern over the feasibility of the elections. One newspaper editor lamented “if the time to organize the elections doesn’t exist, they’ll legitimate them afterwards.”70 As promised, authorities freed former Prime Minister Yahya Ould Ahmed Waghef from Nouakchott’s largest prison, Dar Naïm, where a crowd gave the corruption suspect a hero’s welcome upon his release.71 That Thursday the accord was formally signed in Nouakchott. The toppled president received his due recognition in exchange for his resignation. Abdoulaye Wade praised Abdallahi’s “great patriotism” in having recognized the “divide” between “power and the people,” and having “accepted to consult the people on government again.” Addressing the Mauritanian people, Wade had few qualms in his diagnostic of August 6. “You were in a situation where a military group took power, which is called a coup d’état.”72 Receiving only one mention in Wade’s thanks, Abdel Aziz attended the signing impassively. Tens of women supporting his candidacy, placed strategically throughout the audience, marred the ceremony by repeatedly calling out his name and brandishing his campaign posters.73 First and foremost, the agreement that ended ten months of conflict between the junta and opposition constituted the victory of international pressure on the part of those who desired a return to the status quo ante. Wade appeared an elder statesman, succeeding where AU president Muammar Qadhafi had pointedly failed and receiving the recognition of his predecessor, Abdou Diouf. Diouf’s retirement from the presidency of Senegal to that of the Francophonie presaged what Wade might expect should he leave office in 2012. The Senegalese press quickly inscribed the mediation within a series of successful efforts remedying conflicts from Madagascar to Guinea-Bissau.74 Only days later the European Commission cited the accord in expressing its willingness to recommence aid to Mauritania.75 Business could again proceed as usual. An Unequal Contest

Colonel Ely Ould Mohamed Vall, the transitional government president and longtime security services chief, began his presidential candidacy in a characteristically cautious fashion. The colonel knowingly positioned himself as the credible, worldly senior statesman who might reconcile

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Mauritania with the outside world and build concord within its leadership. Vall posed as an intellectual as well as a policeman keen on maintaining order and the status quo, all in stark contrast to General Abdel Aziz’s pugilistic bluster. Modesty aside, patriotic appeals and civility constituted Vall’s hallmarks. Adept at delivering lectures abroad on Mauritania’s democratic transition, Vall condemned the August 2008 coup and donned the statesman’s mantle, warning that should “the junta persist, it would drive the country into a blocked tunnel.”76 He contrasted the junta’s international isolation with his stewardship of the nation. Vall deemed the 2005-2007 transition “a stunning success that elicited the pride of all Mauritanians, just as it gave the country the esteem and consideration of the international community.” His eleventh hour warnings, however, ill disguised the former CMJD junta leader’s aversion to confrontation with Abdel Aziz. And having remained as far as possible from the battlelines between the HCE and the opposition, he exposed himself to considerable criticism from both sides.77 Indeed, in the face of a political crisis and coup that had revealed the emptiness and manipulations behind the oft-lauded democratic transition, Vall found himself attacked on grounds of corruption by Abdel Aziz, his younger cousin. Having together created Abdallahi’s candidacy only to feud over their creation, Vall and Abdel Aziz revealed irreconcilable differences in vying to succeed him. Though both hailed from the same tribe, the Ouled Bousba, and depended upon the same constituencies, the military and the notability, neither could contain the malice. The circumstances were not in Vall’s favor. In a campaign where Abdel Aziz had intently focused on corruption, Vall’s formidable personal fortune, entirely accrued while in uniform, proved more a hindrance than an asset. Vall had used two decades of networking as the security chief and his ties as a member of the Chirac Foundation to cultivate an image as a mysterious kingmaker. Yet though he’d received a who’s who of Mauritanian notability and foreign diplomats,78 his strengths were negated by a populist campaign that bypassed the traditional notability and brought common Mauritanians into the electoral process for the first time. Messaoud Ould Boulkheir, an ambitious figure well-regarded by Abdallahi’s supporters, drew attention to the risk of fragmenting the opposition vote in calling for a single candidacy on the part of the FNDD. Boulkheir conceded, however, that Abdel Aziz “was far ahead because he has been campaigning since he took power ten months ago,” with the aid of government-controlled “radio and television repeating night and day that he was the president of the poor, the anti-corruption president.”79 Moreover, the international contact group on Mauritania

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had been relatively supple and patient with him. In seeking to delay the elections further, the opposition had not been supported by the international community, Boulkheir lamented, while Abdel Aziz had reshaped government with “prefects, governors, military commanders, and police chiefs,” while continuing what the speaker castigated as “demagoguery and populism” in his campaign. His hope resided in voters’ opportunism – many who would have sided with Abdel Aziz while he was in power had no inclination to do so once the general’s victory was less certain.80 Boulkheir’s hope was to be the winning, unifying candidacy. If his hope proved futile, his analysis of Adel Aziz’s winning strategy was prescient. Never one to be discounted from the race, Ahmed Ould Daddah declared his candidacy after ensuring his designation by the RFD party. The three-time presidential hopeful, who had gathered 47.15% of the second round vote in April 2007, tilted at the windmills of the first round of elections on July 18. Ould Daddah had not weathered the previous two years well. His emphatic support for the coup followed by his denunciations of Abdel Aziz’s “mad ambition” and ad hoc alliance with the FNDD on the grounds of joining a “democratic resistance” had disoriented supporters and fractured his party.81 More than any other factor, Ould Daddah’s autocratic and inept leadership had rendered his party, once Mauritania’s premiere opposition formation, a pale shadow of itself. His chances now counted more on the failings of other candidates and sheer name recognition than on any campaigning he might muster. Even name recognition, however, seemed insufficient to carry him into the second round or secure a respectable showing. Abdel Aziz’s campaign from the first weeks of his junta strove to portray the general, rather than Moktar Ould Daddah’s half-brother, as the true successor to the founding president’s legacy of nation-building, and to associate Ahmed Ould Daddah with former Taya loyalists and Smassid tribal leaders now with the opposition. After coalescing slowly over the course of the HCE’s reign, the FNDD quietly but quickly disintegrated. One month before the election Boulkheir announced his candidacy, after the moderate Islamist Tawassoul party declared that its leader, Jemil Mansour, would run for president while remaining part of the FNDD. 82 Pundits justified the separate candidacies as a strategy to elicit as many votes as possible from voters who might reject the opposition alliance’s candidate,83 but could not conceal the overweening personal ambitions and lack of trust between the alliance’s leaders that rendered the schism virtually inevitable. The hope of a single FNDD candidacy evaporated at a stroke.

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In the last days of campaigning, Abdel Aziz’s rhetoric amplified, targeting his main opponents. Boulkheir came in for considerable criticism from the former junta leader, who accused the National Assembly speaker of malfeasance in his fiery oratory against corruption. National television included the accusations as part of its reporting. Even the national media authority HAPA condemned the invective.84 Coming only days before the election, though, the supervisory body’s admonitions underscored its impotence and the questionable character of the laws it enforced. Shortly thereafter, authorities closed “Radio For Mauritania,” a private radio station operated by a dissident group opposed to the coup, and linked to Boulkheir. Legally, the radio station was untenable. It had not received a broadcasting license, as given existing regulations no private radio station could.85 Protecting freedom of speech numbered among many advances that might have signaled the government’s willingness to forge a democracy that went beyond the periodic exercise of casting ballots. Such signs of good faith from the incumbents, together with the concept of a loyal opposition, underpin the confidence in which democracy is grounded. The general’s overwhelming advantages defeated the very purpose of the balloting, since elections that were not competitive were well-nigh meaningless. Yet Mauritanians and the international community had tired of the seemingly endless crisis. They desired elections, of any sort, to bring closure. Filling ballot boxes promised to usher in an end to a decade that had seen continuous turmoil. And so those opposed to Abdel Aziz went to the polls with a profound malaise, cognizant of the elections’ troubling context but unable to oppose them. Two days before the election, the implementation committee of the International Contact Group declared conditions ready and stated its confidence in the polling. As opposition figures complained of “signs of likely fraud on the part of Mohamed Ould Abdel Aziz,” committee president Mahamat Saleh Annadif, a former Chadian foreign minister, met with the country’s main political parties and counseled them “to keep confidence in the electoral process.” The Chadian’s assurances, and his committee’s reliance upon three hundred election observers to oversee 1.2 millions voters86 spread across a country nearly twice the size of France, did little to allay skeptics’ concerns. France’s leanings left no doubt within Nouakchott. The pro-putsch faction, active within industry and the foreign policy establishment, had long since claimed victory over the handful of technocrats opposed to the coup. Nicolas Sarkozy himself crowned realpolitik’s triumph in the Mauritanian dossier in his memorable statement in late March 2009 that the August 2008 coup had faced no opposition within the country.

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Persistent reports linked Abdel Aziz’s supporters, such as tycoon Mohamed Ould Bouamatou, with influential French dealmakers, such as Robert Bourgi and Patrick Balkany, who suddenly appeared in the desert nation.87 Transparent Elections

Ely Ould Mohamed Vall’s support vanished well before Election Day.88 Once considered a potent political actor capable of rallying the old guard of the Mauritanian establishment, from the tribal notability to major elements within the bureaucracy, the colonel’s Taya-era ties failed him. His legacy particularly damaged his standing within the AfroMauritanian community. Vall could not dissociate himself from Taya, given how he had served as the dictator’s police chief for twenty years, including during the 1989 to 1991 repression.89 “You cannot be director of the national police for twenty years and chief of intelligence, and then plead ignorance.”90 Furthermore, Vall’s leadership of the transition earned a reputation for corruption in some quarters. “When Sidioca came to power, the coffers were empty.”91 In contrast, Abdel Aziz won a following among some Afro-Mauritanians, who had seen little from Vall since the Taya era. The compensation payments that the junta leader had arranged could not replace what families had lost, but were welcomed material assistance. For this reason one commentator interviewed argued that the two Afro-Mauritanian candidates, Ibrahima Sarr and Hamidou Baba Kane, had both participated in the abortive June 6 elections so as to lend credibility to Abdel Aziz’s victory.92 The damage to Vall’s reputation from his showing in the election can scarcely be overstated. The intelligence chief previously had cultivated a persona shrouded with secrecy. In addition to his tenure as head of the CMJD, his business empire, ties to influential figures beyond Mauritania’s borders, and articulateness contributed to his aura as an urbane, cosmopolitan figure, a natural statesman far more suitable than his impetuous and taciturn first cousin. Out of power, Vall had sought to craft his image by studying English abroad and intensive reading, aiming to present himself as an intellectual whom fate had transformed into Mauritania’s providential soldier. His efforts did not produce the intended effects. Within his constituency of ruling party loyalists, the last coup’s president could not compete with the current sultan. And by engaging in a contest he could only lose, and furthermore, one that measured the full weight of his powers, he single-handedly sabotaged his career. As much as any other figure, he found himself dependant upon the ruling sultan. He had simply too much to lose.

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Among the opposition electorate, Ahmed Ould Daddah, the respected dissident of yesteryear and victim of two flawed elections, and Messaoud Ould Boulkheir, the coup’s uncompromising Haratine opponent, vied fiercely. Their collaboration in opposition to the 2008 coup had been anything but consistent. In a country wracked by crisis for over a year, their campaigning did not deprive Abdel Aziz of his following with the country’s lower classes. The very populist campaigning that provoked trepidation amongst some elites served Abdel Aziz well within Nouakchott, long a bastion of the opposition, and his support showed in his meetings in the capital’s poorer neighbor-hoods.93 A cacophony of car horns marked Abdel Aziz’s dramatic victory on Sunday, July 19. The news that the coup leader had won in the first round, with 52.47% of the vote, astonished Mauritania’s intelligentsia. Boulkheir trailed the general with only 16.29%, while Ould Daddah received a mere 13.66%. Stunned, the opposition parties momentarily fell silent, before denouncing what Ould Daddah claimed to be a masquerade and Boulkheir dubbed “an electoral coup d’état.” Vall wasted no time in alleging fraud only hours after polling had begun. The colonel claimed to have learned of “vast fraud operations, in Nouakchott as well as the interior,” involving everything from buying voters’ identification papers to the wholesale purchase of entire villages’ votes.94 Vall’s ire would be understandable regardless of doubts over fraudulent voting, given that the former head of state had placed sixth, behind Ibrahim Sarr and the Islamist first-time candidate Jemil Mansour. Yet African Union and Francophonie observers reported no irregularities. The opposition’s hopes fell to an appeal to the constitutional court, the country’s supreme judicial body.95 In a uniquely Mauritanian moment, Mansour blamed veiled women in part for the alleged voter fraud. In concealing their faces, he claimed, many of the apparently pious women used others’ identification to vote repeatedly. Inexplicably, he noted, indelible ink was not used during the election, while many voters arrived at polls only to learn they had been struck from the voting registers.96 Full veils obscuring the face were exceedingly rare in Mauritania, where the loose-fitting, brilliantlycolored and occasionally even translucent melahfa was the norm among Moor women. That Mansour was suspicious of this newfound election day piety among certain women, and that the country’s main Islamist leader would denounce full veils, illustrated how, despite the rise of violent Islamist extremism, Mauritanians still practiced their faith with little regard for fundamentalists.

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Indeed, the election confirmed the weakness of sectarian candidates with ideological or identity-driven politics. The first Islamist to run for president, Mansour received only 4.76% of the vote. Even had Abdel Aziz not deprived Mauritanian Islamism’s most polished representative of his most resonant issue through his tough stance during the conflict in Gaza and his expulsion of the Israeli embassy, little indication arose that the Islamist Tawassoul party president would have received a significantly higher percentage of the vote. Campaigning on the slogan “Yes we Kane!” former RFD vice president Hamidou Baba Kane attempted to channel palpable “Obamamania” among Afro-Mauritanians. He joined elder opposition leader Sarr in focusing upon that electorate, canvassing the Senegal River Valley, and even the Afro-Mauritanian diasporas in Europe and America, rather than the heavily Moor regions in Mauritania. For their efforts they received 1.49% and 4.59% of the vote, respectively. Saleh Ould Hannena’s score of 1.31% of the vote sounded the death knell of Arab nationalists as political force. Condemnation came from more disinterested quarters. The editor of Nouakchott’s most respected newspaper compared the election to that in Iran only a month before. Elections were the opiate of the Mauritanian people, editorialist Ahmed Ould Cheikh alleged, through which Mauritanians blinded themselves to history that repeated itself as endless farce. The latest polling proved no exception in his estimation. Inscribing it within a continuity of stolen presidential elections since the pseudo-democratization of 1992, Cheikh judged “the people’s will confiscated by an oligarchy that gave democracy in words alone.” The editor rhetorically demanded how a candidate losing support in the last weeks miraculously produced a stunning victory in what appeared a very close election. How could Abdel Aziz have won the vote in districts where he was expected to lose, including his opponents’ strongholds, where some challengers had not received a single vote? Likewise, Abdel Aziz’s receiving the same percentage of the vote in tens of different boroughs throughout the country provoked equal disbelief. Culpability for what he deemed a travesty lay as well with the opposition, which had accepted a place in a national unity government and elections within three weeks, “knowing full well it was rigged.” Opposition spokesmen alleged bought votes, multiple voting, registered voters’ absence from polling lists, and stuffed ballot boxes with more votes than registered voters in the locality. Yet much as they might point to subversion of the unity government, such as the Prime Minister’s refusal to appoint opposition members to the joint electoral commission, rendering it inoperative, their protests lacked credibility abroad.97

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The president of the CENI, Sid’Ahmed Ould Deye, himself confessed that he doubted the elections’ “reliability” and resigned. Ultimately the CENI, whose membership was evenly split between opposition and pro-junta factions, endorsed the elections. Yet though he had not noted any irregularities, Ould Deye wrote in a communiqué that “the complaints [he] received as well as the content of the appeals addressed to the constitutional court sowed doubt” in his mind. As a matter of “conscience” he felt no recourse but to resign.98 Any hopes Abdel Aziz’s opponents placed in the constitutional court were dashed, however, when that court validated Abdel Aziz’s victory less than a week after the elections. The general’s campaign had already begun calling upon the opposition to recognize his victory. In addition to his absolute majority of votes in the presidential elections, the newly-minted politician claimed the loyalty of sixty-one of the national assembly’s ninety-five legislators.99 His formal resorts exhausted, Ahmed Ould Daddah called upon “the people to reject this new (electoral) coup d’état” and demanded a vote recount as well as chemical analyses of the ballots.100 What Mauritanians Want

What Cheikh did not mention was the fragile grounding of commentators’ prognostics. The chattering classes held few means with which to gauge public sentiment in a country lacking in reputable opinion polls. By definition educated, modernist and more affluent, many in Mauritania’s chattering classes harbored unprepossessing preconceptions of their countrymen. Professionally conducted surveys were exceedingly rare, with most journalists relying upon informal, unscientific polls on websites open only to the elite. Anecdotal evidence alone sufficed for many analysts, magnifying the dichotomy between the ruling classes and the rest of Mauritanians and accentuating the disconnect. With no empirical evidence to contradict their presumptions, even experienced analysts fell back on familiar tropes. Even had voterigging occurred, a plurality of Mauritanians incontrovertibly supported Abdel Aziz. An opinion survey circulating within the opposition before the elections should have forewarned Abdel Aziz’s adversaries of sweeping changes in public opinion, if those commonplace notions had ever borne any resemblance to reality. The image of the Mauritanian as fundamentally conservative and loyal first and foremost to clan, tribe, and traditional values disintegrated when subjected to rigorous polling. When questioned as to whom they counted upon to ensure their personal

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security, the police were cited first by a quarter of respondents, while “family, tribe and friends” ranked last. Should a member of their tribe be guilty of a criminal offence, fewer than one in twenty questioned answered that they would not inform the authorities. Overall, few divergences appeared on domestic issues between the country’s ethnolinguistic groups. Tribalism, at least according to the survey, was a dying value. Unsurprisingly, Mauritanians’ worries were most prosaic but pressing. Public health, poverty, drugs, hunger, education and unemployment comprised the six most commonly cited concerns, respectively. Considerable enmity existed towards those in power who abused their positions. Indeed, in ranking crimes by gravity, embezzlement came second, behind murder, and well before theft, rape, or bearing false witness. Most encouragingly, only 12% judged an Islamic state to be incompatible with democracy.101 Given that Islam constituted the sole common set of values underpinning Mauritanians, and radical Islamism the lone ideology opposing liberal democracy in the aftermath of others’ demise, from Arab and Black African nationalism to Marxist-Leninism, the ideological battle for democracy in Mauritania was almost won. Even if respondents furnished those answers they believed surveyors desired, this would still signify that in the most backward provinces and the poorest ghettoes, those polled had internalized these values, if only to the extent that they knew they composed the prevalent creed. In an interconnected era, Mauritanians of all backgrounds shared similar concerns centered on good governance, and held no objection in principle to democracy. The vote for Abdel Aziz among working-class Mauritanians was one of hope for change that scarcely concealed deep despair. For this very reason, others feared the populist general: “Abdel Aziz is a kind of Chavez or Qadhafi without [much] oil.”102 Most supported Abdel Aziz in the belief that alone among the candidates “he will feed the poor, who are the only ones that vote.”103 Desperate for change, one voter stated that spontaneous support in his neighborhood had erupted and that the population as a whole was behind Abdel Aziz 70%. “If Abdel Aziz doesn’t bring change, there will be chaos. Mauritania will cease to exist, and become like Somalia.”104 The Longest Concession

After ten days the international community accepted the polling’s verdict without appealing for greater transparency. The staunchest opponent of the coup, Washington flatly stated “we look forward to

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working with President-elect Aziz and his government on multiple challenges facing the country.”105 There seemed little choice, as tangible, principled grounds on which to oppose the election had not arisen. “Despite a certain number of irregularities, the Constitutional Council and other international observers have determined that the presidential elections of July 18 reflect the general will of the Mauritanian people.”106 The concession to Abdel Aziz’s election had taken nearly a year. France came to its conclusions far more quickly. Less than three days after the election, the French foreign ministry declared that no major anomalies had taken place, applauding that elections “essential to opening a path to the end to the crisis in Mauritania” had taken place peaceably.107 To underscore its policy, Paris sent its secretary of state for aid, Alain Joyandet, to Abdel Aziz’s inauguration on August 5. Boulkheir and Ould Daddah persisted, demanding a commission of inquiry into the elections in a joint press conference. They still deemed the elections “neither free, nor democratic, nor transparent due to multiple fraudulent maneuvers.”108 Consequently, the pair insisted upon a recount, an examination of voter lists and a technical analysis of the ballots. Their behest came carefully phrased as a solution to the political crisis and a challenge to the president-elect, lest he take office as a “’contested president’ assuming grave responsibilities for the future of the country and democracy.”109 If the constitutional council had rejected their appeal for insufficient evidence, the two most prominent opposition leaders intended to place the burden of proof entirely on Abdel Aziz’s shoulders. Vall, expected to form the third leg of the budding opposition alliance that might form a serious counter-weight to Abdel Aziz, was nowhere to be found. After losing much stature through his rash candidacy, Vall’s keen sense of self-interest made him hesitant to ally with the two leaders. “I think that after this fraudulent election,” Vall opined, “the country is thrust into a political crisis whose solution resides in the search for national consensus.”110 Expressing himself in a personal press conference, circumstances he deemed more conducive to his postelection role as an opposition leader, Vall judged that the Dakar accords “had only been applied ten percent” and the institutions entrusted with the election’s integrity “hadn’t played their role.”111 “Rather than resolving the problem of the August 6 coup, this election plunged the country into a dangerous crisis in the sense that it legitimated, legalized a coup d’état and placed the country in the circumstances of a continuous coup,” the 2005 putsch leader declared. Abdel Aziz’s chief

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spokesman dismissed him, attributing the statements to the Vall’s overweening ambition.112 Vall went into eclipse. Boulkheir and Ould Daddah had gone so far that renouncing their challenges to the election’s legitimacy bore deep costs. For Ould Daddah, defeat took on an altogether personal aspect. Thrice he had come to the threshold of victory, only to be unjustly defeated in unfair elections. Time and again, the incumbents had cloaked their reappointment in the garb of the voters’ choice using democratic façades. Once a promising young technocrat and minister in his legendary half-brother’s cabinet, now a perennial opposition candidate in his late sixties, Ould Daddah had every reason to continue his struggle. As Taya once deprived him of his rightful place, now the dictator’s chief bodyguard had usurped power in his estimation. Having surpassed Ould Daddah in the polls, garnering the stature of leader of the opposition, Boulkeir too aimed to press home his offensive on Abdel Aziz’s chief weakness: his altogether perplexing election. But Boulkheir and Ould Daddah realized themselves further isolated when even Conscience and Resistance, the most radical dissident group on the left, retreated. The circle expressed its misgivings over the elections but allowed Abdel Aziz a six-month trial period.113 The fiery rhetoric and ardently rejectionist stance expected of the semi-clandestine group, often derided as wayward patrician sons playing revolutionaries, vanished. And with it, the anti-Abdel Aziz opposition’s left flank. Days went by, and they finally accepted defeat. Before closing his inauguration ceremony, Abdel Aziz stopped to review a detachment from the Presidential Guard Battalion, BASEP, to symbolize his resumption of power as commander in chief. Obstinate and impulsive, a praetorian guards intimately involved in every coup in two decades only to rebrand himself in recent months as “the president of the poor,”114 Abdel Aziz polarized Mauritanians. Had he been born into an Afro-Mauritanian family in Louga, Senegal before moving north to Mauritania, rather than a Bidan merchant family, Abdel Aziz might have found himself exiled and stripped of his citizenship in the wake of the 1989 violence. Instead, the Army allowed an unexceptional man a unique chance at an exceptional destiny. Abdel Aziz was undoubtedly a product of his era. Yet much as they might revile him, his critics could not deny his audacity and will. As he saluted the troops, the gesture’s true significance could not be more apparent. He owed them everything.

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1

BBC, African al Qaida ‘killed’ US man, June 25, 2009. APA, Les meurtriers de l’Américain Christopher Leggett arrêtés par la police à Nouakchott, July 18, 2009. 3 Ould Sadi, Hamedine, Mauritanie: arrestation de deux assassins présumés d'un Américain, liés à Al Qaïda, AFP, July 18, 2009. 4 RFI, Un islamiste présumé arrêté à Nouakchott, July 25, 2009. 5 Ould Sadi, Hamedine, op.cit. 6 Interview (#23) with Abdelkader Ould Hamad, June 2009. 7 Ibid. 8 Interview (#24) with Aboulaye Ciré Ba, June 2009. 9 Interview (#22) with Mohamed Fall Ould Oumère, June 2009. 10 Xinhua, Qadhafi prêt à entreprendre une médiation dans la crise en Mauritanie, February 16, 2009. 11 Fall, Abdoul, Impasse politique inextricable : Où va-t-on ? Notre sort se décidera-t-il ailleurs ?, Le Quotidien de Nouakchott, February 16, 2009. 12 International Contact Group on the Situation in Mauritania, International Contact Group Communiqué, Paris, February 20, 2008. 13 PANA, « L'islam régnera sur la planète, comme Dieu l'a promis », soutient Qadhafi, March 11, 2009. 14 PANA, Le guide libyen appelle à la re-fondation de l'Etat fatimide, March 11, 2009. 15 AFP, Mauritanie: Qadhafi appelle à "regarder devant" et tourner la page du passé, March 12, 2009. 16 Xinhua, Mauritanie : concertations autour d’un plan libyen de sortie de crise, March 11, 2009. 17 AFP, Crise mauritanienne: le médiateur libyen se déclare "optimiste", March 11, 2009. 18 The Communication Commission, FNDD, Communiqué de Presse, FNDD, March 11, 2009. 19 AFP, Mauritanie: le dossier des sanctions est "clos", affirme Qadhafi, March 12, 2009. 20 AFP, Mauritanie: nouvelle alliance contre la médiation libyenne, March 15, 2009. 21 AMI, Le Chef de l'Etat: l'ère de l'injustice, du mensonge et de l'inéquité est à jamais révolue, March 22, 2009. 22 AMI, Le Chef de l’État commune d’Aghchorguitt, March 22, 2009. 23 Xinhua, Mauritanie : le chef de la junte critique les anciens régimes, March 21, 2009. 24 AMI, Un bus pour le transport des élèves du Warf, don du Chef de l'État, March 23, 2009. 25 AMI, En exécution des instructions du Chef de l'Etat, des réponses immédiates aux attentes des populations de Male ont été données, March 21, 2009. 26 AMI, Le chef de l'Etat préside un meeting populaire et assiste à une prière à la mémoire des disparus des évènements de 90 et 91, March 25, 2009. 27 IRIN, Mauritanie: Merci pour l’indemnisation, mais où est la justice ?, April 2, 2009. 28 AFP, Mauritanie: L’Union africaine durcit les sanctions contre la junte, March 24, 2009. 2

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2009.

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RFI, L’Union européenne gèle sa coopération avec Nouakchott, April 6,

30 AFP, Mauritanie: démission du chef de la junte, candidat à la présidentielle, April 15, 2009. 31 AFP, Mauritanie: le chef de la junte annonce sa démission avant le 22 avril, April 8, 2009. 32 PANA, Six partis mauritaniens soutiennent la campagne du général Aziz, May 1, 2009. 33 Ould Cheikh, Ahmed, L’ Éditorial du Calame : Rassemblons-nous, le pays est en danger, May 5, 2009. 34 Gaye, Ahmed, Ahmed Ould Sidi Baba à Atar : Désaveu ou perte de popularité?, Biladi, May 13, 2009. 35 AFP, Mauritanie: démission du chef de la junte, candidat à la présidentielle, April 15, 2009. 36 PANA, Arrestation de plusieurs officiers supérieurs en Mauritanie, April 28, 2009. 37 APA, La police réprime des femmes opposées au putsch en Mauritanie, April 19, 2009. 38 Meunier, Marianne, Président symbolique, Jeune Afrique, May 12, 2009. 39 News Press, TV5, Mauritanie : L’Union du Magrheb Arabe souhaite observer les élections présidentielles, April 17, 2009. 40 Ben Yamed, Marwane, Vent de sable, Jeune Afrique, May 25, 2009. 41 Mathiot, Cédric, Mauritanie : Sarkozy réécrit le putsch, Libération, April 8, 2009. 42 Mathiot, Cédric, Le gros bobard diplomatique de Sarkozy, Libération, April 11, 2009. 43 Mathiot, Cédric, Mauritanie : Sarkozy réécrit le putsch, Libération, April 8, 2009. 44 Schmidle, Nicholas, The Saharan Conundrum, The New York Times, February 15, 2009. 45 Barrada, Mohamed Fouad, Les Echos de La Tribune : Les révélations d’Ahmed Daddah, La Tribune, N. 447, May 4, 2009. 46 RSF, Le journaliste Mohamed Ould Zeine échappe à une tentative de meurtre, May 15, 2009. 47 Ould Haiba, Mohamed Salem, L’Éditorial du Véridique, Le Véridique, May 3, 2009. 48 Diagana, Khalilou, L’affaire du chargé d’affaires, Le Quotidien de Nouakchott, May 4, 2009. 49 Interview (#21) with Prof. Seyyid Ould Bah, June 2009. 50 RFI, Présidentielle : la médiation sénégalaise en faveur d'un report du scrutin, May 11, 2009. 51 Provenzano, Lauranne, Dakar essaie d’obtenir le report de la présidentielle, Jeune Afrique, May 12, 2009. 52 Châtelot, Christophe, L'opposition mauritanienne mobilisée contre l'élection présidentielle, May 20, 2009. 53 Interview (#26) with Dr. Mohamed-Mahmoud El Hacen, June 2009. 54 AFP, Mauritanie: le président sénégalais dit n'être "pour aucun des partis", May 3, 2009.

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55 Ba, Abdoulaye Ciré, Médiation sénégalaise : Arrière-plan et enjeux, Biladi, May 19, 2009. 56 RFI, Le président sénégalais fait de nouvelles propositions, May 25, 2009. 57 AFP, Mauritanie: l'opposition "bloque la démocratie", selon le général Aziz, May 22, 2009. 58 Ould Cheikh, Ahmed, L’ Édito du Calame : Porte condamnée, Le Calame, N. 689, May 27, 2009. 59 AMI, Le candidat Mohamed Ould Abdel Aziz lance sa campagne à partir de Kiffa, May 22, 2009. 60 AMI, Le Premier ministre lance les opérations de distribution gratuite de 2160 tonnes de produits alimentaires au profit de 40 mille familles de la capitale, May 23, 2009. 61 PANA, Le front anti-putsch en Mauritanie prendra part aux négociations de Dakar, May 26, 2009. 62 APA, La police disperse un sit-in anti-putsch, devant le siège de l'UFP à Nouadhibou, May 26, 2009. 63 Ould Mohamed Lemine, Mohamed, Manifestations des jeunes de l’opposition : Échauffourées musclées entre policiers et contestataires FNDD et RFD, Le Rénovateur Quotidien, May 26, 2009. 64 APA, Vive tension entre pouvoir et forces anti-putsch à Nouakchott, May 29, 2009. 65 AFP, Mauritanie: manifestations de l'opposition violemment réprimées, May 29, 2009. 66 Commission de Communication du FNDD, Communiqué de presse, May 29, 2009. 67 AFP, Mauritanie: manifestations de l'opposition violemment réprimées, May 29, 2009. 68 Ibid. 69 Accord Cadre de Dakar entre les Trois Grands Pôles Politiques Mauritaniens, June 2, 2009. 70 Interview (#22) with Mohamed Fall Ould Oumère, June 2009. 71 AFP, Mauritanie: libération du Premier ministre déchu, détenu depuis 6 mois, June 4, 2009. 72 Boutreux, Laurence, Mauritanie: un accord de sortie de crise signé 10 mois après le putsch, June 5, 2009. 73 Ibid. 74 Diakhate, Mbaye Sarr, and Ndiaye, Oumar, Médiations sénégalaises: Le success story d’une diplomatie de la paix, Le Soleil, June 5, 2009. 75 AFP, La Commission européenne «prête» à reprendre sa coopération avec la Mauritanie, June 5, 2009. 76 AFP, Mauritanie: le colonel Ould Vall candidat à la présidentielle, June 5, 2009. 77 Diagana, Khalilou, Ely ould Mohamed Vall : Candidat après un long silence, Le Quotidien de Nouakchott, June 7, 2009. 78 Châtelot, Christophe, En Mauritanie, deux militaires, proches parents, s'affrontent pour la présidence, Le Monde, June 6, 2009. 79 AFP, Mauritanie: le Front anti-putsch "peut l'emporter s'il reste uni", June 5, 2009.

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80 AFP, Mauritanie: le Front anti-putsch "peut l'emporter s'il reste uni", June 5, 2009. 81 AFP, Mauritanie: Ould Daddah officiellement candidat à la présidence, June 9, 2009. 82 AFP, Mauritanie/présidentielle: le président de l'Assemblée nationale candidat, June 15, 2009. 83 RFI, FNDD: rupture ou manœuvre politique ?, June 15, 2009. 84 AFP, Mauritanie/présidentielle: la Haute Autorité de la Presse dénonce des dérapages, July 16, 2009. 85 AFP, Mauritanie: fermeture d'une radio privée proche de l'opposition, July 16, 2009. 86 AFP, Mauritanie: toutes les conditions réunies pour la présidentielle, assure un comité, July 16, 2009. 87 Hugeux, Vincent, Le jeu trouble de Paris en Mauritanie, L’Expresse, July 17, 2009. 88 Rivière, Manon, Le putschiste de Nouakchott s’apprête à être élu président, Libération, July 17, 2009. 89 Interview (#29) with Moussa Samba N’Diaye, June 2009. 90 Interview (#28) with Adama Ba, June 2009. 91 Ibid. 92 Interview (#29) with Moussa Samba N’Diaye, June 2009. 93 Rivière, Manon, op.cit. 94 Châtelot, Christophe, En Mauritanie, le putschiste de 2008 gagne l'élection, Le Monde, July 20, 2009. 95 Aggiouri, Timour, L’opposition mauritanienne crie à la fraude, Libération, July 21, 2009. 96 APA, Le candidat islamiste considère les femmes voilées comme source de fraude en Mauritanie, July 18, 2009. 97 Ould Cheikh, Ahmed, À votre santé, Iraniens, Le Calame, N. 699, July 21, 2009. 98 AFP, Le président de la commission électorale "doute" de la "fiabilité" du scrutin, July 26, 2009. 99 AFP, L'opposition appelée à accepter sa défaite à la présidentielle, July 23, 2009. 100 AFP, Mauritanie: un opposant appelle le peuple à rejeter le "nouveau coup d'Etat", July 24, 2009. 101 Based on a late winter 2009 survey conducted by a private Mauritanian entity on behalf of a large, neutral and paying client, questioning over 1,500 Mauritanians from all ethnic groups and throughout the country. 102 Interview (#26) with Dr. Mohamed-Mahmoud El Hacen, June 2009. 103 Interview (#28) with Adama Ba, June 2009. 104 Interview (#29) with Moussa Samba N’Diaye, June 2009. 105 Le Monde and AFP, Mauritanie : pas d'anomalies majeures lors de la présidentielle, selon Paris, July 20, 2009. 106 Ibid. 107 Ibid. 108 AFP, Présidentielle en Mauritanie: l'opposition demande une commission d'enquête, July 29, 2009.

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109 AFP, Présidentielle en Mauritanie: l'opposition demande une commission d'enquête, July 29, 2009. 110 AFP, Présidentielle en Mauritanie: le candidat malheureux appelle au consensus, July 31, 2009. 111 Ibid. 112 Ibid. 113 According to a July 29 2009 Conscience et Résistance communiqué published on the popular Mauritanian portal CRIDEM, http://www.cridem.org/ index.php?id=82&no_cache=1&tx_ttnews%5Btt_news%5D=34554&tx_ttnews %5BbackPid%5D=36&cHash=dad97309e8, retrieved July 29, 2009. 114 Châtelot, Christophe, Du putschiste professionnel au "président des pauvres", Le Monde, July 20, 2009.

11 Paths Forward

The international community recognized General Abdel Aziz’s election, and will likely cooperate with him as its sole interlocutor in power for years to come. For all his shortcomings, Abdel Aziz’s role in the next chapter of Mauritanian history remains to be determined. His campaigns against corruption, absolute poverty and Islamic fundamentalism may yet bear fruit. Ironically, should Taya’s former protégé fulfill his commitments he would put an end to the neopatrimonial system. The mastermind behind two major coups might well form the bridge between military and civilian rule. Irrespective of Abdel Aziz’s policies, Mauritania’s political transformations are far from complete. They remain of interest not least due to the nation’s geostrategic import as a link between the Arab world and Sub-Saharan Africa. Yet they also offer counterintuitive lessons that challenge deeply-held assumptions in democratization theory and disprove conventional wisdom. Change and reform can come from a despotic system’s henchmen, and with the most conservative of motivations, self-preservation. A nation’s weakness can be its strength, as an impoverished Mauritania dependent upon foreign aid was compelled to follow donors’ demands for good governance and democratic reform from 2005-2006, before donors grew disinterested. Development aid can consolidate autocracy. Impeccably conducted elections can mask authoritarian commandeering of the democratic process, masquerading as the advent of democracy. Finally, Western policymakers frequently forge policies of engagement based on misunderstandings of dubiously elected leaders and neopatrimonial regimes. They would promote democracy better by combining flexible approaches towards coups directed against autocrats with policies to foster democratic demand at the base, rather than solely the apex, of society.

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The Impending Storm

Mauritania’s existing social order is doomed. It cannot be maintained against the counter-forces it inexorably generates by the sheer weight of its inequities. Its civilian elites resist renewal. The top two candidates in the 2007 presidential election had both started their careers in politics in the same cabinet over thirty years before. After serving Taya for two decades through the darkest chapters in Mauritania’s modern history, its military leadership perpetrated both the August 2005 and August 2008 coups, and their respective “democratic transition processes,” to conserve the status quo. But in refusing to meaningfully alternate power through non-violent means, despite the country’s continued stagnation, the country’s elites court disaster. A growing urban underclass of disenfranchised Haratines, dislocated Bidan, and discontented AfroMauritanians, competing for jobs with an unceasing flow of destitute West African immigrants, is priming the country for an explosion of social unrest that can only favor extremists. The country has been shaken both by the domestic upheaval visible in the November 2007 riots and the menace of Islamist extremism, embodied by the wave of terrorist attacks starting that year. Yet paradoxically the threat of radical change, has been deftly converted into an instrument for the preservation of an untenable status quo rather than a rationale for long-overdue reform. Following the August 6, 2008 coup, its partisans justified the putsch by asserting their essential role in defending the country from terrorism, as well as the ousted president’s incompetence at handling security threats. The structural dilemma posed by Mauritania’s neopatrimonialists therefore shows few signs of resolution. So long as wealth is derived from the state, either by way of embezzlement or cronyism, there should be little surprise if politics are driven not by ideas but by ambitions of access to the state’s largesse. An economy driven by the appropriation rather than the creation of wealth inevitably stagnates. A dysfunctional educational system cannot build civic and national sentiment or generate new elites. If Mauritania’s leadership cannot devise solutions acceptable to a growing underclass whose long-term interest resides in the present system’s demise, then the country’s future as a viable state is in jeopardy. Mauritanians themselves recognize the need to take back the initiative from self-interested elites and renew the country’s leadership based upon pluralistic principles. Within political parties and civil

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society groups, universities and newspapers, businesses and even barracks, many Mauritanians concur on the problems facing their nation and do the need to bring about change. However, they have few tools at their disposal. Donors, on the other hand, possess considerable leverage through their aid. The Western donor community sponsored Mauritania’s deeply flawed democratic transition process and endorsed its results. Using its considerable leverage during the 2005-2007 transition, the donors demanded form, in the shape of procedurally immaculate elections, but not substance. By identifying a failed transition as democratic, and by extension the Abdallahi government as a model of a functional democracy, the donors legitimated that administration’s brazen corruption and fed the authoritarian backlash girding the August 6, 2008 coup. By virtue of their certification of Mauritania’s flawed and incomplete democratization process, the donor community bears a measure of responsibility for the country’s dilemma and should play a key role in its resolution. The Democratic Mirage

Advocates of democratization often reify democracy as an end in itself, rather than a process fulfilling pluralist objectives through unending course corrections. They seek arrival at a mythical destination, not an endless voyage of changing courses. The desire to see an irresistible and irreversible democratic wave sweeping away autocracies everywhere sabotages its eventual triumph. At its foundation, this mischaracterization resides in a misunderstanding of democracy that reduces its essence to periodic, quantifiable measures: namely elections. Too often institutions promoting democracy have anchored their expectations in empty formal processes – elections conducted without regard for the conduct in preceding electoral campaigns – and disregarded the realities behind power relations. Yet as Mauritania’s March 2007 election underscores, the technical flawlessness of an election does not prevent external forces from subverting the democratic process. The dominant faction within the military ran a presidential campaign and had its candidate elected. More than episodic processes or procedures, democracy constitutes a living quality, a habitus of comportments, norms, standards and expectations on the part of the totality of society, from the voter to the senior-most leadership. These attributes cannot be attained with a single election cycle and a handful of constitutional amendments. Democracy promoters have been disheartened in recent years, as the past two decades have seen a remarkable shift in power. The

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“democratic recession” is a misnomer, however. After counting illusory gains, democratization advocates bemoan a global democratic recession now that unpleasant realities have become evident. States such as Iran and Libya encourage attempts at an anti-democratic counterreformation. New partners stand ready to conduct business without consideration for democratic principles. In exchange for natural resources, they will buttress the most despotic of regimes. The prodigious growth in Chinese investment and aid to Mauritania over the course of recent years, but particularly during the HCE’s rule, demonstrates the immense challenges to applying economic pressure on anti-democratic regimes. The consequent question for the West is, at what price principle? Globalization imposes difficult choices. Terrorism and the seemingly unstoppable flow of illegal immigrants compel European nations, in particular, to engage with whatever regime rules Nouakchott. Neither Brussels nor Washington could compel pluralistic politics or a competition based upon ideas and platforms rather than alliances of convenience between preexisting power elites. Foreign diplomats doubtless believed they were obtaining as much from the military as was possible given their leverage. Their errors, however, were based on their misunderstanding of the very nature of their interlocutors and the structures behind them. Resource curses persist in states whose colonial development was limited to infrastructure established for the exploitation of natural resources. Underdevelopment’s treatment often only palliates the symptoms while worsening the malady itself, as the effects of misdirected development aid engendering dependency and enriching corrupt elites illustrate, while structural adjustment measures fragment and personalize the state, consolidating their power. Paradoxically, through its policies the international community helps sustain the very neopatrimonial elites it pressures for democratic reforms. Numerous policymakers and democracy advocates continue to expect established elites to work against their interests in the name of principles they do not share. Culture and Legitimation

Neopatrimonialist elites understand the basis of their power, and they leverage their cultural capital fully to maintain it. In their interactions with Westerners, as in their domestic declarations, they adopt the language of the colonized. They deem foreign requests for political reforms neo-colonialism infringing on sovereignty and exploit any theory supporting their position as exploited subalterns, whether

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borrowed from dependency and world systems theory or critiques of neo-liberal economic policies and Bretton Woods institutions. They dismiss the idea that their countrymen might be the oppressed subalterns, or their country’s decolonization but a founding myth, obscuring the passing of the baton from one exploitative circle to another. The information dichotomy between Western-educated elites wellversed in their foreign partners’ language, culture, history, interests and power structure and those they deem ephemeral interlopers yields yet another advantage to elites. Outsiders’ perceptions are grounded in the attribution of their own worldview to those who share their cultural and semantic framework. Furthermore, foreigners can only look darkly through the glass of language and their contact. They analyze their perceptions based on assumptions and reasoning inherent to their own culture. Such perceptions often bring foreign delegations to misguided conclusions as to the intentions of their partners, whose assurances of democratic reforms in familiar language and jargon belie their interests. While Western diplomats spend at most four years in local capitals with these elites, country experts and desk officers at international organizations and foreign ministries themselves spend only weeks in countries, and senior leadership delegations spend only days. In fairness, diplomats are far from ignorant, and certainly not malevolent. They must cultivate dialogue with ruling elites so as to serve their countries’ immediate interests. These elites, though, share cultural, lexical, and eventually personal affinities with diplomats, who often gravitate away from professional rapport with marginalized potential elites with more promising long-term agendas but without these cultural attributes. Hence many foreign chancelleries have consistently chosen local elites alienated from their populaces as their privileged interlocutors and allies. Having parleyed their preexisting domination into cultural capital, such neopatrimonial elites have little intention of sacrificing these tangible advantages. It should come as no surprise then that current approaches to democracy promotion centered on engagement with host country elites are congenitally flawed. This focus ignores the very dynamics of democratization, as the struggle between predatory elites and disenfranchised subalterns. Supply-side policies generate token concessions from governments and neglect the development of demand. Though democratic development develops internally in response to favorable conditions often attributable to foreign pressure, latent domestic demand for democratic change is the precondition. Democracy

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promotion policy in developing countries must foster the forces of change within the bottom rungs of society. Lessons from Failure

The failings of Mauritania’s partners in supporting its democratization provide several lessons. First, the necessity of greater consensus on what constitutes a certifiable electoral process. The transparency of the polling is meaningless if the results are manipulated, not through the crude rigging of elections through stuffed ballot boxes and falsified voter lists, but through bribery, underground campaign financing, tribal alliances, political party fronts, and the wholesale creation of candidacies. Expecting a level political playing field may prove quixotic, and demands for elections’ credibility come at the expense of some diplomatic flexibility. Nevertheless, donors should more clearly define their standards for democratically elected, and therefore credible, interlocutors in power. The interference of the military and security elite compromised the legitimacy of Mauritania’s March 2007 presidential elections, bringing to power a weak and poorly qualified candidate who was first their creature and then their nemesis. In its haste for a democratic success in the Arab world and Africa and a legitimate government with which to conduct relations, the West anointed the process a success, and then elevated the country’s transition to a pedestal from which, without oversight guiding a policy of continued pressure on the elite, Mauritania was doomed to fall. If the donor community is to count among the arbiters of a regime’s legitimacy, it must afford the requisite means not only to the oversight of elections but the political processes behind them. Electoral supervision should display greater transparency and depth in its evaluations of elections, even though this risks alienating segments of the political landscape. Consolidating the Rule of Law

Corruption following the 2005-2007 transition stifled democracy in popular disillusionment and bankruptcy. Its roots stem from the very nature of power in the country itself, where power derives from proving one’s impunity. Corruption is not only a form of self-enrichment but one of status assertion and social ascension. Reducing everything, from a government diploma to news reports, to a commodity, the practice forms the economic foundation of neopatrimonial elites’ power. To challenge corruption is to challenge the very existence of such elites.

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In discriminating between these elites, for whom corruption brings wealth and power, and the poor, whom it alienates from the state, corruption engenders social tensions and promotes state failure. The resulting disillusionment with civilian leadership, namely the perception that politicians are all equally corrupt, fuels yet greater demand for an all-powerful chief executive. Despotism’s self-perpetuation through selflegitimization feeds a vicious circle wherein corruption and misgovernment generate demand for authoritarian measures to root out these very evils, measures implemented by a military strongman. But despots, no matter how enlightened, depend upon the same malfeasance to remain in power. They purchase loyalty through selective derogations from the letter of the law and accept the misuse of public funds, while they claim to alone be capable of combating the plagues they inflame. As so many pyromaniac firemen, despots justify their existence by claiming to snuff out the very fires they have kindled. It is facile to criticize endemic corruption at the highest levels of leadership within developing nations emerging from decades of autocracy without also considering the legions of politicians turned lobbyists or “consultants” in developed nations. Perhaps the only place the West differs is in its accommodation and institutionalization of universal human desires, having secured stability in part by ensuring that the leaders find it more profitable financially to leave power than to remain. Rather than being denied, the desire to retain one’s elevated financial and social standing must be recognized as inherent to the human condition and adequately addressed. If Abdallahi’s disastrous sixteen-month presidency yielded any lesson, it is that the tenuousness of one’s position encourages a rush to acquire as much wealth as quickly as possible. Those in power must be able to attain financial security through licit means after they have stepped down if they are to leave power after two terms and not engage in orgies of embezzlement while in office. The enforcement of anti-corruption efforts at the highest levels, including that of the chief office holder, is essential to making the incentive of entry into politics a matter of belief rather than pecuniary reward. Accountability starts at the top. Institutionalizing this process via the creation of privileged positions for former leaders of less developed countries may well be one of democracy’s unfortunate but necessary costs. Former Malian president Alpha Oumar Konaré served a five-year term as Chairman of the African Union Commission, while former Senegalese president Abdou Diouf now presides as Secretary General of the Francophonie, an international cultural organization of francophone countries. Both received their positions after relinquishing power, Diouf after accepting

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his electoral defeat and Konaré after accepting term limits. It remains to the international community to create the right incentives to respect the democratic process, such as those offered presidents Diouf and Konaré. A Study in Paradox

Mauritania’s experience punctures numerous misperceptions in the field of democracy promotion. First, it calls into question the cult of civil society. The opposition’s behavior during the transition periods following both the 2005 and 2008 coups suggests that strong opposition leaders can work against, rather than for, democratic change, should they cast their lot with authoritarian rulers to further personal rather than public interests. NGOs can become non-governmental instruments of legitimation, perpetuating the prevailing myth of democratic rule and embellishing the façade of pseudo-democracy. In Mauritania these putative democratizing elements were complicit with those within the CMJD that conspired to retain power. Most political parties and an overwhelming majority of parliamentarians sided squarely with the HCE junta. Rather than the vanguard of democratic change, opposition parties and the nexus of civil society groups were willingly manipulated as fronts for oligarchic interests. These groups coopt civil society to serve their neopatrimonial concept of the political sphere as the battleground for struggles over the state’s wealth, rather than the forum for the competition of ideas and candidates to direct governance. Mauritania’s democracy thus remains imperiled by its very political class. Trade is not necessarily better than aid. If an independent business class is stifled, while mineral wealth alone is exported and its revenues pocketed by a corrupt and autocratic elite, then trade stifles democratization and strengthens despots. Dependency upon foreign donors can serve a nation’s interest if its rulers are corrupt and the donors pursue a relatively disinterested policy based upon universalist values. Paradoxically, given a bitter colonial history, the fiats of foreign donors may serve a country better than those of its own unelected rulers, who in the guise of sovereignty serve but themselves. If conditionality in aid is critical, timing is more so. A tipping point exists during which external pressures can be effective: Mauritania’s petroleum production during the 2005-2007 had not reached the stage where it was independent of Western pressures and had developed new patrons. By the 2008 coup, petroleum production waned, but other temporary sources of support had been found. External pressure proved ineffectual overall, as examples from Sudan to Myanmar also demonstrate with stark clarity.

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Development aid has at times reinforced dictatorships and neopatrimonial elites by encouraging them to mount elaborate pseudodemocratic facades and enrich themselves through the appropriation of aid monies and the use of “briefcase NGOs.” Mauritania’s neopatrimonialists depend upon development aid for income, which they initially purloined directly from government ministries. When foreign donors moved away from direct governmental aid, the same ruling class quickly adapted, seizing upon the trend towards donor support of “grassroots” local civil society by creating briefcase NGOs that siphoned donor funding. Worse, aid donors can form a perverse symbiosis with neopatrimonialists, as they grow dependent upon the local elites who provide their work the validation they need and offer them the illusion that they wield the power to resolve the developing world’s afflictions. Donors have essentially helped create the very element that stifles their aims. A hybrid elite versed in the West’s dialectics does not hesitate to employ these skills to pursue its interests, whether blaming the West for its past injustices or embracing endless, misdirected aid as a panacea to the poverty trap. This class criticizes aid’s inefficacy, demanding greater contributions and perpetuating a sense of obligation among donors, while resisting attempts to introduce conditionality. Thus aid raises a moral hazard, perpetuating a culture of entitlement among elites who believe that foreign largesse will always flow, and further, that it is but recompense for historical iniquities. The Millennium Challenge Account and revised aid initiatives focusing on greater accountability, targeted aid, and conditionality point towards those reforms needed across the board in the field of development aid. Reinforcing Conditionality

Democratization comes only with unrelenting pressure, both internal and external, in the face of opposition from existing elites with a monopoly on political power. The record of the European Union’s role in Mauritania militates strongly for conditionality in aid and diplomatic recognition according to concrete benchmarks of success. Such measures are essential for democratization because the reallocation of power from neopatrimonialist elites to the citizenry occurs only under considerable redistributional pressures. Existing elites are quick to regain power through the pseudo-democratic frameworks that simulate consensual rule by the governed as a pretext for continued oligarchic or personal rule, as Taya’s Party-State system demonstrates. Indeed, the CMJD would never have adhered to the twenty-four points negotiated

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with the EU, including elections and a short transition period, had it not been for political pressure based almost entirely upon aid conditionality. Conditionality of aid for political reform is only to treat the developing world on an equal basis, rather than through the prism of a colonial burden. Such demands are no different from those made by financial institutions such as the IMF for decades. If the underlying economic and state structures are subject to foreign exigencies, then it remains to be answered why demands for participatory politics, civil liberties, and human rights are beyond discussion. Moreover, autocratic states cannot oppose the conditionality of aid as a violation of sovereignty without first justifying their claim to sovereignty, given their lack of public legitimization through a free and fair electoral process. Finally, aid donors have the sovereign right to proffer their aid based on conditions of their own choosing, just as beneficiaries may refuse these conditions. Sovereignty has unfortunately been appropriated as the rallying cry of tyrants from Omar al-Bashir to Robert Mugabe, who confiscate popular sovereignty only to invoke sovereign rights in rejecting foreign – and domestic – pressures to alter their current political system. Sovereignty is compromised when neopatrimonial groups capture the state. Aid donors and domestic civil society may attempt to work around the state towards the nation’s goals. Yet by providing services autocratic governments should provide, donors serve the population but indirectly prop up corrupt governments. Abandoning those in need is unconscionable. Instead, the corollary to donors’ inadvertent support should be the strengthening of a self-assertive population better able to wrest back control of the state. The weighing of democracy in good governance as a factor in development aid should be reexamined as part of increasing external pressure for reform. Political liberties and rule of law are already incorporated as three out of seventeen indicators in the Millennium Challenge Corporation’s decisions on aid allocation, for instance, but such decisions are matters of subjective judgment. In all aid programs these conditionalities should be reinforced and rebalanced towards democratic values, in light of the linkage between autocracy, neopatrimonialism and underdevelopment. Resistance from those whose interests are served by an autocratic status quo is inevitable. Making Peace with Coups?

Mauritania’s neopatrimonialists have been driven into disarray and divided between two camps for the first time. They are condemned to

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fail, for the status quo they have thrived on for decades cannot survive the coming years. At issue is whether the end of that system will come peacefully, with the gradual emergence of a more democratic order, or whether its abrupt demise will bring chaos, violence and a continuation of autocracy. This renders imperative a pragmatic and flexible strategy for democratization globally. The two-pronged strategy required seeks democracy’s spread from the governed as well as their rulers. Such a strategy would foster effective demand for democracy at the grassroots, in addition to engaging military juntas and civilian elites after recognizing what interests they would concede that might lead to substantive political reform. Given the unsustainable situation in Mauritania, another coup is not a certainty but a contingency that the country’s partners must plan for. In many autocratic regimes coups afford the most credible opportunity for change, for the military establishment stands as the final bulwark against regime collapse. These regimes have over time developed effective mechanisms to minimize foreign pressure to democratize, either through foreign patronage or elaborate patinas of democracy that defuse foreign efforts and diffuse internal pressures for political change. Even the most despotic regimes, from Burma to Zimbabwe, North Korea to Iran, will remain in power so long as they retain the loyalty of sufficient numbers of troops willing to kill their fellow citizens to maintain the established order. Softening the final layer of defense offers the last best chance at democratizing these hardened regimes. Coups should therefore be regarded as regrettable contingencies requiring preparation and cogent policy. For regardless of strong foreign discouragement, militaries in autocratic and unstable countries face powerful, structural temptations to overthrow their rulers. So long as the institutionalization of the peaceful transfer of power is prevented, and the political status quo unbearable for many, actors will struggle to overturn their rulers with the means at their disposal. For much of Mauritania’s history, coups have constantly been plotted or in preparation, with contingency plans ready to be implemented at the propitious moment. Indeed, many an officer has sought a commission and pursued a military career in the hopes of doing so. When a coup changes power in a dictatorial regime, the response of implacable resistance on the part of foreign powers is both quixotic and counterproductive. Engagement with the new junta is imperative. One cannot expect juntas such as the CMJD or HCE to act in good faith, given that their interest lies in the perpetuation of their hegemonic role in their country’s political process. Though they have neither the inclination nor the ability to engage in day-to-day governance, which

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they delegate to civilian governments, they intend to remain the dominant political force so as to protect their own interests. Yet junta leaders can be engaged and influenced to undertake courses of action that better their countries. Democracy advocates can either labor alone, impotently, or work with junta governments so as to influence them and obtain reciprocal concessions. Engagement

Chief among these concessions in Mauritania might be an implicit timeline for General Abdel Aziz’s departure, at the latest after two fiveyear mandates and with immunities and an international appointment assured him, in return for the strengthening of democratic institutions. The West should seek results from the general’s promised campaign against corruption. Having billed himself as the benevolent strongman alone able to enforce the rule of law, it is only fitting to ask that he follow through. Pressuring him to pursue his ambitious agenda would not only be salutary in its own right; it would widen the schism among neopatrimonialists. Despite doubts Abdel Aziz will destroy the system that bred him, the international community owes Mauritania an attempt at engagement and a gradual but durable democratization through a pacted transition. Sanctions are counter-productive so long as they are not precisely targeted at autocrats, for they penalize those who might be exposed to alternative worldviews while undermining the development of an independently ascendant bourgeoisie that has historically formed the backbone of resistance to despotic regimes. Even if sanctions are targeted, accommodation by third parties whose interests diverge from democratization remains a challenge. Further, few junta members are cowed by travel and banking restrictions from Western nations they have no intention of visiting. By encouraging the signature of seemingly trifling accords on such issues as human rights and offering regimes inducements tied to commitments, these ties can gradually bind regimes. The 2008-2009 opposition protests in Nouakchott demonstrate how even marginal commitments to human rights improve the odds for dissidents. Through such constraints pacted transitions are born. Military Reform

Pacted transitions are predicated upon the assurances that coup-makers who relinquish power can expect protection and rewards for their commitment to the reform process. This may be unpalatable to those

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who see in this democratization through bribery, the “buying off” of putschists. Yet compared to the price of autocracy such a practice might well be the most effective policy. As coup-leaders are allotted positions of prestige without direct command of troops, and younger, more professional officers promoted to fill their positions, the risk of coups can be mitigated. Professionally-oriented officers trained abroad generally constitute the greatest bulwark against military intervention in public life. Such potential allies are to be found in the most unexpected of places. Interviews with Mauritanian government officials and military personnel dispel Manichean notions of a monolithic apparatus whose members are uniformly committed to their leaderships’ objectives and universally share their views. Among junior personnel, poor living conditions and closer contact with ground truths generates latent – but potent – dissent. Nowhere is opposition to autocracy more threatening to autocrats than in the military, for as the CMJD’s actions suggest, a tyrant’s henchmen can become his regime’s undertakers. Are there limits to who can be influenced? Should sanctions be applied to all coup participants? Certainly the leaders of the Burmese junta, for example, cannot be allowed to travel. But rather than shunning all officers of despotic regimes, effective sanctions would establish no-travel lists of diehard henchmen, while permitting mid-ranking and junior officers to particupate in exchanges that expose them to better alternatives for the military as an institution, in the form of powerful, well-financed, wellequipped, and professional militaries that respect human rights and are controlled by democratically-elected civilians. Such measures could also broaden the divide between human rights abusers and military personnel with clean records. One such program is the US International Military Education and Training (IMET) program. The allocation of additional resources to such programs – and to officer exchanges – would help cultivate a new generation of principled, constitutionalist officers. There is no chance of enduring democratization in Mauritania without the military’s cooperation and reformation. No democratic transition can be complete without rendering Mauritania “coup-proof” by dissolving BASEP, merging disparate paramilitary forces into a functional national police force, repositioning garrisons far from the capital, especially in the northeastern regions where AQIM operates, and replacing the current generation of military leadership with younger, professional officers. Democratic transitions from Spain to Ghana illustrate that charging the military with an international security mission, in these cases NATO membership and UN peacekeeping respectively, channeled the military from politics to professionalization,

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acheiving international standards, and integration with allied militaries. Similarly, integration with the African Union Standby Force and with UN peacekeeping operations, in addition to overseas training and officer exchanges, offers an opportunity to fundamentally change the nature of Mauritania’s civil-military relations. There is no reason why such logic should not apply to other African states, particularly in a continent with far too many gunmen and too few professional soldiers. Given that peacekeepers in Africa are mostly drawn from contributing countries on that continent, civil-military relations in affected countries may not be the only beneficiary of such a policy; instead a virtuous circle or a stabilizing domino effect is within reach. Granted, officers trained in Western countries are often to be found within juntas. Yet the institutional ties with the AU, the UN and donor countries can bind militaries to democratization and professionalization processes when a viable future is assured them. Conditionality of aid on implementation of such reforms can lead juntas on a long forced march towards democracy rather than a succession of autocratic regimes. Grassroots Democratization

Efforts to promote democracy have all too often focused on generating supply without an accompanying demand, reducing democracy to periodic elections the West requires rather than daily practices the citizenry demands. When billed as a mechanical process revolving around regular elections and an ideal form without local variations or regard for the innumerable other components of political life, democracy has been discredited. Reduced to its most basic mechanisms – empty elections – democracy’s value is understandably delegitimized in the eyes of the vast majority. Common citizens who know full well what manipulations lie behind their leaders’ selection. They desire most of all more tolerable conditions, and come to associate democracy with prevarication, disappointed promises, and persisting injustices. The cause of democratization can only be advanced through the persistent application of pressure from abroad in support of domestic civil society and political groups from disenfranchised majorities within democratizing states. Only a strategy based on increasing demand for democracy, as well as supply, by focusing on the populace as well as ruling elites, can advance this cause. Such a strategy would apply pressure on elites, for whom democratic practices and the rule of law alone could secure foreign aid and address the demands of the populace.

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Taking inspiration from a land where the khaima or tent is a national icon, democracy advocates would do well to adopt a big tent strategy, focusing on as wide a base as possible through an emphasis on a commitment to democratic principles rather than a single platform or class. Sustainable democratization is impossible without the mobilization of grassroots support among broader socioeconomic strata than the intelligentsia and the upper classes. Organizing grassroots democratic movements therefore requires enfranchising those with neither the resources nor the consciousness of their abilities and social responsibilities, and then encouraging them to do so in turn. These aims are best achieved through viral dissemination strategies relying upon decentralized networks and a clear message directed to future leaders, one questioning neopatrimonialism and offering viable alternatives. Cooperation with representative civil society groups in educational campaigns would render abstract ideals elaborated in eighteenth century Europe accessible to the dispossessed in the world’s poorest nations. Despite its complexities, when simplified to its core tenets – representation based on one man, one vote, the separation of powers, checks and balances, basic civil liberties – democratic principles can be understood and appeal to an ill-educated underclass. Even in societies where human agency is doubted, contingency enshrined and fate is relinquished entirely to the hands of God, individuals long for agency in determining their own destiny. This fundamental desire constitutes the basis of democracy’s appeal to common citizens. Ideological Struggle

Democratic values have yet to permeate many stretches of the world in part because they have become a dead letter, the slogan of neopatrimonial elites rather than a rallying cry of the dispossessed. Fukuyama’s thesis of an End of History seems premature, for liberal democracy still faces competing principles throughout the world, which seek to channel frustration and stifled dissent towards their own objectives. The relative scarcity of translated literature pertaining to democracy in comparison with Islamist screeds, within the Sahel and elsewhere, is largely to blame. As mentalities shape behaviors, the struggle for minds shapes realities on the ground. An unspoken cultural struggle for the minds of young people continues throughout the developing world. Autocracies falter in their inability to offer a vision to their burgeoning youth. Despotic regimes are generally in underdeveloped

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countries with substantial youth bulges, where entire generations are wronged by governments that appear indifferent to their prospects. Nowhere is this truer than in Mauritania, where nearly half of the population is under the age of seventeen. Even when subjected to government indoctrination, relatively few are true believers, if only for the fact that the same educational system that would inculcate them in the state’s creed is so dysfunctional and discredited that its arguments hold little credence. Yet if the state has little chance at indoctrinating younger generations, the same cannot be said of other, radical elements. Those witness to the conditions students face throughout the African continent in particular cannot but be awed by their perseverance when they are deprived not only of schoolbooks but even notebooks and pens, when the diplomas they work towards can be purchased on the marketplace, and those qualifications guarantee them only unemployment. Along with those who persevere are legions of autodidacts who seek self-advancement through whatever means possible, and whose determination will see them vying with established elites for a stake in their country. Their skill, fortitude, and sheer number vastly exceed that of their privileged peers. They comprise the center of gravity behind the evolution of the least developed but fastest growing part of humanity. Their adhesion to democracy’s principles is an investment whose dividends ensure peace. This is precisely why democratization is too important to be left to politicians. As the Bush administration’s experience proved, democracy promotion is discredited when associated with any one power and its strategic interests rather than universal principles, alienating the very populations that seek change. Independent intellectuals and global civil society groups are the most credible agents in what is first a struggle of ideas. The continuing privatization of many aspects of democracy promotion is likely, as governments will find their credibility, and thus their ability to influence public opinion, is inversely proportional to their strategic power. They must empower independent civil society – as opposed to NGOs loyal to private or state interests – to act independently and play a supporting role in the building of peer-to-peer networks distributing information and instruction, forming the basis for leaderless resistance against autocracy. A forward-looking democracy promotion strategy would focus on culture through education, so as to foster grassroots demand for democracy. The West’s institutions of public diplomacy are ill-equipped in this new era. Officials have had particular difficulty leveraging the potential of liberation technology, given that the “global consciousness” afforded by information technology has not transcended a relatively

Paths Forward

297

small upper and upper-middle class in many developing nations. Until internet access becomes more prevalent or the power of more accessible liberation technologies such as satellite TV and cellphones is harnessed, their potential will not be met. Cultural centers, libraries, educational programs and seminars remain as vital as they were fifty years ago. Even more important is improving the availability of classic texts to speak for themselves. Crowd-sourcing translation and dissemination of these texts – most of which are in the public domain – offers great promise. Just as printing presses and the media face their greatest crisis in the West, their products are most needed in the developing world. Aligning supply with demand would reap great dividends, bringing not only the tools to combat autocracy but also renewal to the West. Ultimately the struggle for democracy in autocratic regimes is not solely the pursuit of a moral objective or the implementation of a quaint political theory. It is nothing less than the ultimate guarantor of stability in a vast global strand characterized by the root causes of terrorism: extreme poverty, competition over scarce resources, injustices under authoritarian regimes, and the related allure of violent religious extremism promising purpose and justice. Policymakers may be tempted to dismiss the idea of securing long-term peace and stability through the gradual democratization of autocratic states as the folly of discredited neoconservatives. A realist framework seeking to manage crises as they arise and pursue interests in the short-term holds greater appeal momentarily but is ultimately fruitless. Democratization should be distinguished from the disastrous policies implemented towards this goal, and policy-makers should seek an overarching democratization strategy to serve long-term interests. At stake is an army of dispossessed future citizens reminded of their misfortunes daily through the consumerist youth culture propagated by globalization – a force that has the power to slowly overturn autocracies. Their grievances are not so much their present poverty as their disenfranchisement and lack of prospects for improving their existence. If globalization has heightened their awareness of their plight, it has also empowered them with the means to share their misery beyond borders. Whether their driving beliefs are radical ideologies springing from manipulations of sacred texts, secular dogmas from the past century, or basic democratic tenets militating for equal representation, civil liberties and human rights, depends upon the engagement of those who hold these democratic principles dear and seek to support them. In the balance lie not only their lives and liberties, but ours.

Acronyms and Terms

AJD/MR – Alliance pour la Justice et la Démocratie/Mouvement pour la Renovation, or the Alliance for Justice and Democracy/Renewal Movement, a political party led by Moctar Sarr whose traditional political base has lain in Mauritania’s predominantly Afro-Mauritanian south as well as Nouakchott. AMDH – Mauritanian Human Rights Association. AMI – Agence Mauritanienne d’Informations, the state-run Mauritanian press service. APP – Alliance Progressive Populaire or Progressive People’s Alliance, an opposition party opposed to the August 6 2008 coup. Led by Messaoud Ould Boulkheir, a Haratine politician and former head of the National Assembly. AU – African Union. Bambara – An Afro-Mauritanian ethnicity located in small numbers in Mauritania, primarily in the east, but prevalent throughout West Africa and particularly Mali. BASEP – Bataillon Autonome de SÉcurité Présidentielle – Presidential Guard Battalion. Beni Hassan – the long-dominant warrior tribes, considered to be the descendants of the Arab Banu Hassan tribe, itself originally of Yemeni origin. Bidan – Moors of free Arab-Berber patrilineage. Historically, the dominant ethnicity in Mauritania. CENI – Commission Electorale Nationale Indépendante, the Independent National Electoral Commission. CILCEL – La Cellule Interministérielle de Liaison et de Communication Electorales, or the Cabinet Electoral Communication and Liaison Cell. CLTM – Confédération Libre des Travailleurs de Mauritanie, or the Free Confederation of Mauritanian Workers. CMJD – Comité Militaire pour la Justice et la Démocratie or military committee for justice and democracy, the junta that took power in the wake of the August 5th, 2005 coup before relinquishing power to President Sidi Ould Cheikh Abdallahi and an elected parliament.

299

300

Mauritania: The Struggle for Democracy

CMRN – Comité Militaire de Redressement National or the Military Committee for National Recovery, the junta led by Colonel Mustafa Ould Salek from the July 10, 1978 coup to the April 6, 1979 coup. CMSN – Comité Militaire de Salut National or Military Committee for National Salvation, the junta that deposed Colonel Ould Saleck in the April 6, 1979 coup. The junta remained in name until the introduction of the multi-party system in 1992 following the election of Maaoya Taya as President. Taya had taken power through the December 12, 1984 coup and had ruled as chief executive since then. CNDH – Commission Nationale des Droits de L’Homme, Mauritania’s National Human Rights Commission. CSVVDHM – Le Comite de Solidarité avec les Victimes des Violations des Droits de l’Homme en Mauritanie or Solidarity Committee for the Victims for Human Rights Violations in Mauritania, an NGO focused in particular on human rights violations committed during the Taya government’s 1987-1991 repression. ECOWAS – Economic Community of West African States. EU – The European Union. FLAM – The Forces de Libération Africaines de Mauritanie or African Liberation Forces of Mauritania is an Afro-Mauritanian exile group dedicated to overthrowing what it deems Bidan rule over Mauritania. FNDD – Front National pour la Défense de la Démocratie or National Front for the Defense of Democracy, a coalition of political parties against the August 6, 2007 coup. The FNDD served as a political umbrella group comprising the PNDD/ADHIL, the UFP, the APP, the PLEJ, and the Tawassoul parties. FONADH – Le Forum des Organisations Nationales des Droits Humains or human rights organizations forum. FRPC/PRGF – Facilité pour la réduction de la pauvreté et pour la croissance or the Poverty Reduction and Growth Facility (PRGF), an instrument of the International Monetary Fund intended to tie poverty reduction and growth to IMF lending practices in the poorest member states, such as Mauritania. GERDDES – Le Groupe d’Etudes et de Recherches pour la Démocratie et le Développement Economique et Social or Study and Research Group for Democracy and Economic and Social Development. La Gendarmerie Nationale – the paramilitary police force reporting to the Ministry of Defense and responsible for maintaining law and order outside major cities.

List of Acronyms and Terms

301

Halpulaar – The Halpulaar, or Halpulaar’en, is in common use in Mauritania given to those who speak the Peul language, including both the Peul and the Toucouleur. HAPA – La Haute Autorité de la Presse et de l’Audiovisuel, High Commission on the Press and the Medias. Haratine – As a distinct ethnic group – likely Mauritania’s largest – the Haratine are the Arabic-speaking descendants of the Bidan’s slaves. In the past referred to as “Black Moors”, the Haratine are part of the Arab-Berber community claiming African and Arab-Berber origins. HATEM – The Mauritanian Party of Union and Change, led by former military officer and coup leader Saleh Ould Hannena. Horma – A tribute subservient tribes such as the Znaga would pay their overlords, usually the warrior Beni Hassan tribes. HCE – Le Haut Conseil d’État or High Council of State, the junta that took power in the wake of the August 6, 2008. Composed of twelve officers and led by Brigadier General Mohamed Ould Abdel Aziz. OADH – L’Organisation Arabe des Droits Humains or Arab Human Rights Organization. OIC – Organization of the Islamic Conference. OIF – L’Organisation Internationale de la Francophonie, a Parisbased international organization comprising the world’s francophone countries and focused on the promotion of the French language. ONE – L’Observatoire National des Elections or national elections observatory. Peul – The common Mauritanian term for the Afro-Mauritanian ethnicity spread throughout West, North and Central Africa, known to the south and east of Mauritania’s borders as the Fula, Fulani or Fulbe. PLEJ – Parti pour L’Égalité et la Justice, the Equality and Justice party that joined the FNDD. PNDD–ADIL – The National Pact for Development and Democracy; the governing party under Sidi Ould Cheikh Abdallahi. PRDR - Parti Républicain pour la Démocratie et le Renouveau, the Republican Party for Democracy and Renewal, the successor party to the PRDS. PRDS – the Parti Républicain Démocratique et Social or Social and Democratic Republican Party, the ruling party under Maaouya Ould Sid’Ahmed Taya. RAVEL – Recensement administratif à vocation électorale; an administrative census for electoral purposes. RC – Centrist Reformists, a coalition of independent Islamists. RDU – Rassemblement pour la Démocratie et l’Union, the Rally for Democracy and Unity, led by Ahmed Ould Sidi Baba

302

Mauritania: The Struggle for Democracy

RFD – Rassemblement des Forces Démocratiques, one of Mauritania’s main opposition parties, led by Ahmed Ould Daddah. RSF – Reporters sans Frontières, an NGO dedicated to freedom of the press and the protection of journalist. Soninké – An Afro-Mauritanian ethnic group from the central Senegal river region. Known as Sarakolle by Wolof speakers, they claim descendence from the Bafours, Mauritania’s first known inhabitants. SN – La Sûreté Nationale, a national police force organized on military lines but reporting to the Ministry of the Interior. Tawassoul – A self-proclaimed moderate Islamist party led by Jemil Mansour and legalized under President Abdallahi. UFD – The Union of Democratic Forces, the first major opposition party of the Taya era, founded by Ahmed Ould Daddah in 1991. The party split in 1998 into the UFD/B, which would become the UFP, and UFD-EN, under Ould Daddah’s leadership, which was dissolved by Taya in October 2000 but whose structure would become the RFD. UDP – Union for Democracy and Progress, one of Mauritania’s larger political parties and the only party led by a woman, Naha Mint Mouknass, the daughter of UDP founder Hamdi Ould Mouknass. UFP – Union des Forces du Progrès or the Union of Progressive Forces, opposition party that joined the FNDD in opposing the junta. UMA – Arab Maghreb Union. UPP – Union Populaire Progressiste, or the People’s Progressive Union, part of the FNDD. UPR – The Union pour la République or Union for the Republic, the current ruling party founded in May 2009 for General Mohamed Ould Abdel Aziz. Wolof – One of the main Afro-Mauritanian ethnicities, concentrated primarily on Mauritania’s southern coast and now in Noukachott. The dominant ethnic group in Senegal. Zawiya – Also referred to as the Zaouiya or “Marabout” tribes, the Zawiya are a caste of scholarly and religious tribes. Traditionally subservient to the Hassane tribes, the Zawiya nonetheless fulfilled important functions, overseeing religious education. Znaga – The caste of tribes and clans at the lowest level of Mauritanian Arab-Berber society, forbidden from bearing arms and subject to the horma. The Znaga are thought to be the descendants of Berber inhabitants predating Mauritania’s conquest by the Banu Hassane in the 12th century.

Bibliography

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Ahmed Salem, Zekeria Ould, Editor, Les trajectoires d’un État frontière: Espaces, évolution politique et transformation sociales en Mauritanie, Conseil pour le Développement de la Recherche en Sciences Sociales en Afrique, 2004. Arceneaux, Craig L., Bounded Missions: Military Regimes and Democratization in the Southern Cone and Brazil, Pennsylvania State University Press, 2001. Belvaude, Catherine, La Mauritanie, Karthala, 1989. Beyrouk, Mbarek Ould, Et le ciel a oublié de pleuvoir, Dapper, Paris, 2006. Clark, A. F., 'From Military Dictatorship to Democracy: The Democratisation Process in Mali', in R.J. Bingen et al. (eds.) Democracy and Development in Mali, East Lansing, MI: Michigan State University Press, 2000. Cook, Steven A., Ruling But Not Governing: The Military and Political Development in Egypt, Algeria, and Turkey, Johns Hopkins University Press, 2007. Désiré-Vuillemin, Geneviève, Histoire de la Mauritanie – Des origines à l’indépendence, Karthala, 1997. Démocratie et Tribalisme en Mauritanie, Groupe d’Intellectuels pour la Sauvegarde des Acquis Démocratiques (GISAD), No. 002, December 1997. Devey, Muriel, La Mauritanie, Karthala, 2005. Diamond, Larry J., Political Culture and Democracy in Developing Countries, Lynne Rienner Publishers, 1993. Diamond, Larry J., The Spirit of Democracy, Times Books, 2008. Droit de réponse: (ou defense de l’image de marque de la Mauritanie), RIM, 1989. El Khetab, Mouhamed Lemine Ould, Facettes de la Réalité Mauritanienne, L’Harmattan, 2006. Fleischman, Janet, Mauritania's Campaign of Terror: StateSponsored Repression of Black Africans, Human Rights Watch, 1994.

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Gerteiny, Alfred G., Mauritania, Praeger, 1967. Handloff, Robert E., Mauritania: A Country Study, Federal Research Division, Library of Congress, 1990. Horowitz, Donald L., Coup Theories and Officers’ Motives: Sri Lanka in Comparative Perspective, Princeton University Press, 1980 Horowitz, Donald L., Ethnic Groups in Conflict, University of California Press, 1985. Huntington, Samuel P., The Soldier and the State: The Theory and Politics of Civil-Military Relations, Indiana University Press, 1959. Kandeh, Jimmy D., Coups from Below: Armed Subalterns and State Power in West Africa, Palgrave McMillan, 2004. Kieh, George Clay and Agaba, Pita Ogaba, Editors, The Military and Politics in Africa: from Engagement to Democratic and Constitutional Control, Ashgate, 2004. Luckham, Robin, The Military, Militarization and Democratization in Africa: A Survey of Literature and Issues, African Studies Review, Vol. 37, No. 2, September 1994, pp. 13-75. Luttwak, Edward, Coup d’État: A Practical Handbook, Harvard University Press, 1979. Marchesin, Philippe, Tribus, Ethnies et Pouvoir en Mauritanie, Karthala, 1992. Mohamedou, Mohammad-Mahmoud Ould, Societal Transition to Democracy in Mauritania, Dar Al Ameen, 1994. N'Diaye, Boubacar, Abdoulaye Saine and Mathurin Houngnikpo, Not Yet Democracy: West Africa's Slow Farewell to Authoritarianism, Carolina Academic Press, 2005. Pazzanita, Anthony G., Historical Dictionary of Mauritania, The Scarecrow Press, Inc, 1996. Rial, Juan, Armies and Civil Society in Latin America, pg, 66, in Larry J. Diamond and Marc F. Plattner, editors, Civil-Military Relations and Democracy, Johns Hopkins University Press, 1996. Villasante-de Beauvais, Mariella, Parenté et Politique en Mauritanie: Essai d’Anthropoligie historique, le devenir contemporain des Ahl Sidi Mahmud, confédération bidan de l’Assaba, L’Harmattan, 1998. Journal articles

Horowitz, Donald L., Democracy in Divided Societies, Journal of Democracy, October 1993. Jourde, Cédric, Constructing Representations of the ‘'Global War on Terror’' in the Islamic Republic of Mauritania, Journal of

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Contemporary African Studies, Vol. 25, No. 1, January 2007, pp. 77100. Jourde, Cédric, “The President is Coming to Visit!”: Dramas and the Hijack of Democratization in the Islamic Republic of Mauritania, Comparative Politics, 37(4), July 2005, pp. 421-440. Kinne, Lance, The Benefits of Exile: The case of FLAM, The Journal of Modern African Studies, Vol. 39, No. 4 (Dec., 2001), pp. 597-621. N’Diaye, Boubacar, Mauritania, August 2005: Justice and Democracy, or just another coup?, African Affairs (Oxford), Volume 105, Number 420, 2006, pp. 421-441. N’Diaye, Boubacar, Francophone Africa in Flux: Mauritania’s stalled democratization, The Journal of Democracy, Volume 12, Number 3 (2001), pp. 88-95. N’Diaye, Boubacar, To ‘midwife’ – and abort – a democracy: Mauritania's transition from military rule, 2005–2008, The Journal of Modern African Studies, Vol. 47 No. 1, 2009, pp. 129-152. Pazzanita, Anthony G., Mauritania's Foreign Policy: the Search for Protection, The Journal of Modern African Studies (1992), 330, pp. 281-304. Pazzanita, Anthony G., The Origins and Evolution of Mauritania's Second Republic, The Journal of Modern African Studies, Vol. 34, No. 4 (Dec., 1996), pp. 575-596. Pazzanita, Anthony G., Political Transition in Mauritania: Problems and Prospects, Middle East Journal, Vol. 53, No. 1 (Winter, 1999), pp. 44-58. Welzel, Christian and Inglehart, Ronald, The Role of Ordinary People in Democratization, The Journal of Democracy, Volume 19, Number 1, January 2008, pp. 126-140. Independent reports

Amnesty International, Mauritania: Torture at the Heart of the State, December 3, 2008. Binnendijk, Anik, and Marovic, Ivan, Power and Persuasion: Nonviolent Strategies to Influence State Security Forces in Serbia (2000) and Ukraine (2004), Communist and Post-Communist Studies, September 2006. Blundo, Giorgio, « Graisser la barbe » : Mécanismes et logiques de la corruption en Mauritanie, Note de synthèse établie à l’intention de la Délégation de la Commission européenne en Mauritanie, February 2007.

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Campagne Mondiale pour la Liberté d’Expression, Mauritanie : Rapport sur la Liberté d’Expression: Nous revenons de loin, mais restons vigilants, June 2007. International Crisis Group, La Transition Politique en Mauritanie: Bilan et Perspectives, Rapport Moyen-Orient Afrique du Nord, No 53, April 24, 2006. US Department of State, Country Reports on Human Rights Practices: Mauritania, 2006, State Department Bureau of Democracy, Human Rights and Labor, March 6, 2007. http://www.state.gov/g/drl/rls/ hrrpt/2005/61581.htm.

Index Abdallahi, Dedahi Ould, 37 Abdel Aziz, Mohamed Ould, 5, 292; dominance over Abdallahi, 161, 177; 2009 electoral victory, 270275, 281; HCE junta leadership, 203, 220, 226-227, 230, 233-239, 251-253, 301, 302; leadership of 2008 coup, 183-189, 191-194; manipulation of the 2007 presidential election, 1, 131-132, 134, 136-137, 140-141, 143, 147148, 192, 221; 2008=2009 preelectoral campaigning, 7, 197198, 204-207, 216, 223-224, 235236, 240-241, 253-258, 261-262; 2009 presidential campaign, 262269; role in the 2005 coup, 95-98; drawing support from AfroMaurianians, 255, 262-263, 269; service to Taya, 51, 59, 64, 66, 68-70, 81, 200 Abdel Kader, Isselmou Ould, 200 Abu-Bakr Ibn-Umar, 11 Adrar, 9, 19, 144 African Union, 7, 81, 86, 185, 190, 220, 231, 236-237, 251, 255, 270, 287, 294, 299; AU Peace and Security Council, 220, 237; AU Standby Force, 294 Afro-Mauritanians, 9, 13, 16, 18-19, 21, 23-25, 29, 33, 91-92, 139, 226, 271, 275, 299, 300, 301, 302; oppression of, 35-36, 38, 67, 96, 257-258 Ahmadinejad, Mahmoud, 233 Ahmed, Mohamed Lemine Ould, 250 Ahmed Tolba, Aïcha Mint, 79 Air Mauritanie scandal, 172, 206 AJD/MR, 226, 299 Al-Ainin, Sheikh Maa, 19 Al Arabiya television, 114, 196 Algeria, 9, 17, 38, 61-62, 65-66, 69, 84, 87, 156, 158, 188;

Mauritanian relations with, 2426, 190-191 Al Jazeera, 115, 142, 241 Almaamy, 10 Al Mithaq Alliance, 137 Almoravids, 11, 156, 227, 252 Al Qaida in the Islamic Maghreb (AQIM – formerly the GSPC), 2, 43, 143, 224, 230, 257; attack on El Ghalliya, 154; attack on Israeli embassy, 154; kidnappings, 156; attack on Lemreighty, 58; killing of Christopher Leggett, 249; GSPC, 68, 81; killings of French tourists in Aleg, 153-155, 178 American policy towards Mauritania, 234, 259-260; development aid, 82, 199, 215, 218; “good cop/bad cop” role with EU, 81-82; support to Mauritanian military, 59, 66, 82 AMI (Mauritanian Information Agency), 113, 254 Andalusia, 11, 227 Ani.mr, 203 Anti-democratic counter-reformation, 7, 87, 284; “democratic recession”, 2, 4-5, 284; “Asia look”, 87; new partners, 87-88, 284 APP, see People’s Progressive Alliance Arabization, 18, 21 Arab League, 31, 42, 143, 198, 215, 229, 232, 251 Arab Maghreb Union, 191, 229, 258, 302 Arafat, Yasser, 37 Armed Forces, Mauritanian, 26, 27, 34-35, 49-53, 58-59, 63, 65-68, 90, 99, 134, 140, 151, 183, 186187, 201, 219, 220, 275; Air Force, 52, 63, 66; corruption

307

308

Index

within and readiness, 67-69, 95; Navy, 37, 66, 229 Armed Forces Movement, see Democratization, Portugal Asabiya, 32 Asharite rite, 156, 159 Assistance to Mauritanian opposition, foreign, see National Democratic Institute, controversy Atatürk, Kemal, 90 AQIM, see Al-Qaida in the Islamic Maghreb Baccalaureate, 67, 173 Bafours, 9 Ba Mamadou M’baré, 253, 256-258 Bambara, 10, 299 Banc d’Arguin, 12 Banna, Hassan Al, 159 Baraka, 55 BASEP, 51, 59, 64, 66, 70, 75, 9596, 134, 141, 148, 161, 183, 184, 200-201, 275, 293, 299 Baule speech, 38 Baye, Ahmedou Bamba Ould, 201, 238 BCM, see Mauritanian Central Bank Beni Hassan, 9, 11-12, 17-18, 28, 64, 299, 301 Berbers, 5, 9, 11-12, 16, 252, 299, 301, 302 Berlin Conference (1884-1885), 24 Beye, Samory Ould, 206 Beyrouk, Mbarek Ould, 39, 303 Bezeid, Didi Ould, 250 Bidan, 9, 11-16, 18-19, 25, 30, 36, 50, 53, 63, 67, 137, 163, 175, 275, 282, 299; political dominance, 14-15, 24, 34, 36, 41, 116, 120, 138, 159-160, 201 BIMA, see International Bank of Mauritania Black Moors, see Haratine Bouamatou, Mohamed Ould, 95, 199, 269 Boubacar, Abderahmane Ould, 59, 70 Boubacar, Sidi Mohamed Ould, 79 Bouceif, Lieutenant Colonel Ahmed Ould, 28 Boukhary, Khattou Mint, 141, 175176, 216, 221

Boukreiss, Moulaye Ould, 95 Boulkheir, Messaoud Ould, 15, 55, 135, 139, 142, 144-145, 190, 193, 227, 239, 251, 258, 263, 266, 270, 299 Braham, Abou Abbass Ould, 201 Breideleil, Yedih Ould, 37 Calame, Le, 39, 121 Canary Islands, 24, 62, 194, 198, 227, 259 Carnation Revolution, see Democratization, Portugal CENI, see Independent National Electoral Commission CFA Franc, 21-22 Char Bouba war, 11 Cheikh, Baba Ould, 175 Cheikh Abdallahi, Sidi Ould, 1, 6-7, 133, 137-138, 141-144, 299, 301, 302; allegations of corruption, 171, 216, 220-221, 241; collusion with the military, 137, 147, 266; confrontation with Abdel Aziz (2008-2009), 204, 224-225, 230, 240, 251-254, 261, 264-265; government, 160-164, 167-169, 202, 207, 229, 259, 283, 287; imprisonment, 215, 222, 258; opposition to, 175-178; overhrow by Abdel Aziz, 183-196; reform attempts, 161-164 Citizens’ Initiative for Change (ICC), 113, 115 Civil-military relations, 61-70, 87, 90-91, 188, 235-236, 239, 294 Civil society, 110, 120, 175, 217; “briefcase NGOs”, 173-175, 234235, 289 CMJD, 1, 299; commitments, 77-78, 96, 109, 192; decision-making, 79, 85-89; EU-US relations with, 80-82; internal rivalries, 97-98, 134-136, 141-142; leadership of the 2005-2007 transition, 108112, 118-125, 188, 235, 257, 269; manipulation of transition, 131136, 144, 146-148, 196, 254, 288289; motivations, 90-94, 98=99, 291, 293 CMRN, 27-28, 92, 300

Index 309

CMSN, 28-29, 31, 34, 64, 92, 197, 300 CNDH, see National Human Rights Commission Coalition of Forces for Democratic Change, 134 Colonial rule, see France Compaoré, Blaise, 53 Conditionality, development aid, 62, 82-84, 116, 124, 160, 288-290 Conscience and Resistance, 275 Constitutional amendment, 21, 111, 167, 235-237, 238-239, 283 Constitutional Court, 140, 193, 270, 272 Consultation sessions, 2005-2007 transition, 80, 108, 147 Coppolani, Xavier, 17, 19, 156 Corruption, 6, 26-27, 29-32, 43, 5455, 61, 65, 67-68, 78-70, 89, 9496, 118-119, 123, 137, 145, 154, 161, 171, 174-177, 181, 184-185, 189-190, 193-194, 197-198, 200, 203, 205-207, 211-212, 215, 219, 224, 228-229, 241, 254-255, 266, 268-269, 281, 283, 286-287, 292; commodification, 173-174; development aid, 4, 174; discrimination and state failure, 287; institutionalization, 31-33; Coups, 219-220; 1978, 27-31, 64, 156; 1984, 30, 157; 2005, 75-77, 80-81, 85, 111, 122, 124, 140, 147, 288; 2008, 141, 183-195, 199-206, 208, 216-217, 222, 226227, 229-231, 235-237, 240, 242, 254, 259, 265, 270, 274, 282-283, 288; adapting to coups against autocrats, 290-292; 1987 coup attempt, 34; 2003 coup attempt, 49-53, 55, 61, 68, 97, 139, 142; cycles, 30-31; democratizing, see Democratization, coups; ideology, 53-55; motivations, 6870, 85-94, 98-100 Daddah, Ahmed Ould, 40, 41, 89, 133, 135, 137, 138, 142, 144, 157, 170, 194, 230, 240, 253, 259, 267, 270, 272, 302

Daddah, Moktar Ould, 19, 21-23, 2628, 43, 90, 96, 137-138, 145, 185, 223, 226, 233, 256-257, 267 Dah, Mohamed Lémine Salem Ould, 39 Debt, 33, 58; debt reduction and debt forgiveness, 164 Dedew, Mohamed Hassan Ould, 79 De Gaulle, Charles, 90, 167 Dellali, Mekhalla Ould, 257 Democracies, emerging, 168, 196 Democratization, 2-5, 7, 23, 31, 3839, 44, 46-47, 61-62, 76, 82, 88, 93, 98-99, 101, 106, 113, 124, 126, 138, 144, 146, 157, 164, 189, 195-196, 159, 171, 281, 283286, 288-289, 291-297, 303-305; aid dependency, 88-89; coups, 99-100; EU-US differences, 8385; grassroots, 294-295; Ghana, 91, 108; Mali, 80, 91-93, 106; Portugal, 99; pseudo-democracy, 2, 31, 39, 76, 87, 94, 105, 141, 148, 157, 162, 271, 288-289; sources, 106-108; terrorism prevention, 296-297 Demonstrations, 1992, 41; tactics, 225, 263-264 Desert Spring, 38 Dey, Mohamed Mahmoud Ould, 95 Deye, Sid’Ahmed Ould, 272 Diamond, Larry, 106, 202 Diawara, 35 Diouf, Abdou, 265, 287-288 Djinn, 13 Drought (1969-1974), 16, 23-24, 2627, 29, 33-34 Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS), 176, 300 Egypt, 10, 22, 61, 87, 90, 156, 185, 232 Elections, effective democracy, 107; 1992 presidential, 38-42; 2003 presidential, 55-56; 2007 presidential, 111, 114, 131-134, 136-148, 221; 2009 presidential, 238, 256, 265, 269-272, 274-275; 2009 controversy, 270-272 Emerging powers, 231

310

Index

Emirs, 14, 27, 29 Emirates, 14, 18-19, 159 ENA, see National School of Administration Engagement, policy, 81, 99, 281, 285, 291-292, 297 “Estates general of democracy”, 2008-2009, 234-235 European Union (EU), 6, 62, 80-81, 83-84, 89, 131, 136, 189, 145148, 192, 194, 196, 198-200, 218, 221, 227, 229, 237, 255, 258-259 Fahd of Saudi Arabia, funeral, 70, 75 Faidherbe, Louis, 17 Fatimid Caliphate, 252 Female Genital Mutilation (FGM), 13, 161-162 Fespaco Panafrican Film Festival, 215 FLAM, 34, 41, 53, 300 FNDD, see National Front for the Defense of Democracy Food prices, global crisis, 2007-2008, 165-166; inflation and role in politics, 153, 178, 206, 217, 263 Foreign Operations Appropriations Act, Section 508, 80, 199 France, colonialism, 17-19, 62; françafrique, 259; role in 20082009 political crisis, 185, 191, 231, 258, 259, 261, 268-269, 274; post-independence relations with Mauritania, 20, 23, 26-27, 38, 63, 66, 78 Freedom by fiat, 105, 121, Freedom of expression, 39, 61, 121, 159; advances during the 20052007 transition, 110-115, 146; backsliding under Abdallahi, 175177; regression under the HCE junta, 191, 202, 224, 254, 268; media deregulation, 113, 146, 202, 268 Fukuyama, Francis, 295 Fulbe, see Peul Fulfulde, 10 Futa Tooro, 10 Gadio, Cheikh Tidiane, 261 Garde Nationale, 51, 66 Gavage, 13

Gaza, invasion of, 232-233; effects on Mauritanian domestic politics, 233-234 Gendarmerie, 49, 52, 66, 68, 76, 95, 161, 183, 206, 218, 300 Gerrymandering, 40 Ghalliya, El, see Al-Qaida in the Islamic Maghreb, attack on El Ghalliya Ghana Empire, 10, 11 Gharama, 12 Ghazwani, Mohamed Ould, 59, 9697, 134, 161, 183-184, 189 Globalization, 3, 164, 284, 297; effect on Mauritania, 88, 164, 204-205 Griot, 12, 257 GSPC, see Al Qaida in the Islamic Maghreb Guéï, Robert, 86 Haidallah, Mohamed Khouna Ould, 28-31, 55-57, 80, 108, 157, 197198 Hallassou, Elie, 222 Halpulaar, 10, 18, 36, 301 Hannena, Saleh Ould, 50-53, 56-57, 59, 69, 139-140, 371, 301 HAPA, see High Authority for the Press and the Media Haratines, 9, 14-16, 18, 24, 29, 33, 35-36, 55, 67, 120, 135, 139, 144145, 159-160, 162-163, 217, 270, 282, 299, 301 Hassaniya, 11, 18, 21, 25, 241 HATEM party, 140, 237, 256, 301 Haye, Moktar Ould, 37 HCE junta, 92, 191-193, 199, 203, 217, 220, 226, 237-241, 266-267, 284, 288, 291, 301; rallies, 186187, 205, 217 Hemet, Habib Ould, 79, 91, 108, 133 High Authority for the Press and the Media (HAPA), 112-113, 175, 268, 301 Hilli, Ahmed Ben, 191, 198 Hmaida, Zeïdane Ould, 58, 140 Hor, El, 24, 29 Horma, 12 Horowitz, Donald, 90 Hu Jintao, 231

Index 311

Human Rights Watch, 35, Hussein, King of Jordan, 37 ICC, see Citizens’ Initiative for Change Ideology, in elections, 139-140, 270271; Afro-Mauritanian nationalism, 43, 273; Arab nationalism, 21-22, 43, 50-51, 6566, 92, 94, 145, 256; Bathism, 22, 29, 37, 41, 51, 53, 56, 80, 91, 138, 145; Islamism, see Islamism in Mauritania; Marxism, 21-23, 53-54, 145; Nasserism, 22, 29, 53, 145, 159, 217, 273; neopatrimonialist, 2, 6, 284, 289; Third-worldism, 88; struggle between ideologies, contemporary, 3; within the military, 64-65, 90-91 IGE, see State General Inspectorate IMF, see International Monetary Fund IMET, 61, 66, 77, 205, 293 Immigration and emigration from Mauritania, 24, 57, 60, 62, 124, 194, 227-230, 282, 284 Independence, Mauritania’s, 19-20, 27, 35 Independent National Electoral Commission (CENI), 78, 136, 162, 238, 265, 272, 299 Inglehart, Ronald, 106-107 International Bank of Mauritania (BIMA), 198 International Monetary Fund (IMF), 33-34, 190, 300 Islam in Mauritania, 9, 11, 13-14, 3132, 54, 156-160, 273; Sufism, 11, 13-14, 18, 54, 159 Islamic Development Bank, 254 Islamism in Mauritania, 43, 50, 5255, 65-66, 79, 156, 158-160, 251, 258, 271, 273; Islamists imprisoned under Taya, 79; the role of moderate Islamist parties in democracies, 158 Israel, 7, 41-42, 51-52, 57, 80-81, 154, 176, 232-234, 240, 271 Jeddane, Aicha Mint, 55 Jordan, 37, 84, 232

Journées de concertation, 80, 108 Joyandet, Alain, 274 Kabbah, Ahmad Teja, 85 Kadihines, 21-23, 26, 53, 119, 157, 159 Kane, Hamidou Baba, 240, 261, 269, 271 Kehel, Moctar Ould, 257 Khairou, Hammada Ould Mohamed, 156 Khaliya, Sidi Mohamed El, 31 Khounty, Sid El Moctar El, 31 Knights of Change, The, 52-53, 139 Konaré, Alpha Oumar, 38, 94, 287288 Kuwait, relations with Mauritania, 37-38, 137, 157 Laghdaf, Moulaye Ould Mohamed, 194, 215, 221-222, 263; support for Abdel Aziz’s campaign, 263 Lampedusa, Giuseppe Tomasi di, 98 Land reform, 34, 165 Leggett, Christopher, 249-250 Lekwar, Abderrahmane Ould, 37 Liberation technology, 202, 296-297 Lipset, Seymour Martin, 106 Lomé, 2000 declaration, 86 Louly, Lieutenant Colonel Mohammed Mahmoud Ould, Madrassa, see Mahadra Maghreb, 2, 12, 14, 84, 202 Magistrates, Mauritanian, 56, 117118, 163 Maha, Sidi Mohamed Ould, 186 Mahadra, 11 Mahfoud, Haib Ould, 39, 121 Mandekan, 10 Malekite rite, 11, 13, 54, 156, 159 “Manifesto of the Oppressed AfroMauritanian,” 34, 139 Mansour, Jemil, 52, 157, 170, 186, 267, 270=271, 302 Maouloud, Mohamed Ould, 135, 193 Mauretania, 9 Mauritanian Central Bank (BCM), 163 Mauritanian People’s Party, 20-21, 63, 169, 226 Mauritanian Progressive Union, 19

312

Index

Mauritanian Television (TVM), 53, 75, 112-113, 183, 186, 200-202, 252, 263 Maqil tribes, 11 Meknès, Moroccan military academy, 94 Membe, Bernard, 236 Messoud, Boubacar, 15, 93 Michel, Louis, 218, 229 MIFERMA, 22 Milani, Abbas, 87 MND, see National Democratic Movement Moctar, Abdallahi Ould, 206 Mohamedou, Mohamed-Mohamed Ould, 203 Mollet, Guy, 19 Moors, 5, 9, 11, 14-15, 18-19, 21, 3132, 54, 96, 146, 251, 271; caste system, 12; society, 14, 159, 173, 190 Morocco, 9, 11, 24, 38, 84, 95, 96, 159, 252; Mauritanian relations with, 25-26, 63, 70, 191, 217218, 228 Moualla, Abdellahi Salem Ould El, 183 Mouktar, Isaac Ould El, 200 Muslim brotherhoods, see Tijaniya or Quadiriya brotherhood Nasser, Gamel Abdel, 22, 90 National Action Plan for the Environment (PANE), 109 National Civic Service, 63 National Democratic Institute for International Affairs (NDI), controversy, 259-260 National Democratic Movement (MND), 21, 23 National Front for the Defense of Democracy (FNDD), 187, 190, 192, 201, 205-207, 215-217, 219220, 224-226, 234, 237-241, 251253, 257-264, 266-267, 300 National Human Rights Commission (CNDH), 161, 300 National Order of Mauritanian Lawyers, 177, 216

National Pact for Democracy and Development (PNDD), 123, 170, 194-195, 300, 301 National School of Administration (ENA), 79 Nationalism, Mauritanian, 20, 22-23 NATO, 293 Ndiayane, Mohammed Lemine Ould, 37 Negri, Felix, 183, 189 Neolithic era, 9 Neopatrimonialism, 2, 122, 290, 295 Ndiaye, Mohammed Lemine Ould, 52 Non-Governmental Organizations (NGOs), see Civil society Nouakchott, founding of, 20 Oil, 2, 42, 57-58, 60, 85-89, 108, 199, 218, 223 Opinion poll, 2009, 272-273 Ordinance 91-023, 38, 112 Ordinance 017-2006, 111-112 Organization of African Unity (OAU), 85-86 Ottoman Caliphate, 156 Ouled Biri, 19 Ouled Bou Sbaa, 95-96 Ouled Nasser, 50, 52 Pan-Sahel Initiative, see Trans-Sahel Counterterrorism Initiative Paris-Dakar rally, 153, Peace Corps, US, 82 People’s Progressive Alliance (APP), 135, 190, 299 Peul, 10, 139, 144, 301 PKM, see Kadihines PNDD, see National Pact for Democracy and Development Polisario, see Saharan War Porter, Michael E., 141 PPM, see Mauritanian People’s Party PRDS, 40-42, 52, 61, 76, 79, 123, 133-134, 157, 169-170, 301 Presidency, monarchical, 166-167 PUDS, see the United Democratic and Social Party Pulaar, see Peul Qadhafi, Muammar, 7, 143, 232, 237, 251-253, 255, 261, 265, 273 Quadiriya brotherhood, 14

Index 313

Quai d’Orsay, 185, 230 Qutb, Sayyid, 159 Radio France Internationale (RFI), 111 Rally of Democratic Forces (RFD), 139, 194, 206, 225-226, 235, 238, 240, 253, 259-260, 263-264, 267, 271 Razzia, 15, 32 RFD, see Rally of Democratic Forces RFI, see Radio France Internationale Riha, Sidi Ould, 76 Rio de Oro, see Western Sahara Roman Empire, 9 “Rumuz el vessad,” 197, 241 R’Zeizi, Mohamed Ould, 191 Saddam Hussein, 37, 41, 51, 89 Saharan War, 24-27, Sahrawi, 25, 191 Salek, Mustafa Ould, 27, 29 Sarkozy, Nicolas, 220, 230, 258-259, 268 Sarr, Ibrahima Moctar, 139, 226, 269-270, 299 Saudi Arabia, relations with Mauritania, 70, 157 SAWAB party, 138 SEM, see Structures d’Éducation des Masses Senegal, mediation, 261-265 Senegal River, 17, 35 Senegal River Valley, 9-10, 24, 34, 271 Sermain, Romain, 230 Shalom, Sylvan, 57 Sharia, 13, 29, 54, 118, 154, 157 Sheikh Sidiya, Baba Ould, 19 Sidina, Sidi Ould, 154-155 Slavery, 14-15, 17, 21, 24, 29-30, 37, 41-42, 113; cultural-religious hegemony, 15; Haidallah’s abolition decree, 24, 29-30; vestiges, 2, 15-16, 67, 120, 125, 161-162 Smassid tribe, 30, 32, 36, 50, 75-76, 267 SNIM, 22 Soninke, 10, 18, 36, 302 Sons of Chiefs School, 17, 19 Soros, George, 199

SOS Esclaves, 15, 61, 72, 255 Spain, role in 2008-2009 political crisis, 7, 87, 194, 227; immigration policy, 227-229; Western Sahara, 24-25 State General Inspectorate (IGE), 146 Structures d’Éducation des Masses (SEM), 29 Sufism, 13-14 Sûreté Nationale, 59, 66, 68, 94-94, 302 Tah, Sidi Ould, 231 Tajakant tribe, 194 Taqadoumy.com, 203 Tawassoul (National Rally for Reform and Development or RNRD), 157-159, 170, 176, 178, 186, 193, 233, 240, 260, 267, 271, 300, 302 Taya, Maaouya Ould Sid’Ahmed, 1, 3, 5, 23, 30-32, 34, 36-43, 50-59, 61, 66-71, 78-81, 86-87, 89-91, 93-97, 101, 105, 108-109, 111112, 116, 119-121, 133-134, 136142, 144, 147-149, 157, 160, 162, 164, 167, 171-172, 177, 180, 185, 196, 198-202, 204, 218, 228, 233234, 241, 255-257, 260, 262, 267, 269, 275, 281-282, 289, 300, 301, 302; fall, 75-77 Terkez tribe, 75 Territorial Assembly, Mauritanian, 19 Terrorism, see Al Qaida in the Islamic Maghreb; Islamism in Mauritania Tevragh-Zeina, 75, 223 Tijaniya brotherhood, 11, 14 Tin Yedfad, Peace of, 11 Torture, 35, 116, 264; its prevalence 116-119, 125, 260; its role in fomenting terrorism, 119-120 Toucouleur, 10, 18, 301 Touré, Ahmadou Toumany, 80, 9394, 99 Touré, Moustafa, 222 Touré, Sékou, 21 Transition, 2005-2007, 1-3, 6-7, 20, 78-82, 87, 90-91, 94, 100, 105106, 108-110, 176, 195-196, 283,

314

Index

286, 288; concrete gains, 110111, 114-115, 120-125, 131-133, 135-136, 142, 146-147; reforms, 109-110; Trans-Sahel Counter Terrorism Initiative (TSCTI), 43, 57, 82 Treaty of Paris (1814), 17 Traoré, Moussa, 38, 93 Tribalism, 29-30, 39-40, 55, 273, 303 Tribune, La, 50 Tuareg, 93, 112 Turkey, 65; Turkish model of civilmilitary relations, 239 TVM, see Mauritanian Television UFD, see Union of Democratic Forces UFP, see Union of the Forces of Progress United Nations, 113, 185, 201, 217, 225, 232, 251, 257; UN and international peacekeeping operations, 98, 293-294 Underdevelopment, Mauritania’s, 24, 6, 31, 33, 42-43, 58, 60, 110, 144, 156, 161, 164, 166, 193, 198, 221, 254, 273, 281 Union of Democratic Forces (UFD), 23, 40-41, 138-139, 302 Union of the Forces of Progress (UFP), 22, 23, 138-139, 158, 177178, 193, 224, 240, 260, 263, 300, 302 United Democratic and Social Party (PUDS), 137 UPM, see Mauritanian Progressive Union US Agency for International Development (USAID), 82 Vall, Ely Ould Mohamed, 51, 66, 6970, 78-80, 94-97; 2008-2009 political role, 108-109, 11, 266, 269-270, 275-276; 2005-2007 transition maniuplation, 132-135, 140-142, 147 Wade, Abdoulaye, 261-262, 265 Waghef, Yahya Ould Ahmed (El), Walata prison, 27, 34 Wane, Abdoulaye, 144 Washington Consensus, 33, 88 Welzel, Christian, 106-107

Western Sahara, 9, 24-26, 63, 95 White Moors, see Bidan Wolof, 10-11, 18, 36, 302 Women in Mauritanian society, 1213, 109, 136 Woodside Petroleum, 42; scandal, 108 World Bank, 33-34, 58, 215, 218, 231 Yahya, Lehbib Ben, 258 Youth bulge, 177, 295-296 Zawiya, 11-12, 14, 17-19, 28, 302 Zeidane, Zeine Ould, 138, 140, 142, 144-145, 161, 165-168, 170, 175 Zein, Di Ould, 223 Znage, 12

About the Book

Why did a clique of Mauritanian officers risk their lives to overthrow the autocrat they had served for twenty years, only to cede power to an elected civilian? And having won acclaim for their commitment to a process of democratic transition, why did most of these officers join a year later to overthrow the newly elected president? Had the international community been fooled by a military junta—or was it complicit in creating an elaborate pseudo-democratic facade? Drawing on numerous interviews and field research in an Islamic republic wracked by ethnic tensions, terrorism, dire poverty, and the living legacy of slavery, Noel Foster addresses these questions to reveal the complex forces at work in Mauritania’s long struggle for better governance. Noel Foster has lived and worked in Mauritania for several years, most recently as a graduate fellow with Stanford University’s Haas Center for Public Service.

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