From Bullies to Officers and Gentlemen: How Notions of Professionalism and Civility Transformed the Ghana Armed Forces 9781789202953

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FROM BULLIES TO OFFICERS AND GENTLEMEN

From Bullies to Officers and Gentlemen How Notions of Professionalism and Civility Transformed the Ghana Armed Forces

✫✫✫ Humphrey Asamoah Agyekum

berghahn NEW YORK • OXFORD www.berghahnbooks.com

First published in 2019 by Berghahn Books www.berghahnbooks.com

© 2019 Humphrey Asamoah Agyekum

All rights reserved. Except for the quotation of short passages for the purposes of criticism and review, no part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without written permission of the publisher.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data A C.I.P. cataloging record is available from the Library of Congress Library of Congress Cataloging in Publication Control Number: 2019008858

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

ISBN 978-1-78920-294-6 hardback ISBN 978-1-78920-295-3 ebook

✫ CON TEN T S

List of Figures

vi

Acknowledgements

vii

List of Abbreviations

ix

Introduction

1

Chapter 1. The Breakdown of Everydayness

19

Chapter 2. On Hierarchy and Trust: ‘Monkeys Play by Sizes’

43

Chapter 3. On Discipline: Disciplining the Body and the Mind

80

Chapter 4. New Soldiers on the Block: From Buga-Buga Soldier to Disciplined Soldier Subjects

102

Chapter 5. Factors of Continual Subjection

137

Chapter 6. Transformation in Broad Perspective: Professionalism, Civility and Civil–Military Relations

170

Conclusion

209

References

214

Index

227

✫ FIGURES

2.1. Armoured vehicle at the entrance of Recce Regiment

61

5.1. Sovereign’s Parade, Royal Military Academy Sandhurst, August 2013

151

6.1. Unit flag of 64 Infantry Regiment, Gondar Barracks

183

6.2. Billboard advertising civilian friendliness of the Ghana Armed Forces

195

6.3. Advertisement for the Ghana Armed Forces Open Day

197

6.4. School children at the Ghana Armed Forces Open Day

199

6.5. Waiting in line to board an armoured vehicle at the Ghana Armed Forces Open Day

201

✫ ACKN OWLEDGE M E N T S

In the creation of this book, I have met many people who have taken me through the life of a Ghanaian soldier and have taught me important lessons in life in general. These encounters made me indebted to too many to mention every single one here. Firstly, I wish to thank all my informants, both military and civilian, for their time, patience and insights. Secondly, I am extremely grateful to the High Command of the Ghana Armed Forces, the Directorate of Public Relations (DPR), the Directorate of Personnel Administration (DPA) and the Department of Defence Intelligence (DI) for granting me permission to conduct fieldwork with the Ghana Armed Forces. I am especially indebted to the officers, men and civilian employees at DPR for their endless support and kindness whenever I called on them. I also wish to express my most heartfelt gratitude to all the commanders, officers and men at the Ghana Military Academy, Armoured Reconnaissance Regiment, 64 Infantry Regiment, 1 Infantry Battalion, Army Headquarters, Navy Headquarters, Air Force Headquarters, the Air Force Base, Burma Camp and Eastern Naval Command in Tema for their warm reception. The commanding officers, officers and men of 6 Infantry Battalion and 69 Airborne Force in Tamale, need special mention for their exceptionally kind reception, time and patience. I also want to send out a big thank you to all retired officers and men for their precious time; they taught me about military conventions and allowed me to tap into their memories, experiences and insights. Thank you all very much! I wish to thank the commandant, officers, men and the academic staff at the Royal Military Academy Sandhurst for receiving me. Lieutenant Colonel Roy Parkinson (rtd) deserves a special mention for his guidance; Margaret Jones for taking me under her care during my visits; and the academic staff members for allowing me into their classrooms and the archives. At the Department of Anthropology, University of Copenhagen, I am most grateful to Birgitte Refslund Sørensen, for her comments, criticism and encouragement. I am also grateful to Jan-Bart Gewald for his moral support and insightful comments. I thank Henrik Vigh and Morten Axel

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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Pedersen for being there for many discussions. Further, a big thank you to Gary Schaub, Jr. for his generosity and Samuel A. Ntewusu for his friendship. I am also most grateful to Sasakawa Foundation and Fonden Erik Hoffmeyers Rejselegat (of the Danish Central Bank) for generously funding my fieldwork to Ghana that resulted in this book. A very big thank you to my family and everyone else who helped and supported me over the years. Finally, I am most indebted to my love, Alena, for accompanying me to the field, for supporting me throughout this writing process and, most importantly, for taking care of our boy, Miles, the countless hours that I was absent.

✫ ABBREVIATIO N S

1BN – 1 Infantry Battalion 2BN – 2 Infantry Battalion 2iC – Second in Command 3BN – 3 Infantry Battalion 5BN – 5 Infantry Battalion 6BN – 6 Infantry Battalion ABF – Airborne Force ACOTA – Africa Contingency Operations Training and Assistance AFCDR – Armed Forces Committees for the Defence of the Revolution AFDC – Armed Forces Defence Committee AFR – Armed Forces Regulations AFRC – Armed Forces Revolutionary Council ASM – Ghana Military Academy Sergeant Major AWOL – Absent without Leave BNI – Bureau of National Investigations BOD – Base Ordinance Depot CAS – Chief of Air Staff CDD – Centre for Democratic Development CDS – Chief of Defence Staff CNS – Chief of Naval Staff CO – Commanding Officer COAS – Chief of Army Staff CPP – Convention People’s Party CSIPS – Command and Staff Instructions and Procedures CSM – Company Sergeant Major CWO – Chief Warrant Officer

x

ABBREVIATIONS

DAC – Defence Administrative Committee DI – Department of Defence Intelligence DPA – Directorate of Personnel Administration DPR – Directorate of Public Relations DSC – Defence Staff Committee ECOMOG – Economic Community of West African States Monitoring Group ECOWAS – Economic Community of West Africa FCPO – Fleet Chief Petty Officer FRB – Force Reserve Battalion FSM – Force Sergeant Major GAF – Ghana Armed Forces GAFCSC – Ghana Armed Forces Command and Staff College GBC – Ghana Broadcasting Corporation GCC – Gold Coast Constabulary GHANBATT – Ghanaian Battalion GHQ – General Headquarters of the Ghana Armed Forces GIMPA – Ghana Institute of Management and Public Administration GMA – Ghana Military Academy ICTs – Information and Communications Technologies IGP – Inspector General of Police IMF – International Monetary Fund KAIPTC – Kofi Annan International Peacekeeping Training Centre MATS – Ghana Armed Forces Military Academy and Training Schools MDIS – Ministry of Defence Instructions MINUSMA – United Nations Multidimensional Integrated Stabilisation Mission in Mali MWO – Master Warrant Officer NADMO – National Disaster Management Organisation NCO – Non-commissioned Officer NDC – National Democratic Congress NLC – National Liberation Council NPP – New Patriotic Party NRC – National Reconciliation Commission NRC – National Redemption Council

ABBREVIATIONS

xi

NVA – Nationale Volksarmee; National People’s Army of the German Democratic Republic OC – Officer Commanding OCTU – Officer Cadet Training Unit ORs – Other ranks Part I – Part One Orders PDC – Popular Defense Committees PNDC – Provisional National Defence Council PNP – People’s National Party POGR – President’s Own Guard Regiment/ Presidential Guard Regiment PRAAD – Public Records and Archives Administration Department PRO – Public Relations Officer PSCs – Personal Security Commandos PTI – Physical Training Instructor Recce – Armoured Reconnaissance Regiment RMAS – Royal Military Academy Sandhurst RP – Regimental Provost RSM – Regimental Sergeant Major RWAFF – Royal West African Frontier Force SMC I/II – Supreme Military Council I/II SNCO – Senior Non-commissioned Officer SS’74 – Super Stars ’74 SSM – Squadron Sergeant Major SWO – Senior Warrant Officer UN – United Nations UNIFIL – United Nations Interim Force in Lebanon UNIGOV – Union Government UNMIL – United Nations Mission in Liberia UNMISS – United Nations Mission in the Republic of South Sudan UNOCI – United Nations Operation in Côte d’Ivoire UNOMSIL – United Nations Observer Mission to Sierra Leone WASSA – West African Soldiers Social Activity WDC – Workers Defense Committees WO I/II – Warrant Officer Class I/II

✫ INTRODUCTIO N

ecently, international media organizations have reported the resurgence of coups in West Africa. On 23 December 2008, Captain Moussa Dadis Camara seized power in Guinea after the death of long-time ruler Lansana Conté. In Mali, Captain Amoudou Sanogo orchestrated a coup on 21 March 2012, which some have claimed triggered the ongoing security crisis and Islamic insurgency in that country (Bøås and Torheim 2013). Guinea-Bissau was the scene of a mutiny before the second round of the Presidential elections between April and May 2012. And in Burkina Faso, former aide to President Blaise Compaoré, and commander of the Regiment of Presidential Security, General Gilbert Diendéré, led a coup on 12 September 2015. A coup, according to McGowan, is ‘a change in power from the top that always results in the abrupt replacement of leading government personnel, but may or may not alter a state’s fundamental social and economic policies or entail a significant redistribution of power among political groups’ (2003: 342). Between January 1956 and December 2001, McGowan indicates, a total of eighty successful coups, 108 attempts and 139 reported coup plots have taken place in sub-Saharan countries (2003: 339). Especially, the West African region has been coup prone, as its sixteen nations account for ‘85 failed and successful coups out of 188 (45.2%)’ (ibid.). Moreover, ‘all of the 16 states in this region, apart from Senegal, have experienced from one to six (Benin, Burkina Faso, Nigeria) successful coups and all have had at least one failed coup attempt’ (ibid.). Ghana, like its West African counterparts, has had its fair share of well-documented interventions in 1966, 1972, 1978, 1979 and 1981 (Welch 1967, 1972; Feit 1968; Decalo 1973; Baynham 1978a, 1978b, 1984, 1985a, 1985b; Hansen and Collins 1980; Hettne 1980; Oquaye 1980, 2004; Rothchild 1980; Kraus 1983; McGowan and Johnson 1984; Gutteridge 1985; Owusu 1986, 1989; Agyeman-Duah 1987, 2002; Ninsin 1987; Pobee 1987; Teye 1988; Killingray 1991; Petchenkine 1993; Clark 1994; Luckham 1994; Nugent 1995; Hutchful 1997a, 1997b; McGowan 2003). Yet, in contrast to other West African armed forces, the Ghana

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FROM BULLIES TO OFFICERS AND GENTLEMEN

Armed Forces have evolved from an institution responsible for societal unrest and numerous revolts to an organization that adheres to the democratic rules of their country. Reading the transformation process of the Ghana Armed Forces against the background of Ghana’s history of coups, I understand transformation as a deliberate attempt by the military establishment to move away from past actions of the armed forces as repeated coup makers into a new, open-ended path towards a projected improvement of, among others, the military institution’s organizational structures and human interactions. To treat questions surrounding how the Ghanaian military have managed to steer away from military interventions, the book presents an ethnographic investigation into the everyday practices of soldiering in the Ghanaian barracks. The ethnography departs from the ‘critical events’ (Das 1995) that triggered the breakdown of military order ‘everydayness’ (De Certeau 1984) in the barracks at the beginning of the 1980s, through to measures initiated to restore military order and instigate the ongoing transformation process of the armed forces. The transformation process of the Ghanaian military, I argue throughout this book, has been shaped by institutional measures aimed at resuscitating the military order and discipline through the creation of the disciplined soldier subject. This process continues to be reinforced through appeals to soldiers’ soldierly values and sense of ‘doing the right thing’.

Background: Military Interventions in Ghana (1966–1981) Ghana experienced its first coup on 24 February 1966 when the National Liberation Council (NLC) overthrew Ghana’s first post-independence President Dr Kwame Nkrumah (Kraus 1970: 154). The 1966 coup was orchestrated predominantly by officers trained at the Royal Military Academy Sandhurst, leading scholars to label the coup makers ‘Sandhurst-minded’ (Austin 1985: 91), ‘elitist and Western-oriented’ officers infested with ‘the Sandhurst syndrome’ (Hettne 1980: 178). These soldiers, among others, vehemently disagreed with Nkrumah’s pan-Africanist political agenda. The second military intervention happened on 13 February 1972. The coup led by then Colonel I.K. Acheampong, in collaboration with middleranking officers, successfully and without bloodshed toppled the civilian government of Dr Kofi Busia. Acheampong installed the National Redemption Council/Supreme Military Council (NRC/SMC I) (Baynham 1984, 1985a). Unlike the coup of 1966, Acheampong’s personal military career ambitions combined with the military’s dented corporate interests con-

INTRODUCTION

3

verged to make this intervention possible because Busia’s government had cut the military’s budget and soldiers’ amenities (Baynham 1985a: 624). The NRC/SMC I ruled Ghana between 1972 and 1978 (ibid.). Under the NRC/SMC I, Ghana’s economy hit rock bottom, which was characterized by shortages of consumer goods, high inflation and low wages (Welch 1983: 543; Baynham 1985a: 634). Because the Ghanaian military backed the NRC/SMC I, the economic hardship was partly blamed on the armed forces, thus manoeuvring them into an undesirable position (ibid.). The economic dire circumstances were coupled with a proposed referendum for the Union Government (Unigov, ‘a vague scheme of limited disengagement in which both military and civilian bodies would be represented in a no-party corporate polity’ (Baynham 1985a: 634)) at the end of March 1978 by the military regime (Austin 1985: 93). This presented the leadership of the Ghanaian military with the perfect ‘opportunity to intervene’ (Finer 1962: 71) amid accusations that the ‘Yes’ vote in favour of Acheampong’s proposed Unigov was rigged (Austin 1985: 93). On 5 July 1978, Ghana experienced its third coup, which marked the end of Acheampong’s rule (Welch 1983: 546). After the bloodless palace coup, Lieutenant General Frederick Akuffo, head of the Ghana Armed Forces and Acheampong’s deputy, established the Supreme Military Council II (SMC II) (ibid.). General Akuffo promised to hand over power to a popularly elected government and ordered the drafting of the constitution of the Third Republic (Welch 1983). Under the military leadership, political parties were allowed to congregate again; however, the new government ‘failed to calm the opponents’ (Hettne 1980: 184). Akuffo’s rule was ‘one of continuous concessions to all kinds of lobbying, and the prestige of the military suffered accordingly’ (ibid.). Due to the preceding coups, economic hardship in Ghana and compromises made with various societal groups, the military’s prestige had been soiled (ibid.). Furthermore, ‘public opinion had been outraged by the S.M.C.’s continued practice of shielding retired military colleagues widely suspected of corruption, while hackles were raised over plans to constitutionally indemnify both S.M.C.s from future prosecution’ (Baynham 1985a: 634). The preceding converged to set the stage for the next military intervention. In the early hours of 4 June 1979, a few weeks from scheduled elections, Ghana experienced its fourth military intervention. General Akuffo was disposed in a joint venture coup of junior officers and non-commissioned officers (NCOs) in the so-called ‘revolution from below’ led by Flight Lieutenant Jerry John Rawlings (Hettne 1980; Welch 1983; Austin 1985; Baynham 1985a). The ensuing Armed Forces Revolutionary Council

4

FROM BULLIES TO OFFICERS AND GENTLEMEN

(AFRC) embarked almost immediately on a violent ‘housecleaning exercise’ (Welch 1983: 546). Between 16 June and 26 June 1979, top military officers, including three former Heads of State (Generals Afrifa, Acheampong and Akuffo), were executed (Baynham 1985a: 634). The housecleaning exercise continued with ‘dismissals of senior public servants, seizures and forfeitures of assets, heavy prison sentences following summary trials, the demolishing of houses and markets, public whippings and widespread intimidation of citizens by unauthorised military personnel’ (ibid.). Meanwhile, the elections scheduled by SMC II for 18 June 1979, the first in a decade, went ahead as planned (Baynham 1985a). Hettne notes that it is perhaps a unique historical occurrence that the ‘AFRC seized control from a military regime and handed it over to a civilian government’ (1980: 184). Eventually, the AFRC’s rule was short and violent, ‘but the unparalleled bloodletting rudely alerted the civilian population to the dreadful side of the military’ (Agyeman-Duah 2002: 5). Despite the violence and bloodletting, on 24 September 1979, the military returned to the barracks. Ghana’s Third Republic was inaugurated with the handing over of power to the People’s National Party (PNP) of Dr Hilla Limann (Hettne 1980: 184). However, the handover was short-lived, as on 31 December 1981, Flight Lieutenant Rawlings and his cohorts intervened once again in domestic politics (Nugent 1995; Oquaye 2004). With the benefit of hindsight, ‘the hapless two years of Limann’s government . . . were simply an interlude between the hesitation of an army not yet sure of its beliefs and the full-blooded conviction of Rawlings’ second seizure of power’ (Austin 1985: 95). When Limann’s PNP was ousted, Rawlings installed the Provisional National Defence Council (PNDC). Finer (1962: 4) notes that under military rule, usually some ‘quasi-civilian façade is fabricated’. The PNDC adopted a similar strategy as ‘the outlook of the PNDC was less military and the regime insisted that it was a “people’s government”’ (AgyemanDuah 2002: 6). Unlike previous Ghanaian military regimes, the majority of the Council members and ministers of state were civilians, with very few soldiers manning public institutions (ibid.), but many Ghanaians regarded these measures as ‘mere window dressing: the guns still ruled’ (ibid.). The civilian population not only feared the guns but also the brutal treatment of military personnel, which eventually led to a ‘culture of silence’ (ibid.: 7) in which ‘the civilian population retreated from public and political activities’ (ibid.). This silence and the population’s indifference to all activities political, among other issues, eventually forced the PNDC regime, after more than a decade in power, to organize popular elections (ibid.), thus effectively ending military rule in Ghana.

INTRODUCTION

5

Location and Contribution to the Field While academic endeavours examining the place and role of the armed forces in society have been commonplace in the Global North (Lasswell 1941; Huntington 1957; Janowitz 1960), studies featuring African militaries are fairly limited. Further, Western militaries, especially those of the United Kingdom and the United States of America, have attracted considerable (media and) academic attention because of the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan but also due to their effects on soldiers and their families and on society, with soldiers returning from the battlefield with mental health issues such as post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), anxiety disorders and depression (Kilshaw 2009; Messinger 2010). Despite the general interest in the Global North for studying military institutions, anthropologists have been relatively reluctant in studying the armed forces. That is because anthropologists generally considered the military as perpetrators of violence; at the same time, anthropological studies tend to focus on the victim’s perspective (Ben-Ari and Frühstück 2003: 541). Despite the hesitation, anthropological studies of the military are steadily on the rise (Lutz 2001; Huebner 2008; MacLeish 2013). Although the ethnographic examination of militaries and soldiering in anthropology is increasing, none deal with African soldiers and armed forces, leaving the everydayness of soldierly work completely understudied. Studies on African militaries have been through two phases. From the 1960s onwards, scholars of African militaries investigated colonial armed bodies and the new armed forces of post-independence African states (Welch 1967; Feit 1968; Gutteridge 1969; First 1970; Kraus 1970; Decalo 1973; Hettne 1980; Ravenhill 1980; Baynham 1985a, 1985b). Coups marked the grand entrance of African militaries onto the political scene, beginning with, for example, the military intervention of the Free Officers’ Movement in Egypt in July 1952 that overthrew the monarchy (First 1970: 4). This was followed by General Abboud’s power seizure six years later in Sudan, in November 1958; and – in sub-Saharan Africa – General Mobutu’s temporal intervention in Congo in 1960 (ibid.). Scholars were drawn to coups because ‘Africa was becoming another Latin America, where political instability has long been chronic’ (ibid.: 3). Additionally, ‘the coup as a phenomenon attracts attention as a dramatic event and seems capable of national explanation resulting from a convergence of different kinds and levels of discontent, including harsh budgets and reduction in army pay and allowances’ (Gutteridge 1985: 79). A second stream of scholarship featuring African militaries, from the 1990s through to the early 2000s, was the result of the fall of communism and ‘the wave of competitive multiparty elections’ (Bratton 1998) that

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FROM BULLIES TO OFFICERS AND GENTLEMEN

swept across Africa causing various repressive regimes to crumble and leaving several African militaries embroiled in conflict and civil war (Howe 2001). As a result, many recent studies that feature African militaries tend to focus mainly on non-state actors, such as rebels and insurgents (Clapham 1998; Richards 2005). Therefore, our knowledge of professional African militaries and understanding of the lived experiences of African soldiers in these armed institutions are limited. This endeavour aims to broaden our knowledge and understanding of African military institutions by offering thick ethnographic descriptions of everyday practices of soldiering in an African context; a look from within the Ghanaian barracks. Most studies on African militaries have generally focused on political or institutional developments, such as intrusion into politics, civil–military relations or civilian control of the armed forces (Huntington 1957; Janowitz 1960) but omitted the human element – i.e. the experiences of soldiers. Similarly, transformations, such as the reform of security institutions, are commonly examined at the bureaucratic and institutional level and in instrumental settings exhibited in numerous studies on security sector reforms (Ball and Hendrickson 2006). Crucially, however, examination of the reform of security institutions requires accounting for the human experience of change. That is because humans undergo change processes and execute transformations. Moreover, humans are not only affected by change but interpret and respond to the new constellations in their everyday activities, and they crucially do so in dynamic interaction with other human beings. The integration of humans into the change processes thus determines the level of success of that project (Baiburin, Kelly and Vakhtin 2012). The ethnographic approach of the book illuminates the institutional and human aspects of the transformation process, respectively. Particularly, the everyday practices of soldiering in Ghana, which have yet to be featured in the literature on African militaries, are presented as extremely meaningful for the soldier’s subjectivity and, hence, the workings of hierarchical relations, and vice versa. Social considerations of military transformation processes further relate to the question of how public perceptions of the military can be altered. Public image has always been of interest to armed forces around the world. However, modern militaries across the globe are increasingly conscious of the value of favourable public perception of their institution, due to mass communication and social media (Huebner 2008; McCartney 2011). Moreover, the armed forces are also aware that their actions and behaviour could affect how the general public perceives their organization (ibid.). That is why engineering a favourable public perception

INTRODUCTION

7

is an important element in the transformation process in the Ghanaian barracks. While the general public perception of the North Atlantic soldier is generally positive, his African counterpart cannot count on such favourable reviews. From the late 1940s to the late 1970s, Huebner (2008: 2) notes that American soldiers were portrayed as ‘warriors’ or considered ‘martial’ (ibid.: 9), and the popular image of the British soldier was that of a ‘victim’ (McCartney 2011: 43). In juxtaposition to this imagined EuroAmerican (and Australian) ideal of professionalism, based on training regime standards and educational institutions of the Royal Military Academy Sandhurst in the United Kingdom and St. Cyr in France (First 1970), militaries outside the Global North generally are portrayed as disorderly, violent and unprofessional. Interestingly enough, the Ghanaian military is a carbon copy of the British army, since the Ghana Armed Forces have their roots in the Royal West African Frontier Force (RWAFF) (Gutteridge 1966; Aboagye 1999; Addae 2005), and the training regimes of both the officer corps and other ranks are based on the British training methods. Moreover, due to colonialism and post-independence British influence, Ghanaian soldiers embrace and implement international professionalism standards; especially the British professional standards. Military institutions, for instance, in Latin America in the 1960s and 1970s were labelled ‘antipolitics’ (Loveman and Davies 1978: 3), due to their frequent military interventions and support of dictatorships. Similarly, numerous negative characterizations persist of African soldiers and militaries. Howe (2001: 38), for example, has labelled African soldiers ‘unprofessional’, ‘irrelevant’, ‘dangerous’ and referred to them as ‘armed thugs’ and ‘hit squads’ in Zimbabwe and Kenya, respectively. Particularly, the orchestration and execution of coups in the post-colonial era has contributed to the poor ‘cultural representations of African militaries and their soldiers’ (Welch 1986: 324). Soldiers, as a result of human rights violations perpetrated against civilians, were thus considered uncouth, brutes, killers and bullies (Finer 1962: 7); or ‘simple illiterates who are unfit for social intercourse with civilians’ (Baynham 1994: 17). The Ghanaian military also suffered from poor public image; dating back to the days of the RWAFF (Gutteridge 1966; Aboagye 1999; Addae 2005). Baynham (1994: 17) notes that the majority of the infantry soldiers in the colonial army were recruited from the lowest socio-economic strata. Socially, these men were not highly regarded by the general civilian population and were feared for their ruthlessness, as the British colonizers deployed them for internal security assignments (ibid.). Colonial soldiers apparently had no problems repressing their own people while serving a foreign military body (ibid.). In garrison towns, moreover, co-

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FROM BULLIES TO OFFICERS AND GENTLEMEN

lonial soldiers reportedly assaulted civilians and harassed and molested women (ibid.). All these factors converged, resulting in the poor public image of the Gold Coast colonial soldier, who passed this inheritance on to his successor, the Ghanaian soldier. Additionally, the post-independence Ghanaian soldiers also contributed to the poor public perception of their institution through their repeated orchestration of coups and associated human rights abuses (Oquaye 1980, 2004; Nugent 1995). Some military operatives used their uniform to extract scarce resources from the civilian population, while occasionally functioning as debt collectors for others, especially in the 1980s (Nugent 1995: 86). The illegal activities regularly resulted in violent confrontations between soldiers and civilians, thus exacerbating an already deteriorating condition. The Ghanaian military has, in the current constellation, vested interest in generating a favourable public imagination for securing their corporate interests, such as better payment, good living conditions and modern military equipment. In this book, I present ethnographic descriptions of measures and activities the Ghana Armed Forces have undertaken to engineer positive public reviews. Additionally, in this endeavour, I deconstruct the notion that African militaries, and the Ghana Armed Forces in particular, are disorderly (Decalo 1973, 1989). The contemporary public image of African soldiers is gradually changing as a result of, among other things, their contribution to and participation in peacekeeping missions, which generate the perception of ‘peace soldiers’ (Moskos 1976; Cunliffe 2013). This ties in with the notion of the ‘new soldier’ (Sarkar 2009), who ‘exercises restraint and caution in combat and has the capability to empathise with the needs of the local population’ (Hughes 2014: 239). Moreover, Ghanaian soldiers are part of a global military arena in which these notions are the norm. Furthermore, I deploy the concepts of military diffusion (Goldman 2006; Horowitz 2010) and military emulation (Farrell and Terriff 2002; Resende-Santos 2007) to assess the transformation process in the Ghanaian barracks. Military diffusion is a ‘process of transmission of new information, the decision by elites to adopt new technologies, ideas and practices; and ultimately the assimilation of these ideas into institutions and practices’ (Goldman 2006: 69). In the Ghanaian context, the military system is injected with potentially transformative ideas, new technologies and practices imported from elsewhere in the international military arena. Military emulation, on the other hand, is ‘the deliberate imitation by one state of any aspect of another state’s military system that bears upon its own military system’ (Resende-Santos 2007: 9). In other words, it is a conscious effort undertaken by a military to copy and implement

INTRODUCTION

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best practices from other armed forces. Transformations are generally viewed as finished products or end states. My argument, however, is that because transformation processes involve humans but also, in the Ghanaian case, military diffusion and military emulation, it is still ongoing, because the aim of transformation is necessarily ambiguous – never static but ever evolving in time and sociopolitical contexts. Apart from military educational institutions, the exposure of key actors to international security discourses, peacekeeping missions and international training courses has contributed to altering the perceptions and viewpoints of Ghanaian soldiers. These so-called ‘boundary crossers’ (Gupta and Ferguson 1997) provide translations of norms of security governance and international human rights discourses from the international arenas into the particular context of the Ghana Armed Forces, where they function as ‘multipliers’ (Behrends, Park and Rottenburg 2014) in shaping the perceptions of their colleagues and subordinates. Finally, societal processes, such as the increased level of education and the spread of information and communications technologies (ICTs) (De Bruijn and Van Dijk 2012), have had their bearing on the Ghanaian military institution as the armed forces aim to engineer its public image through the reintroduction of professionalism into the rank and file and the initiation of civilizing activities or civility, such as public relations, disaster relief and medical outreach programmes. Moreover, Ghana is currently considered a stable, democratic country by its international partners, such as United Kingdom, which after the December 2010 elections expressed through its Foreign Office Minister that Ghana is ‘rightly considered the beacon of democracy in the region’.1 The transformation process was also partly triggered because ‘coups are no longer done because the international community will descend on you like flies on shit’,2 while other sociopolitical factors have contributed to the Ghanaian military shying away from coups. The manifold reasons for this development will be illuminated in the course of the book.

Negotiating Access to the ‘Closed World’ of the Military Many studies featuring African militaries barely feature African soldiers. That is partly due to widespread perceptions in recent years of African military institutions as secretive or repressive institutions. These views not only make working with these organizations challenging; but also deter scholars from engaging with these armed forces, resulting in a scholarship drought. However, the book departs from the question of whether there has been a change in attitude and perceptions of Ghanaian soldiers

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FROM BULLIES TO OFFICERS AND GENTLEMEN

about coups but also considers the drivers or limiting factors of these changes for entrance into the Ghanaian military barracks. Additionally, to write an ethnography of transformation in the Ghanaian military barracks and of how this process is experienced in the everyday practices of the Ghanaian soldier requires robust access to the barracks. Due to persistent social perceptions of African militaries, including Ghanaian, as repressive organizations – institutions that are sealed off from the outside world – feeding into the assumption that African armed forces are unapproachable. These views are further strengthened by visible security measures, such as high walls, barbwire gates and sentries manned by armed men, surrounding African military barracks. The environs of the Ghanaian military are no different. The Ghanaian military barracks are securitized environments fenced off from the outside by a variety of physical obstacles, ranging from swamp land and impenetrable bushes to entrances with sentries. Visitors must enter the barracks through one of the entrances, where one is interrogated and, occasionally, searched by soldiers on duty. Inside the barracks, cameras in key areas monitor the environment and movements. Additionally, visitors of the administrative offices have to fill in a visitor’s book in which the purpose and addressee of the visit are stated. After signing in, the visitor must hand in an identification card in exchange for a visitor’s card in order to proceed. These technologies and infrastructures characterized the ‘bounded setting’ (Candea 2007: 167) in which military anthropology is carried out. Okely (1992: 2) notes that fieldwork is a social experience in which the fieldworker indulges in relationships with others. Personal relations serve as the main tool for collecting data and gaining insights into the everyday practices of being a soldier (Amit 2000: 2) but also to absorb their narratives (Rapport 2000). Access to the barracks and being part of the daily activities of soldiers therefore is crucial. In view of this, studying the ‘closed world’ (Wulff 2000: 148) of the military entails dependency on that world’s generosity towards the fieldworker, granting access to otherwise inaccessible places. Similarly, Berrenberg (2009: 220) notes that during fieldwork the ethnographer is at the mercy of those studied. Others, rather than the fieldworker, ‘take centre stage and direct the course of events’ (ibid.). Fieldwork means that the ethnographer must adjust to the terms and conditions set by others; in this case, the Ghana Armed Forces, gatekeeper of my participation in social activities, observation of life in the barracks and interactions between soldiers. Moreover, an institution bent on transforming its public image can also not afford to completely seal itself off from the outside world. There-

INTRODUCTION

11

fore, the Ghana Armed Forces’ public relations department, the Directorate of Public Relations (DPR), provided me with access to the barracks to conduct fieldwork at a variety of locations, regiments and battalions in North and South Ghana. From December 2013 through to January 2015, I was allowed to interact, converse and participate in daily life at the barracks – that is, observe and record the voices of Ghanaian soldiers’ lived experiences and memories without any limitations. The book fills a gap in the amount of African soldiers’ voices in the literature on African militaries by presenting an ethnography of the Ghanaian barracks from soldiers’ perspectives and in their own voices. Although, the main barracks of the Ghanaian military is Burma Camp, in Accra, the Ghana Armed Forces have battalions spread across the country. The units in my data sample were selected based on geography, following the North-South divide of the Ghanaian military institution (i.e. the Northern and Southern Commands).3 Although my approach to gaining access to the field was ‘top-down’, this did not mean that I conducted my fieldwork in that manner. In fact, I mainly studied the bottom. The subsequent sections illustrate my approach to the field sites.

Encountering and Navigating the Field Despite permission to conduct fieldwork with the Ghana Armed Forces, my initial encounters in the field were rough, as gatekeepers on sentry proved obstacles to be negotiated. In addition, distrust on the part of some military operatives who are not used to having civilians in their units made the beginning of the endeavour strenuous. Sometimes the unit adjutant who usually was to inform the officers and men of my arrival forgot to pass on this information, leading to irritation. On several occasions, I had to call upon my liaison officer to renegotiate my access to a unit. The following vignette illustrates the need to carefully navigate the field of the Ghanaian barracks. The Ghana Military Academy (GMA) is part of the Ghana Military Academy and Training School (MATS), located at Whistler Barracks, Teshie; a suburb of Ghana’s capital Accra. I arrive at seven o’clock in the morning at the entrance of MATS. The soldier on sentry strolls slowly away from the guardroom and moves towards me while all along looking for and maintaining eye contact with me. He is wearing his G3-rifle around his neck; his finger is close to the trigger. The rifle is pointed to the ground. In the background, the Atlantic Ocean waves splash against the cliffs and rocks. The soldier and I meet exactly at the gate. He inspects me

12

FROM BULLIES TO OFFICERS AND GENTLEMEN

from head to toe. I realize I am a bit uncomfortable, but I manage to mumble a weak, ‘Good morning, sir’ to him. The soldier, a young man in his early twenties, is well dressed in ironed, dark green camouflage military uniform. He has a shiny, shaven head, which he hides under his cap. He responds to my mumble with a firm, ‘Good morning!’ He requests to know my name and what my purpose for visiting MATS is. I explain that I have been given permission to conduct fieldwork with his unit. He requests to see the letter confirming my story. He examines the letter and seems satisfied. Then he continues: The soldier: ‘Sir, may I know your mission?’ HAA: ‘Yes, of course! I am here to see the Commandant of the GMA.’ The soldier: ‘But sir, why? Any problem?’ HAA: ‘No, no. My letter from Directorate of Public Relations [DPR] and GHQ [General Headquarters] says I should see the Commandant of GMA. This is why.’ The soldier: ‘Oh, ok. Sir, may I see your letters again?’

I open my bag and hand the letters to the soldier. He examines the letters closely once more and hands them back to me. He asks another soldier in front of the guardroom to inform the adjutant of GMA that someone is on his way to see the commandant. The soldier asks me whether I know the way to the commandant’s office. The soldier: ‘Sir, but it is far from here. It is quite a walking distance.’ HAA: ‘No problem. I am young and fit.’ I joke.

The soldier smiles meekly and proceeds to instruct me how to get there. I thank him and continue my journey. After the soldier’s timid smile, I feel relief that I have managed to convince him to let me pass. I have negotiated the first hurdle and secured my first steps into the field site. Although I was aware that he could not have completely disallowed me entrance into the barracks due to my official permission, I knew that he could have delayed my entrance. Whistler Barracks is a huge military facility, with acres and acres of land around it. After taking the first hurdle, I follow the tarred road that meanders through the barracks. After walking about 500 metres from the first sentry, I realize I am quickly approaching a second sentry but not before I make my way around heaps of sandbags piled on the road. There is a booth in front of the guardroom, just next to the road. As I approach, a neatly dressed Private Soldier with a shawl of the unit colours (white and red) around his neck appears from the small booth. He steps forward and bangs with his left foot firmly on the ground making a deafening sound.

INTRODUCTION

13

He holds his rifle with stretched arms in front of him, then pulls it back to his left side, places the weapon tightly next to his body and salutes firmly with his right hand. The role of the soldier at the sentry is strictly ceremonial (I gather later). He does not stop me or interrogate me. As I walk past him, a soldier appears from the guardroom. This soldier is older than the ones at the sentries. He is a Sergeant. The following encounter ensues: The Sergeant: ‘Excuse me! Are you looking for someone or something?’

He inspects me from head to toe while maintaining eye contact with me. HAA: ‘Yes. The Commandant’s office.’ The Sergeant: ‘Which of them? There are two of them here!’ HAA: ‘Oh, yeah? The one – of the GMA.’ I mumble. The Sergeant: ‘The GMA is behind the tower over there,’ he tells me briskly. ‘You will see green and white colours in the surroundings. That is the place.’

He directs me to walk straight ahead and stands to ensure I am following the instructions he has given me. As I walk towards the administration building of the GMA, a group of soldiers arranged in rows of four, totalling about forty, dressed in combat uniform, marching and singing, come towards me. I do not want to draw attention to myself so I avoid looking at them and walk on swiftly. After walking approximately 600 metres from the second sentry, I arrive at the administration block of the GMA. The raised white and green flag in front of the administration block dances in the cool breeze. The green grass around this block is neatly cut, and the hedges are precisely trimmed. The administration block is bustling with military operatives. I ask an officer for directions to the commandant’s office. He unknowingly gives me my first lesson in military etiquette. He alerts me that it is not permitted to go directly to see the commandant. First, I have to report to the adjutant.4 He walks me to the adjutant’s office. The female officer is aware of my arrival; she listens to me and then requests to see my permission letter. Later on that morning, she introduces me to the commandant. The acting commandant, a Colonel, invites me into his office and enquires about the study and its objectives but also what kind of assistance I require from his outfit. After our interaction, he informs me that he will make arrangements with his staff to accommodate me. In addition, he will appoint a contact person at the GMA, but he will need time to make these arrangements and asks me to return in three days. The above vignettes illustrate that, despite the permission granted me by the Ghana Armed Forces, at the entrances to the various military in-

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FROM BULLIES TO OFFICERS AND GENTLEMEN

stallations I was initially met with suspicion by the soldiers at these entry points as is expected of them. However, this usually happened when I first reported to a unit. Usually, after the unit had been informed at durbars and with a publication in the Part I Orders, soldiers were aware of my arrival and after a few days forgot that I was an outsider because I come to ‘work’ – that is, report for duty at 07:30 with them and leave with them. Moreover, as time went on, I became ‘known’ in the various barracks, which contributed to reducing negotiations at the sentries. The excerpt also reveals how my unawareness of the barracks conventions made it easy for soldiers to spot me; the outsider. My out-of-placeness meant I was constantly questioned about my being in the barracks, forcing me to justify my intentions for being there. However, once I gained access to the unit, soldiers were willing to ‘help’, and some were curious, while others had stories to tell. Moreover, soldiers were more than willing to talk about soldiering, so once I had proven that I had robust permission from the military leadership, they were willing to engage. Investing in and building long-term relations were the key to gaining the trust of soldiers and accessing the barracks on a social level.

Narratives and Problems of Documentation Bickford (2011: 31) notes that ‘anthropology allows us to examine lived experience of soldiers.’ Although the main method for data gathering in the barracks was participant observation, I was able to also absorb soldiers’ narratives of their experiences in the military. Narratives, Rapport points out, ‘are the primary embodiment of how people understand and experience the world, but also how people understand themselves’ (2000: 75). Since my aim is to understand soldiers’ lived experiences ‘in their own words’, I had to get their stories and narratives. To extract narratives, open-ended interviews (Weller 1998) but also informal conversation techniques (Herskovits 1950; Forsey 2010) were used, as I realized quite early in my fieldwork that my interlocutors were uncomfortable and were not speaking frankly with me whenever I approached with pen and paper or a tape recorder. This was evident from the shallow analysis, narratives and views my informants produced. I observed that my informants associated these devices with ‘official’ meaning. In other words, they believed that their exact words could be officially traced and verified if I were to lose the shared information, which could spell trouble for them. In short, I had to explore and adapt different strategies to get my informants to be at ease around me and to interact frankly with me. Following my introduction to the soldiers by the chief clerk, the Regimental Sergeant Major (RSM), the adjutant, the second in command (2iC)

INTRODUCTION

15

or the commanding officer (CO) of a unit to their personnel, this usually allowed me to have countless informal conversations, without pen and paper or recording device, with soldiers while hanging out around the unit, sitting under sheds and trees, on porches, or in offices. In these contexts, soldiers were more comfortable in talking about their lives, their work and their experiences in peacekeeping operations but also about ‘tricky’ or ‘sensitive’ topics like past coups. Without recording devices, my informants seemed at ease as they narrated and answered all my questions without reservation. It must, however, be noted that immediately after these (informal) conversations, I looked for a quiet spot to record what had just been shared with me. I also wrote down interviews or used a voice recorder for official interviews; for example, with the military’s public relations officers. During my field study, I conducted 134 interviews and over 200 informal conversations, out of which twenty were recorded with an audio device. In addition, I held six focus group discussions, which were also recorded with an audio device.

Recruitment of Informants Part of the challenge of the fieldwork experience is the recruitment of informants and gaining their trust. How did I go about these issues? After a few weeks hanging around the units, I knew the routines of unit life. For instance, Mondays were very busy for soldiers, as they had to attend all sorts of security-related briefings and meetings, which thus made making arrangements on this day a challenge. On other days, soldiers were more flexible, generous and forthcoming with their time. For interviews and informal conversations at the units, I randomly walked up to soldiers, introduced myself, explained my project and its objectives and then solicited their assistance. Soldiers also recommended me to their colleagues, pleading with them to help me in any way they could. For the focus group discussions, the RSMs and base coxswain selected (more or less ordered) soldiers for the occasions, leading to careful deliberations between soldiers. Although I randomly selected my informants, all social groups and ranks (Private Soldiers to Generals) are represented in the body of data generated. An inevitable problem with conducting fieldwork with the military is soldiers’ immense flexibility and mobility. Amit (2000: 12) notes that absences and presences are part and parcel of the ethnographic field experience. My informants were regularly deployed on peacekeeping missions, sent on courses or were posted elsewhere on a new assignment. The soldiers’ departure was also an opportunity to gain (potential) new insights and views from (potential) new informants. The ebb and flow of peo-

16

FROM BULLIES TO OFFICERS AND GENTLEMEN

ple requires extreme flexibility and adaptability from the ethnographer, especially when soldiers returning from missions or courses are hostile (because they are not used to having a civilian around) to the fieldworker. Simultaneously, absences and presences are also marked by the fieldworker moving to new localities (every two to three months) due to the ‘multi-locale’ (Marcus and Fischer 1986), where a new group of soldiers had to grow accustomed to my presence.

Structure of the Book This ethnography-informed book explores how armed forces, such as the Ghanaian military, are transformed after a breakdown of everydayness, from institutions responsible for societal unrest to stable social actors. Despite the coups and engagement with political activities, how and to what extent has the Ghanaian military managed to steer away from these practices? Which factors and conditions have contributed to this transformation? What roles do the military’s human-centred approach (human face philosophy), ‘civility’ and ‘professionalism’ play in the ongoing transformation process? Equally important is how Ghanaian military operatives experience developments in their institution. What are their perspectives on soldiering, their role in society and professionalism? To tackle these questions, the book flows along two interrelated lines: the first part sketches the events and conditions leading to violence and the collapse of military order; in short, the critical events (Das 1995) necessitating and triggering the transformation process. The second part examines the implications of the ongoing developments in the barracks geared towards reinstalling everydayness, soldiers’ perceptions thereof, but also how these relate to broader societal developments and, finally, assess how professionalism, civility and civil–military relations relate to each other in broader military and societal context; in short, the current state of affairs in the Ghanaian military. To assess the questions charted above, Chapter 1 of the book takes off presenting the critical events (Das 1995) that contributed to the breakdown of everydayness, undermining hierarchy and discipline in the Ghanaian barracks of the early 1980s. Critical events triggered responses from military and political actors but also measures targeting interactions between the barracks and the outside world, thus marking the beginning of the transformation process in the Ghanaian barracks. Hierarchy and trust are important tropes in the military barracks and crucial for the experience of soldiers’ everydayness. Chapter 2 examines

INTRODUCTION

17

the temporary collapse of everydayness as a result of poor communications and toxic professional relations in the Ghanaian barracks. The aim of the chapter is to generate an appreciation for how the military is ordered and maintained as a social organization. More specifically, the chapter looks at hierarchy from the point of view of values and differentiation (Dumont 1970 [1966]) and clarifies how such differentiation is practised and habituated, as well as how it is materialized in distinctions between and on uniforms. The second part of this chapter ties the notion of hierarchy to the concept of trust, which produces predictability in behaviour, but also category-based trust and ultimately everydayness. Chapter 3 features discipline in the guises of self- and imposed discipline. Due to the breakdown of everydayness, the disciplinary standard the Ghanaian military aspires to was severely lacking in the barracks. The chapter zooms in on how the military works to discipline the minds and bodies of its personnel and soldiers and how they in turn impose selfdiscipline on themselves. The chapter illustrates how punishment and ideas of ‘doing the right thing’ reproduce discipline from within and above, resulting in the creation of the disciplined soldier subject who exhibits a particular kind of comportment and behaviour. As a result of the creation of the disciplined soldier subject, new types of soldiers have emerged in the Ghanaian barracks. Chapter 4 marks the beginning of examining the current state of affairs in the Ghanaian military through the presentation of three archetypes of soldier within the Ghanaian military, distinguished in terms of age, social connections, and education. The chapter moves from the description of an ‘old time soldier’ to an ‘internet’ and ‘telephone soldier’. The three archetypes represent different temporal orientations and social assemblages – from the nostalgic to the prospective, and the uneducated to the educated. The chapter shows how external factors influence military reforms and how the institution is simultaneously becoming both increasingly permeable and a closed network of connections, patronage and family interest, but it also explains what the ‘human face philosophy’ entails and its effects. Butler (1997) following Foucault (1980) points out that subjection is a continuous process. In view of this, Chapter 5 examines the influence of education and international peacekeeping on the Ghanaian military. While education is a defining difference between the first, second and third archetypes dealt with in Chapter 4, Chapter 5 shows how education impacts on the military by shaping military personnel’s understanding in relation to its internal functioning and societal position. Additionally, peacekeeping missions can be seen to change the outlook of the Ghanaian soldier by providing training and spurring a pre-emptive realization of the hardship and destruction of war.

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FROM BULLIES TO OFFICERS AND GENTLEMEN

Chapter 6 deals with perceptions of both the military and the general public. The Ghana Armed Forces have transformed from coup makers to a self-ascribed ‘defender of the state’ but also into a ‘civilian-friendly’ military organization. The final chapter ties together the different empirical processes described in the preceding chapters in a larger discussion of professionalism, civility and civilian–military relations. The chapter thereby connects the larger transformation process of the Ghanaian military with the desire of soldiers to be legitimate and positively integrated within the military and links professionalization with this move towards a positive standing in society. A conclusion then follows.

NOTES 1. Minister for Africa hails Ghana as a ‘beacon of democracy’ following successful elections (10 December 2012), see https://www.gov.uk/government/ news/minister-for-africa-hails-ghana-as-a-beacon-of-democracy-followi ng-successful-elections (accessed 22 October 2015). 2. Informal conversation with Colonel A. (rtd), Accra, Ghana (4 March 2014). 3. The army consists of two commands, Northern and Southern. Although there are plans for a Central Command, at the time of writing, it was uncertain how close these plans were to implementation. The navy has the Eastern and Western Naval Commands. The air force has three bases around Ghana – in Accra, Takoradi and Tamale. 4. In the Ghanaian military setting, the adjutant serves in close collaboration with the commanding officer as the administrator of the unit.

✫ c ha p te r 1

The Breakdown of Everydayness

hana’s post-independence political history cannot be read without at least a mention of the five coups executed by its military. The repeated military interventions in national politics generally exacerbated the already tense relationship – a colonial legacy – between the armed forces and the civilian population. However, the coups of 1979 and 1981 became notorious for the ruthless human rights violations and abuses that were carried out against both soldiers and civilians (Nugent 1995; Oquaye 2004). Moreover, during these coups, military order broke down resulting in torture and assassinations (ibid.). In that sense, the coups of 1979 and 1981 triggered what Das (1995: 5–6) termed a ‘critical event’. A critical event ‘institute[s] a new modality of historical action which is not inscribed in the inventory of that situation’ (ibid.). The concept thus describes an incision into the institution in which the event takes place. In this particular endeavour, the ethnographic outlook illuminates the implications of this event and brings the process of transformation to the foreground of the analysis. In this chapter, I describe the military intervention of 4 June 1979 and its continuation after the 31 December 1981 coups as a critical event that led to the breakdown of everydayness (De Certeau 1984) in the Ghana Armed Forces. De Certeau (ibid.: xv–xvi) describes everydayness as a way of operating that constitutes the innumerable practices that are articulated in the details of everyday life and bring into play a way of thinking invested in a way of acting. Everydayness, therefore, inspires repetition, which in turn triggers predictability of response, action or reaction. In the case of the Ghana Armed Forces, the coups of 1979 and 1981 ruptured the predictability of everydayness by temporarily eroding the military order. This, according to an informant, ‘made us a parody of a professional army’.1

G

20

FROM BULLIES TO OFFICERS AND GENTLEMEN

The critical event that contributed to the temporary breakdown of everydayness, military hierarchy and discipline or, if you will, military order in the Ghanaian military barracks was the result of a build-up of interrelated circumstances, which will be presented in the course of the chapter. While the earlier coups of 1966, 1972 and 1978 were all orchestrated by Ghana’s military leadership and close associates (Ridington 1979; Nugent 1995; Oquaye 1980, 2004), the coups of 1979 and 1981 were a collective effort between other ranks (ORs) and junior officers (Hutchful 1997b). Due to the status of the organizers as juniors or, in the words of Nugent, ‘small boys’ in the military hierarchy (Nugent 1995: 22), these coups had more profound implications for the Ghanaian armed forces as an institution.

The Mutiny of 4 June 1979 On 4 June 1979, ORs of the Ghana Armed Forces mutinied. The mutineers claimed the cause for their rebellion was maltreatment dished out to them by their superiors. Furthermore, they deplored poor working conditions and a breakdown in communication between commanders and their men. This allegedly resulted in unhealthy working relations between officers and ORs. Prior to the so-called ‘June 4th Uprising’ (Oquaye 2004), on 15 May 1979, the then young officer Flight Lieutenant Jerry John Rawlings had attempted a coup and failed. The charismatic young officer was put before a military court in a public trial (Oquaye 2004), which allowed Rawlings through media appeals to garner support of ORs. On the morning of 4 June 1979, the interests of Rawlings and the ORs converged. The ORs needed a leader for their rebellion and utilized the mutiny to release Rawlings (who after his conviction for treason was awaiting the death penalty) from prison at the headquarters of the Bureau of National Investigation (BNI) in Accra. Rawlings was transported by the mutineers to the premises of the national broadcaster, Ghana Broadcasting Corporation (GBC),2 to announce the takeover of the country.3 A new government comprising of both junior officers and ORs (Oquaye 2004: 2) was established in the form of the Armed Forces Revolutionary Council (AFRC). The so-called ‘house-cleaning exercise’ (Oquaye 2004) was initiated as a result of the mutiny. This operation resulted in the execution of, among others, former military heads of state, such as Generals Afrifa, Acheampong and Akuffo and their allies, like Colonel Felli, Major Generals Kotei and Utuka, Air Vice Marshal Boakye and Rear Admiral Amedume (Nugent 1995; Oquaye 2004). In the ensuing chaos of the mutiny,

THE BREAKDOWN OF EVERYDAYNESS

21

officers of the rank of Major and above were molested and attacked by ORs, who sought revenge on officers whom they accused of lack of respect (ibid.: 5). On 24 September 1979, the AFRC ‘abdicated’ (Finer 1962) to the barracks and relinquished power to the civilian government of Dr Hilla Limann (Oquaye 2004). The AFRC may have handed over power, but the regime had left a long trail of blood, and the reputation of the barracks was in ruins. The successful mutiny and the AFRC rule had not only ‘emboldened the lower ranks’4 but also instilled in them the belief that ‘they could easily organise a coup should the need arise’.5 In that sense, the mutiny of 1979 was a precursor of events to come in the near future. The military is an institution with its particular codes for behaviour and action. The ORs’ treatment of officers, their new-found self-confidence and expectations of power all constituted a new modality that contradicts conventional rules of the military institution and that informed decisions and shaped the Ghanaian military for years to come, perhaps still to this day.

Reaction of the Limann Government After the coup of ‘small boys’ (Nugent 1995: 22), the Ghanaian military was on the verge of implosion (Oquaye 2004). Hutchful (1997a: 538) notes that when the People’s National Party (PNP) inherited power from the AFRC, the civilian government had plans to tame the military to prevent it from destabilizing society. However, the PNP not only inherited power but also an economy in shambles, with skyrocketing inflation, crisis of political authority and constitutional problems from preceding military rule and the near complete disintegration of the public sector (ibid.). Tackling the economic downturn was the government’s priority (ibid.); saving the Ghanaian military from implosion was less urgent, although it was obvious that the military system was falling apart due to the execution of senior officers, the resignation and flight of other officers and the ‘rampant incidence of military indiscipline and violence’ (ibid.). Though the transformation process of the military was not an immediate priority of the PNP, the government did attempt to tackle the dangers emanating from the armed forces and the challenges the military faced. The PNP did appoint a committee to report on, among other things, the conditions in the service (Hutchful 1997a: 542), while dismissing the Chief of Defence Staff (CDS) Brigadier Nunoo-Mensah and Army Commander Brigadier Quainoo and replacing them with other commanders. Congruently, soldiers and officers involved in the putsch of 1979, including Rawlings, were purged from the military or relocated abroad (ibid.: 539).

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FROM BULLIES TO OFFICERS AND GENTLEMEN

Historical witnesses, reflecting on this period, note that the actions of the Limann government remained superficial. A source, who served at the President’s office, contends that Limann embarked on a ‘restructuring mission’6 rather than the urgently needed transformation of the military. According to the retired senior officer, in the restructuring exercise undertaken by the PNP, the chessmen were simply moved around the chessboard or replaced by others as happened with the dismissal of the CDS and Army Commander. He contends that Limann’s government should have tackled the ailing armed forces with much more determination than it did, suggesting that the PNP should have disbanded the marauding units (5 Infantry Battalion and Armoured Reconnaissance Regiment)7 and replaced them with new battalions. Additionally, any soldier or officer remotely involved in the coups should have been released from the military system, as this would have sent the undiluted message that coups, rebellions and mutinies were unacceptable. The informant deploys a metaphor to make his point: If your house is burned but the structure is still standing and you want to go back to live in it, what do you do? You will probably need to tear the whole [house] down and rebuild it for you to be able to live in it again. You don’t take just the burnt doors and windows out and replace them with new ones. You need to undertake some serious renovation works. The Limann government just replaced parts of the burned house instead of overhauling the whole house.8

This statement represents a common opinion among ex-soldiers from this period. Both officers and men serving at the time of the events note that the PNP’s attempt to tackle the ills of the Ghana Armed Forces cannot be classified as a rigorous defence transformation process but merely a reshaping exercise that scratched the surface of the Ghanaian military’s problems. This approach, they argue, only hurt the military and set the stage for the coup of 31 December 1981.9 Hutchful (1997a: 537) writes that generally transforming the military, in the Ghanaian context, entailed establishing democratic control over the military, re-equipping the armed forces and, most importantly, reorienting the military from its previous focus on internal security roles, thus conditioning it towards external defence of the state. Reflecting on the reaction of the PNP, a former Colonel10 notes that the Limann government chose for quick fixes whereas transformation processes are time-consuming exercises that take time to yield results – years, perhaps even decades later. However, with the benefit of hindsight, my interlocutors conclude that time was not on the side of the civilian administrators.

THE BREAKDOWN OF EVERYDAYNESS

23

The government was in office for a little over two years. In two years, you cannot transform an army [military]. To transform an army, you need to change our minds, our attitudes. That is a long-term project. Time was one thing the Limann government did not have on their side. They did not get enough time to deal with the military properly and implement policies to change us.11

Apart from a lack of time, my informants note that Limann operated in a hostile environment and in an unpredictable era (Petchenkine 1991), and thus had to tread carefully not to provoke a coup. Additionally, not long before Limann became president, his predecessors had been executed during the ‘house-cleaning exercise’ (Nugent 1995; Oquaye 2004). An informant notes: He had seen what had happened to his predecessors. He was careful not to antagonize the military and spark another coup. He wasn’t afraid of what would happen to him per se but was careful with the military. Limann constantly worried about a coup, which ironically came and disposed him.12

In other words, the execution of his predecessors impacted Limann’s perceptions of the military as well as his dealings with it.13 The PNP’s careful approach to tackling and dealing with the military’s problems eventually contributed to the expulsion of the PNP from the political arena.

The 1981 Coup and Its Consequences On the night of 31 December 1981, Rawlings and his cohorts executed the last successful coup in Ghana, which overthrew the PNP civilian government (Nugent 1995; Oquaye 2004). The coup of 1981, one could argue, was a continuation of the 1979 mutiny, as this intervention was orchestrated by junior officers and ORs involved in the events of 1979. After the 1981 coup, Rawlings initially struggled to consolidate his grip on power (Hutchful 1997b). My interlocutors point out that some soldiers, similar to the events of 1979, took advantage of the chaotic situation to settle scores with their superiors. The lower ranks argued that ORs were being abused by officers to undertake non-soldierly tasks, such as cleaning their quarters or driving officers’ relatives to the hospital. Additionally, the ORs were dissatisfied with the fact that their superiors had inadequately responded to their difficulties and grievances voiced in the previous rebellion. Angered by these issues, the ORs utilized the coup as a vehicle for a rampage against officers.14,15 Once again, officers were

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FROM BULLIES TO OFFICERS AND GENTLEMEN

assaulted, and in some cases officers were murdered by ORs. The event that most dramatically illustrates the chaos and its devastating impact on the core of the Ghana Armed Forces, especially on the officer corps, was the killing of two naval officers and the Base Coxswain at the Sekondi Naval Base two months after the 31 December 1981 coup. A retired naval informant narrates his experiences of 4 February 1982: I was a Sub-Lieutenant then. As usual, I was on my way to my office at the Sekondi Naval Base. The entrance of the Base has two gates. Before you can get into the place, you descend into the harbour. Usually when you get there, you are questioned and maybe searched before you are allowed to enter. When you enter, you negotiate a right turn. However, on this morning when I came in, the gates were left ajar; there were no guards at the gate. That was unusual. Anyway, at the beginning of the right turn, the ratings [naval ORs] had placed a checkpoint. When I arrived here, I was arrested. All officers at the Base were arrested. Some had earlier on in the morning attended an outdooring [a child naming ceremony]. They had received a message that officers were being arrested so they stayed away. But those of us who didn’t attend the outdooring were apprehended upon arrival. We were put in the guardroom. Message got out to the nearby Air Force Base and 2BN [2 Infantry Battalion] guys. These guys came to negotiate our release and prevented a massacre of us. The ratings, in the meanwhile, had shot two officers and the Base Coxswain [Commanders Bannor and Ajavon; Fleet Chief Petty Officer Hughes]. Up until when we were released, we were not aware that they had been killed. Upon our release, the vehicle that was to take us into town had blood stains all over it. It turned out that after the guys had been shot behind the guardroom16 their bodies had quickly been put in this car and sent to the mortuary. When the news of the murders got out, the shock throughout the Ghana Armed Forces was immense. It is still surreal talking about it today.17

The killings of the officers and the Base Coxswain and the executions as a result of the house-cleaning exercise are defining events in the history of the Ghana Armed Forces. These critical events (Das 1995) shaped and continue to shape the Ghanaian military. Additionally, my informants reiterate that it was in the period of the coups of 1979 and 1981 that everydayness and discipline began to decrease. For instance, officers stress that apart from attacking their superiors, ORs refused to take orders or salute their superiors. Moreover, some soldiers reported to duty inappropriately dressed, in military uniform with unbuttoned shirts or without boots as required but rather ‘Charlie Watteh’ (bathroom slippers).18 Discipline had been debased. You could see that in how soldiers reacted to instructions and their assigned duties. Soldiers were not

THE BREAKDOWN OF EVERYDAYNESS

25

working. Furthermore, their attitude towards officers – the officers were not saluted properly; at least not wholeheartedly. All in all, the soldiers’ response and respect for junior officers and their command was not the best. They were not completely disobedient but also not completely obedient.19

Military conventions of taking orders and saluting superiors were not upheld. My OR informants serving at the time narrate with pride that, in some units, lower ranks temporarily commanded their regiments. For instance, at 3 Infantry Battalion (3BN) in Sunyani, soldiers arrested their superiors at the Liberation Barracks, lined them up on the Battalion Square and drilled them to ‘teach them a lesson and to show them who was in charge’.20 Across Ghana, according to my interlocutors, officers were locked up in guardrooms and forced to sleep on waterlogged floors, and in the mornings they were marched into the fields to weed.21 Across the military institution, it was no longer taken for granted that the rules were followed, military conventions respected and orders executed, which, in turn, eroded the predictability and everydayness and, not to mention, destroyed what the military institution stood for; namely, authority, hierarchy and discipline. My informants note that the chaos and impunity signalled to them that they were they at risk of being molested or murdered because ‘“everyone knew who the killers were but nothing was done. This had an impact on a lot of officers”’.22 Additionally, due to the PNDC’s reliance on ORs and junior officers for its power, my interlocutors note that officers could expect very little support from the regime. Moreover, the dominance of the junior ranks in the leadership in the barracks (Nugent 1995: 22) generated discomfort within the officer corps and heightened tensions within the military as a whole because senior officers disagreed with how the military was managed by the coup leaders (Hutchful 1997a, 1997b). The tensions and disagreement prompted an exodus of senior and well-qualified officers from the armed forces,23 leaving a vacuum in the military hierarchy.24 The consequences of the departure of senior and well-qualified officers were far-reaching. The [Ghana] Navy, for instance, the crème de la crème left. We lost a lot of our seniors for good. As a young officer, you understudy your seniors, as military service is practical. You are trained on the job. We did not have enough of that necessary training, because of the coup and what happened to our people. That has followed us till this day.25

In sum, the coup d’état of 1981 dealt a devastating blow to the officer class (Oquaye 2004: 118). My interlocutors note that with the murders and the departure of qualified senior officers, military order, everyday-

26

FROM BULLIES TO OFFICERS AND GENTLEMEN

ness, hierarchy and discipline broke down in the Ghanaian barracks. Additionally, commanders in the Ghanaian military had become cautious of commanding, insisting on rigid obedience and maintenance of discipline from their subordinates. My informants note that commanders were cautious not to antagonize ORs, which thus contributed to the deterioration of discipline. As a result of the events of more than thirty years ago, senior officers, who were young at the time, continue to be wary of ORs and prepare for the hypothetical case of discipline breaking down again. An informant confided that ‘we still ‘look over our shoulders’.

The Armed Forces Defence Committees Prior to the breakdown of discipline at the beginning of the 1980s, Ghanaian soldiers followed the credo ‘obey before complain’.26 According to Hutchful (1997b: 253), this meant that the soldier was obliged to blindly and mindlessly obey an order, and this ‘sometimes exposed hapless soldiers to arbitrary illegal orders’ (ibid.). My interlocutors recall the agitations and tensions in the barracks in this period as a result of the demand of blind obedience and execution of orders, especially between officers and men,27 as ORs believed they were being enslaved by their superiors.28 Further, my OR informants complain that although they did all the manual labour in the barracks, their officers received the credit for their work. ‘Obey before complain’ also meant that there was no room for dialogue even if subordinates were experts in a particular field or disagreed with the officer’s approach. To generate and maintain the support of ORs and junior officers but also of the ‘oppressed and common, hardworking man’ (Oquaye 2004: 228) for the so-called ‘People’s Revolution’, the PNDC at the beginning of 1982 introduced the People’s Defence Committees (PDCs) (ibid.) and installed the Armed Forces Defence Committees (AFDCs) in every barracks. Immediately after the 31 December 1981 coup, ORs hoping to regain some of the political power and influence on national affairs bestowed upon them after the 1979 putsch joined the AFDCs in large numbers (ibid.: 225). More importantly, the ORs and junior officers wanted to ‘democratize’ what they considered a colonial and outdated military chain of command (ibid.). The AFDCs demanded, for instance, that commanding officers (COs) not be appointed as required by the military administrative rules but voted into office through popular election (ibid.). Further, ‘that all soldiers in offices of authority be accountable to lower ranks to whom in effect they owe their positions’ (ibid.). My interlocutors note that the powerful position of the AFDCs was not only eroding the command struc-

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ture of the military but was also contributing to the further deterioration and distortion of the already tense relationship between officers and men (Hutchful 1997a, 1997b; Oquaye 2004). Additionally, the ORs’ proposal of democratizing the military, if implemented, would have meant that nearly every military policy decision concerning important matters, such as intelligence, strategies, recruitment and training but also supplies and logistics, would have to be presented for discussion in the barracks by rank and file, thus decisions would no longer be taken only by the military leadership (ibid.: 229). An informant notes that apart from the discussed killings, the formation of the AFDCs definitely contributed to the temporary breakdown of everydayness, military order, hierarchy and discipline. Firstly, membership of the AFDCs was initially limited to only NCOs, thus excluding officers (Oquaye 2004: 226). Later on, however, officers up to the ranks of army Captain, naval Lieutenant and air force Flight Lieutenant were allowed membership (ibid.). The initial exclusion of officers from this organization made senior officers, in particular, targets of violent attacks by AFDC members.29 ‘The immediate reaction of the AFDCs, and particularly the extremist wing, was to turn against officers’ (ibid.). My informant noted that the violent attacks generated fear and anxiety within the barracks among senior officers, as they feared assassination. The formation of the AFDCs thus contributed directly to the breakdown of everydayness and military order. Violence against officers was only one manifestation of the AFDCs; questioning of the officer’s authority and legitimacy was another.30 My interlocutors point out that the AFDCs also emboldened ORs not taking orders from their superiors, because, after all, the officers were accountable to the lower ranks. This is elaborated on in the following excerpt. In those days, when you gave an order to a subordinate and he thought it was unlawful, he would ask the AFDC to investigate. The AFDC came to check whether your decisions were valid. They were the bosses.31

According to an informant, the AFDCs’ practice of investigating the validity of an officer’s orders firstly undermined the officer’s command. Secondly, the orders were not executed during the investigation period, thus undermining discipline. During the Revolution, ORs were already reluctant to execute orders issued by their superiors and instrumentalized their AFDC membership to avoid following orders altogether by requesting an investigation into the validity of their officers’ orders.32 This attitude undermined discipline and distorted the everydayness in the barracks even further.33 The ORs and junior officers also utilized their AFDC membership, the regime’s undiluted support for them and the PNDC’s

28

FROM BULLIES TO OFFICERS AND GENTLEMEN

dependency on them to undermine their commanders’ authority and military discipline in general. On the other hand, officers resisted insisting on their subordinates following and executing orders because ‘we were aware of our vulnerable position’.34 A former commander notes that the reluctance gradually allowed caution to sneak into the barracks, which eventually was disastrous for discipline35 because ‘officers dared not correct the wrongs going on, whereas soldiers were not held accountable for disobeying orders or for committing crimes’.36 For a brief moment there was ‘lawlessness in the barracks’.37 In short, the AFDCs complicated command and control of soldiers, as they constantly looked over the shoulders of commanders, which resulted in some ‘officers feeling as if we were under the supervision of the men’.38 This situation further amplified the poor communication between officers and men. Moreover, the persistent questioning of the officers’ authority generated distrust (Isaacs, Alexander and Haggard 1963: 463) between officers and men; with high stakes: Our job is about life and death. That is why when I shout ‘Down!’ the soldier should lie flat on the ground. A bullet or some form of danger might be coming that man’s way and I have spotted it. He should obey the order without questioning what I am telling him to do. If he raises his head to question what I have just said, the bullet might catch his head. Anyway, if my soldier questions my authority to order him or the validity of the order, it means I don’t have command anymore over that soldier. That is what happened at the beginning of the ‘Revolution’; we lost our command.39

In other words, prior to the Revolution, although there were problems between officers and men, my interlocutors note that officers had authority to command. However, during the Revolution, the AFDCs’ prominence and dominance in the barracks undermined military discipline and facilitated the breakdown of military order and everydayness. The AFDCs’ attempt to ‘democratize’ (Oquaye 2004) the Ghana Armed Forces also affected the hierarchy of the Ghanaian military establishment. According to an informant, officers are trained to command (i.e. to manage and control soldiers) men; ORs do not have the training and skills required for this job.40 My informants recall the ensuing confusion after the 1979 coup and at the beginning of the Revolution, when the command structure of the Ghanaian military was disrupted.41 The coups of 1979 and 1981 did something alien to our military system and traditions. Overnight, we had ORs and young officers assuming positions of authority. The Head of State himself was a Flight Lieutenant. In 1981, we also had ORs [Sergeant Alolga Akata Pore and

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29

Warrant Officer Class I Adjei Boadi] as members of the ruling PNDC. So you had a situation in which everything had been overturned.42

The ‘normal’ military order had been turned upside down with ‘small boys’ (Nugent 1995: 22) at the realms of power, ‘leading to strange interactions and awkward situations’.43 Subordinates had assumed offices of authority, which they, according to their superiors, were ill-equipped and unqualified to occupy. In the words of an informant: ‘One has to learn how to crawl before one can walk.’44 Conversely, the juniors had not gone through the rigorous channels of preparation, education and gradual progression through the ranks as required by the military establishment. The jump in development and the dominance of junior officers and ORs in the new regime created, according to my interlocutors, an ‘unnatural’ situation in which senior officers were under-represented and at risk of being terrorized, which eventually led to the breakdown of everydayness and military order.

The Beginnings of 64 Infantry Regiment and Its Effects on Discipline The Revolution, according to a former CO of a combat unit and a close associate of the PNDC, split the Ghana Armed Forces into a regular military and a ‘revolutionary force’ (a militia), causing more damage to military order. Nugent (1995: 122) notes that from mid 1982 to June 1983, the PNDC had survived several coup plots planned by the Ghanaian military; especially the coup attempt of 19 June 1983 stunned the PNDC. The regime became particularly aware that it could not ‘take the loyalty of the Ghana Armed Forces for granted’ (ibid.). A strategy to combat this situation was the creation of various security organs, such as the militia ‘Civil Defence Organisation’ and the ‘Mobisquads’, formed from students and unemployed youth (Hutchful 1995: 305). Moreover, Oquaye (2004: 230) notes the bulk of the military during the Revolution had gradually been disarmed, while access to arms and ammunition had been limited to a select group of people trusted by the regime. Additionally, in this period, the PNDC established the ‘Force Reserve Battalion’ (FRB, later mutating into 64 Infantry Regiment); a paramilitary force, popularly known as the ‘commandos’, trained in and equipped by Libya and Cuba (ibid.). The soldiers who initially formed the FRB comprised of men who, due to their involvement in previous coups, had been released from the military establishment as well as people who had retired from the military but utilized the Revolution to return to the armed

30

FROM BULLIES TO OFFICERS AND GENTLEMEN

forces, completed with soldiers selected from various units of the Ghana Armed Forces to bolster the ranks.45 The regime thus ran a military within the armed forces. In line with the revolutionary zeitgeist, selected soldiers were assigned ‘special revolutionary duties, such as performing guard duties at the national broadcaster GBC or at the (Christiansborg) Castle’,46 the then seat of government power. According to historic witnesses, in an environment in which a part of the armed forces was unarmed and powerless and a part was well-trained and well-equipped, discipline was severely compromised, as the FRB members had little or no regard for the authority or their colleagues on the other end of the spectrum. Additionally, when the FRB soldiers met superiors from the regular armed forces, they did not accord them the required military etiquettes.47 An informant notes that, after all, ‘the FRB soldiers were rubbing shoulders with the people in power and were moving in the corridors of the powerful. Their behaviour portrayed arrogance and disrespect’.48 For example, the FRB foot soldiers did not salute officers when they met them, because they knew they could not be sanctioned for not adhering to the military conventions. Moreover, the FRB members did not bother to interact with their colleagues from the regular armed forces, because ‘they were not part of the Revolution’.49 According to an informant, every combat unit was obliged to assign soldiers to perform guard duties at strategic areas, such as the GBC, for long periods of time – sometimes for up to six months. However, the informant notes, ORs lobbied to stay at these places for years. During their deployments to these securitized areas, the informant adds, the CO had no authority over the men he had sent to perform these ‘revolutionary duties’.50 Moreover, more often than not, when these soldiers returned to their units, they had difficulties adjusting to military life because officers at the units were gradually establishing their authority, while at these ‘revolutionary duty stations’ ORs still called the shots.51 The administrative control (which has to do with logistics, ration etc.) of the FRB and later the 64 Infantry Regiment, was, during the ‘Revolution’, under the control of the Ghana Army.52 However, the operational control, which has to do with deployment of the troops, was with the ‘Chairman of the PNDC, Flight Lieutenant Rawlings’.53 This concretely meant that the army commander could not deploy the revolutionary paramilitary without the explicit permission of the chairman.54 Furthermore, ‘the procurement of equipment, ammunition, and weapons for this organ were executed separately’.55 This arrangement affected discipline, as members of this militia only took orders and instructions from their CO and other officers of this organization.56

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Additionally, soldiers of the FRB were viewed with envy and suspicion by their colleagues from the regular military because the revolutionaries were better paid and catered for.57 Moreover, the members of the FRB were deemed ‘spies of the Revolution’,58 and thus were approached with caution by their colleagues, which affected cohesion in the barracks.59 The disarming of the regular armed forces, the formation of FRB and the failure of its soldiers to participate in military etiquette contributed to undermining military discipline and facilitating the breakdown of everydayness and hierarchy in the Ghanaian barracks.

Response to the Breakdown of Everydayness and Military Hierarchy The ailing armed forces and the looming breakdown of everydayness and military order called for firm action. This resulted in a plethora of reactions from various quarters and actors. These reactions to the events included, first, reactions from the military operatives themselves and, second, measures taken by the regime and the military leadership to restore discipline.

Officers’ Responses within the Barracks Coups, according to an informant, are disruptive events that dislodge careers and lives of both officers and men. These events rupture predictable actions relating to ‘administering, commanding and controlling officers and men in the barracks’.60 From military operatives’ perspective, coups are also usually accompanied by a ‘cocktail of tension, uncertainty and anxiety’61 but also ‘a lot of confusion’.62 My informants, young officers at the time, stress that the confusion was accompanied by a sense of danger, especially for officers and soldiers who fought with the coup makers.63 Not only could officers and men be killed in this unpredictable environment, life was also perilous due to the unpredictable behaviour of soldiers who targeted specifically officers.64 Whereas ORs aimed to protect and consolidate their new-found status as backers of the PNDC through the AFDCs, officers reacted in a variety of ways to the new constellation and its associated risks.65 Oquaye (2004: 227) notes that in the early phase of the Revolution, some senior officers temporarily vacated their official residences in the barracks, disappearing into hiding. Other officers moved their families from the barracks and commuted to work, never again returning to live within the confinements

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FROM BULLIES TO OFFICERS AND GENTLEMEN

of the barracks. These measures were taken as a precaution against possible attacks by marauding junior ranks (ibid.). However, Oquaye notes that some officers eventually returned to the barracks after the regime PNDC government had assured their safety (ibid.). Yet others only returned after being threatened with court martials for absenting themselves from work without leave or permission from the military institution (ibid.). Nugent (1995: 43) notes that the presence of ORs Akata Pore and Adjei Boadi in the PNDC was meant to appease the lower ranks but had an unsettling effect on senior officers, as in their view this move undermined the military chain of command,66 exposing senior officers to more violence. According to an informant: Due to the ORs in the government, and the breakdown of law and order, some of our colleagues who couldn’t stand the heat just left. The military they signed to join had changed, and that is not what they’ve signed for. It had become dangerous so they just left.67

Obviously, not all officers abandoned their commissions as a result of the breakdown of discipline and hierarchy. Where some left the military, other officers took advantage of the situation and teamed up with the coup makers. My interlocutors who joined the coup makers revealed in our numerous discussions a variety of motives for, in their own view, their controversial choice. High-ranking officers who occupied crucial offices such as CO during the Revolution contend that they had no choice but to support the regime because they considered it the task of every soldier to support every government, even one that acquires power through the ‘barrel of a gun’ (First 1970: 6).68 In addition, due to the offices they occupied at the time, they had no choice but to support the coup makers. These retired officers claim that the moment an illegitimate government is sworn into office it mutates into the legitimate government.69 That means ‘any form of opposition or resistance from any soldier or officer would be interpreted as subversive activities against the state’.70 My informants, moreover, assert that the choice to support the coup was also due to a lack of alternatives. It was either support the coup or quit the military service. Furthermore, other officers claim they joined the coup makers ‘out of self-preservation because ‘it was an extremely unpredictable, uncertain, and dangerous time’.71 This choice can be considered a risky strategy, as their colleagues accused them of betraying their fellow officers for personal gain and rank. However, my informants who made these choices argue that proximity to the regime guaranteed their safety and protected them against summary arrests and executions because they had become part of the ruling elite.72

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In the end, a large majority of officers remained with the military system for various reasons. Reflecting on events and decisions made more than thirty years ago, some of my informants conclude that the armed forces were better served with them on board than without them. In their view, staying on board not only meant prolongation of their careers, but they also hoped to influence the political course of the country because ‘some of us believed that we could convince the guys to relinquish power to an elected, civilian government’.73 Finally, my informants cite the economic circumstances of Ghana in the early 1980s. As a result of economic mismanagement by previous governments, the economy of Ghana was in dire straits.74 That is why these actors argue that they would have most certainly been unemployed; a risk they could not afford to take, as they had a responsibility to their dependents and themselves. In short, ‘it was about survival’.75 A great majority of my interlocutors assert that most of them had joined the military immediately after secondary school and thus had no other skills except their military training: ‘Quitting the military would have been close to committing social suicide.’76 Officers’ reactions to the situation thus varied depending on rank and position. While some senior officers went into hiding, or vacated their commission (Oquaye 2004), others spotted a career opportunity looming in the chaos and joined forces with the coup makers, claiming lack of alternatives and self-preservation as justification.

The PNDC Regime’s Response The PNDC also had to respond to the breakdown of military order as it depended on stability and tranquillity within the military for its long-term survival. Hutchful (1997b: 251) argues that when Flight Lieutenant Rawlings forcefully assumed power in 1981, he was confronted with a military that had been politicized through its repeated incursions into politics. Empirical data suggest that Rawlings certainly contributed to the politicization of the armed forces because he orchestrated and executed a failed coup but also participated in two successful putsches. Furthermore, as head of state, at least in his first period as leader of the AFRC, Ghana was governed by soldiers, thus contributing to politicizing the military. In light of the above, some observers deem it ironic that the task of transforming the military befell the Rawlings regime (cf. Nugent 1995; Hutchful 1997a, 1997b). Based on the available literature and interviews with my informants, Rawlings did not undertake the transformation project of the Ghanaian military out of altruism but rather out of self-preservation and self-interest. The regime was aware that an ailing military system

34

FROM BULLIES TO OFFICERS AND GENTLEMEN

could not support and sustain the government. Nugent (1995: 54) points out that transforming the military was a tricky business given that this process could easily trigger a counter-coup from soldiers who disapproved or feared being affected by the new direction the military would be taking. The regime’s tactic for dealing with this delicate exercise was to visit units and regiments across the country to explain the aim of the Revolution and the place of the armed forces in it, before embarking on the actual transformation mission (ibid.). What were Rawlings’ motives for initiating the transformation process of the Ghana Armed Forces? Having said that personal ambition and political survival of the regime were the main motives for the regime to restore military order and implement discipline, the regime ‘feared threats from the military if it continued to implement radical experiments with the armed forces’ (Hutchful 1997b: 256). Secondly, the motivation for repairing discipline in the barracks and embarking on the transformation exercise of the Ghana Armed Forces was to gain political legitimacy from international donors and organizations (Hutchful 1997a). The PNDC government was in dire need of funds and approached the International Monetary Fund (IMF): ‘The IMF demanded, as conditions for the loans, political stability in the country which meant curbs on the activities of the various committees that support the Revolution, including the AFDCs’ (ibid.). The toning down of the activities of the AFDCs translated into the slow return of everydayness, military order and discipline to the barracks. Further, the restoration of military order was coupled with, among others, the appointment of the controversial General Arnold Quainoo as the Force Commander of the Ghana Armed Forces – i.e. the head of the military; tasked with the restoration of everydayness of the relationships within the barracks, military discipline and hierarchy (see also Nugent 1995: 122).77 Oquaye (2004: 229) notes that the regime realized that the politicization of the military was not only in breach of the Ghana Armed Forces Regulations Volume One (doctrine that deals with administration), but it also distorted relations within the military. This situation called for an immediate intervention. Das (1995: 6) argues that a critical event cuts across an institution or a bureaucracy. A critical event shakes the foundations of the terrain on which it occurs. Reversing the critical event thus calls for measures that are, perhaps, unorthodox or controversial. These measures may include exclusion of certain groups or categories of people in the process of reversing the critical event. When General Quainoo – then known in the barracks as ‘Buffalo Soldier’ or ‘Idi Amin’ due to his ‘vigorous management style’ (Nugent 1995:

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129) – accepted the task of restoring military order, discipline and hierarchy in the Ghanaian military barracks, he implemented a number of initiatives. The first and, according to my interlocutors, the most radical directive was the so-called ‘3-day AWOL (Absence without Official Leave) rule’.78 This measure meant that a soldier who absented himself from the barracks for more than three days could consider himself automatically discharged from the service. Secondly, Oquaye (2004: 230) notes that in 1983 General Quainoo issued directives banning the AFDCs from the barracks; in effect, reinstalling the command structure (Nugent 1995; Hutchful 1997a, 1997b). Another important measure taken by the General was divorcing the Border Guards from the military (Nugent 1995: 122). The retired senior officer argues that soldiers from this organization were a source of discontent and friction within the barracks. He notes that the soldiers displayed their illegitimately acquired wealth through bribe collection at the borders by driving around in fancy cars and buying expensive household appliances, such as televisions and sound systems. The exhibition of wealth not only generated jealousy and envy within the barracks but also agitation among the rank and file, as the Border Guards were considered corrupt by their colleagues. In short, the source of discontent within the barracks had to be eliminated (ibid.). The next group on the receiving end of the General’s actions was the Junior Leader’s Company (also known as the Boys’ Company). The specialized military training school set up by the British colonial masters in 1953 was aimed at training them to take up elite management positions in the OR corps and become potential officers. Soldiers who had enjoyed their military training at this institution played leading roles in the events of 1979 and 1981,79 as they led the way to release Rawlings from prison to lead their mutiny after his failed coup attempt.80 In the coup of 1981,81 the soldiers from the Boys’ Company once again spearheaded Rawlings’ power seizure.82 According to a close associate of the PNDC, although Rawlings came to power with the assistance of the so-called ex-Boys,83 he was wary of their knowledge, unity and military prowess and thus decided to eliminate them before they could derail his regime.84 However, the official argument of the regime was that ‘the military has no difficulty finding suitable recruits, so it is not necessary to accommodate such a school, especially in view of the need to save money for the country’.85 This argument is to this day a bone of contention between the ex-Boys and PNDC associates. Super Stars ’74 (SS’74) was a military team that consisted of athletes, boxers and footballers.86 The majority of these athletes were football players who participated in the national premier league. This military team

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FROM BULLIES TO OFFICERS AND GENTLEMEN

was a creation of former military ruler General Acheampong, who formed the club in 1974 after he came to office in 1972.87 According to my interlocutors, the former ruler wanted to create a team that could represent Ghana on the international stage and at the same time bridge the gap between the military and society at large.88 General Quainoo disbanded this team as part of the transformation exercise, arguing that firstly ‘the military is to defend the nation and not to play sports’.89 Secondly, the General asserts that the team was the source of tribal tensions within the barracks.90 For example, the biggest football teams in Ghana are Kumasi Asanti Kotoko and Accra Hearts of Oak. These rival teams represent the two largest cities in the country, garner the biggest groups of supporters, and represent the Ashanti and the Ga ethnic groups. Some players of SS’74 supported these teams prior to joining the military team. On occasions when SS’74 played against Kotoko or Hearts, their supporters on the team underperformed, causing the military team to lose.91 These situations led to agitation and tensions within the teams, with the Ashantis accusing the Gas of underperforming for their supported team to win, or the Gas pointing fingers at the Ashantis for causing them to lose. These tensions found their way into the barracks and had to be dealt with.

More Measures by the PNDC The directives described above concern practical measures to resuscitate the Ghanaian military. However, there were also immaterial actions that brought the Ghana Armed Forces back on their feet, as the practical measures were insufficient to alter the relations within the barracks after abuse, humiliation and murder. Firstly, the General and Rawlings travelled to barracks around the country, not only to rally support for the Revolution but also to appeal to soldiers about the meaning of being a soldier and what is expected of a soldier (Nugent 1995: 122). General Quainoo and Rawlings reminded the soldiers of their soldierly values; for example, that ‘a soldier always works under the authority of an officer, and a soldier respects authority, his superiors and the rank’.92 Soldierly values will be treated in-depth in the next chapter. Secondly, my interlocutors reiterate that COs at the various battalions and regiments, as a result of the toxic atmosphere and fear of their subordinates, lacked the self-confidence necessary to command their soldiers. However, a former CO asserts that General Quainoo’s ‘no nonsense approach to reviving the Ghana Armed Forces, his fearlessness and his self-confidence trickled down to subordinate commanders. His personal attitude permeated and infested the system and as a result instilled confidence in us’.93 In short, the General’s personal attitude inspired confi-

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dence in his subordinate commanders, taking away their fear and instilling selfless service in them. Thirdly, perhaps one of the most important measures initiated by the PNDC was depoliticizing the military and delinking the AFDCs from the popular movement by clearing the organization of civilian cadre members and opening up membership to all officers (Hutchful 1997b: 256). Fourthly, the military order was restored through the installation of the command structure and the military’s emphasis ‘on the duties of soldiers and the power and responsibilities of their officers’ (ibid.) and less on democratic initiatives from below (ibid.: 257). Nugent (1995: 133) argues that ‘there was an unambiguous reversion to the good old, ideal standard operating procedures and fixed chains of command. This marked the return of a recognizable military structure in which discipline can be implemented’. A fifth measure included reducing the military’s presence in the regime (Agyeman-Duah 1987; Oquaye 2004). Through this measure, the lower ranks were no longer separately represented as had previously been the case, side by side with very senior officers such as the CDS (Hutchful 1997b: 258). Despite these measures contributing to restoring everydayness and military order in the barracks, ORs note that Rawlings used them for his personal political agenda and afterwards restored the command structure, which brought officers ‘back into the driver’s seat’94 to rule over them. The ORs claim that Rawlings cheated them by not honouring his promise of egalitarianism instead of a rigid command structure (Nugent 1995: 85). Especially the graduates of the Junior Leaders’ Company, in my interactions with them, expressed utter bitterness towards Rawlings and his cohorts. The so-called ‘ex-Boys’ claim Rawlings took advantage of their skills for his political adventures, but ‘he and [General] Quainoo seized the first opportunity’ to disband their military school.95 The PNDC further introduced two institutions for governing the Ghana Armed Forces: the Defence Administrative Committee (DAC) and the Defence Staff Committee (DSC) (Hutchful 1997b: 259). These advice organs with mixed membership of soldiers and civilians, including the CDS, and the Chief Director of the Ministry of Defence, were tasked with bringing stability to the military through policy recommendations that would eventually contribute to the improvement of discipline in the barracks (ibid.). My interlocutors, in line with Hutchful (1997b: 259), point to the seventh measure as one of the key puzzle pieces en route to restoring everydayness, military order, hierarchy and discipline. Namely, the installation of the Erskine Commission under the leadership of retired General Emmanuel Erskine. An informant elaborates on the value of this commission’s recommendations:

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FROM BULLIES TO OFFICERS AND GENTLEMEN

The commission examined the command and organizational structure, discipline, and ranking system of the Ghana Armed Forces. Bottlenecks in the military system, such as lack of logistics, lack of accommodation, lack of uniforms and a poor feeding system for soldiers on duty, were identified. The commission also identified serious lapses in discipline. The commission recommended the restoration of disciplinary codes of the military. Further, the commission pointed to bottlenecks, which made regular promotions difficult. People were, to their frustration, in ranks for a very long time. The commission recommended guidelines for the conditions, be it promotion exams or superb confidential reports one has to fulfil before being promoted to the next rank. That also improved the system, not only for the officers, but also for the ORs. This meant that certain units were expanded; for example, [General] Headquarters, the [Military Academy and] Training Schools. The expansion allowed for rank to go with the various appointments. Promotions meant less frustration in the system.96

The commission’s assessment of the state of affairs in the barracks and its recommendations revealed to the PNDC the seriousness of the condition of the military. Additionally, the commission’s recommendations had pointed to the problem areas of the armed forces, including discipline and ranking. Moreover, the recommendations provided the regime with a document to base its arguments on for the transformation exercise.97 The commission recommended the elimination of bottlenecks in the promotion system, which in the past had led to disobedience, as juniors hoping for quick promotions had the impression that their seniors were obstructing their career progression. Furthermore, although my interlocutors will contest this view, Hutchful (1997b: 258) suggests that the PNDC avoided using promotion as a reward system. My interlocutors argue that it is admirable that Rawlings resisted the temptation to promote himself, as he did not want to be accused of orchestrating a coup for personal gains in the form of a higher rank.98 However, various colleagues who collaborated with the PNDC were rewarded handsomely with appointments that were usually accompanied by high ranks.99 The commission’s recommendation of introducing a promotion system with clear promotion criteria was outlined to reduce frustration100 and indiscipline, as everyone in the military would know the conditions to be fulfilled for promotion. This system eliminates the argument for a soldier to complain that he is being blocked by a senior.101 After the appointment of General Quainoo and measures such as the installation of the Erskine commission, calm gradually returned to the Ghanaian military barracks. The PNDC replaced General Quainoo with the highly regarded General Winston Mensah-Wood to preside over the Ghana Armed Forces (ibid.: 260). This choice also marked a shift from

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the rough, rigid emphasis on discipline of General Quainoo to a more social, almost gentlemanly, human-centred approach to military discipline. In line with the movement towards recognizing international human rights in post-1992 Ghana (Donnelly 1993; Quashigah 2007), the Ghanaian military started to incorporate ideas of human-centred approaches to command; the so-called ‘human face philosophy’, a term used by the Ghanaian military. This human-centred approach to running a military will be treated in-depth in Chapter 4. My informants contend that the appointment of General Mensah-Wood marked the beginning of the ‘human face philosophy’.

NOTES 1. Interview with Maj. Gen. A. (rtd), 1 May 2014, Accra, Ghana. 2. In the 1960s, 1970s and 1980s, to have control over Ghana, coup leaders had to exert control over the GBC, Castle or Flagstaff House and, of course, Burma Camp, the main military barracks. 3. Interview with Lieutenant Colonel K. (rtd), Accra, Ghana (6 January 2014). 4. Interview with Brigadier General W. (rtd), Accra, Ghana (8 January 2014). 5. Interview with Colonel D., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (25 June 2014). 6. Interview with General A. (rtd), Accra, Ghana (1 May 2014). 7. Interview with General A. (rtd), Accra, Ghana (1 May 2014). 8. Interview with Lieutenant Colonel A., Accra, Ghana (19 May 2014). 9. Ibid. 10. Interview with Colonel D., Accra, Ghana (5 July 2014). 11. Ibid. 12. Ibid. 13. Interview with General A. (rtd), Accra, Ghana (1 May 2014). 14. Interview with Warrant Officer Class I. D.B., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (28 April 2014): Soldiers admit that there were excesses in this period. ‘There were innocent officers who had done nothing to anyone or abused anyone, but because some ORs had targeted Officers’ Quarters, every officer they met was a target. However, in some cases, the good officers were spared – i.e. some were tipped off that something was going to happen.’ 15. Interview with Warrant Officer Class I A., Michel Camp, Tema, Accra, Ghana (15 May 2014). 16. These events were not reported in the media in Ghana then, so I have to rely on people’s recollection of this incident. 17. Interview with Commodore S., Tema, Accra, Ghana (11 September 2014). 18. Informal conversation with Lieutenant Colonel Y., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (31 March 2014). 19. Interview with Brigadier General A. (rtd), Accra, Ghana (8 January 2014).

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20. Interview with ex-Warrant Officer Class I A., Kaneshie, Accra, Ghana (4 December 2014). 21. Interview with ex-Warrant Officer Class I A., Kaneshie, Accra, Ghana (4 December 2014). 22. Interview with General L. (rtd), Accra, Ghana (24 April 2014). 23. Interview with General A. (rtd), Accra, Ghana (1 May 2014). 24. Ibid. 25. Interview with Commodore S., Tema, Accra, Ghana (11 September 2014). 26. Ibid. 27. Interview with Warrant Officer Class I A., Accra, Ghana (15 May 2014). 28. Ibid. 29. Interview with General A. (rtd), Accra, Ghana (1 May 2014). 30. Interview with Commodore S., Tema, Accra, Ghana (11 September 2014). 31. Interview with Commodore S., Tema, Accra, Ghana (11 September 2014). 32. Ibid. 33. Interview with Commodore S., Tema, Accra, Ghana (11 September 2014). 34. Interview with Brigadier General A. (rtd), Accra, Ghana (8 January 2014). 35. Ibid. 36. Ibid. 37. Ibid. 38. Ibid. 39. Interview with General A. (rtd), Accra, Ghana (1 May 2014). 40. Ibid. 41. Ibid. 42. Interview with General A.L. (rtd), Accra, Ghana (1 May 2014). 43. Interview with Lieutenant Colonel O. (rtd), Accra, Ghana (12 February 2014). 44. Interview with Lieutenant Colonel M. (rtd), Accra, Ghana (13 February 2014). 45. Informal conversations with soldiers and officers of the 64 Infantry Regiment and Armoured Reconnaissance Regiment (March and April 2014). Interview with Brigadier General A. (rtd), Accra, Ghana (8 January 2014). 46. Interview with Brigadier General A. (rtd), Accra, Ghana (8 January 2014). 47. Ibid. 48. Ibid. 49. Ibid. 50. Ibid. 51. Ibid. 52. Ibid. 53. Ibid. The Brigadier General contends that this system was chosen to avoid resemblance with the President’s Own Guard Regiment (POGR), which was established by Dr Kwame Nkrumah, Ghana’s first President. The POGR also operated in a parallel system like the FRB and 64 Infantry Regiment. The POGR was a contentious and divisive issue in the Ghana Armed Forces in the 1960s (see Baynham 1978a, 1978b; Gutteridge 1985; Howe 2001). 54. Interview with Brigadier General A. (rtd), Accra, Ghana (27 November 2014).

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55. Ibid. 56. Ibid. 57. Interview with Lieutenant Colonel D., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (8 September 2014). 58. Ibid. 59. Interview with Lieutenant Colonel D., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (23 December 2014). 60. Interview with Lieutenant Colonel H., Tamale, Ghana (5 August 2014). 61. Ibid. 62. Ibid. 63. Ibid. 64. Ibid. 65. Ibid. 66. Ibid. 67. Interview with General A. (rtd), Accra, Ghana (1 May 2014). 68. Interviews with Lieutenant Colonel O. (rtd), Accra, Ghana (12 February 2014), Brigadier General A. (rtd), Accra, Ghana (8 January 2014) and Colonel A. (rtd), Accra, Ghana (4 January 2014). 69. Ibid. 70. Ibid. 71. Ibid. 72. Interview with Colonel A. (rtd), Accra, Ghana (4 January 2014). 73. Interview with General A. (rtd), Accra, Ghana (1 May 2014). 74. Interview with General A. (rtd), Accra, Ghana (1 May 2014). 75. Ibid. 76. Ibid. 77. Interview with Brigadier General A. (rtd), Accra, Ghana (8 January 2014). 78. Opponents claim that this measure was also used to eliminate dissidents from within the ranks. In addition, it was an unfair measure, as some officers, for example, had to flee for their lives in the chaos that ensued after the coup and were thus unable to return on time. Besides, the PNDC regime could have been a little more flexible in applying this directive by reviewing the cases of the officers who returned later, to establish whether they indeed had reasons to go into hiding. Further, the PNDC government suspected that some serving soldiers had contact with dissidents in neighbouring countries who were against the regime and were going for training exercises with the dissidents to overthrow the regime. In the early 80s, Ghana’s economy was struggling and transportation was a problem. This meant that the soldiers who supposedly were conniving with the dissidents were unable to return to the barracks on time. Thus through this mechanism, these soldiers were eliminated. (Interviews with Brigadier General A. (rtd) and General A. (rtd), Accra, Ghana (11 April and 1 May 2014). 79. Interview with ex-Lance Corporal A. and ex-Sergeant Y., Accra, Ghana (December 2014).

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80. Interview with a retired intelligence officer, Accra, Ghana (January 2014). 81. Ibid. 82. Interview with ex-Warrant Officer Class I K., Accra, Ghana (November/December 2014). 83. Informal conversations with members of the Boys’ Company and retired officers in Accra and Kumasi (December 2014). 84. It must be noted that soldiers from the Boys’ Company in the course of the 1980s orchestrated a number of countercoups in an attempt to dislodge the PNDC government. 85. Interview with General A., Accra, Ghana (14 February 2014). 86. Interview with Major A. (rtd), Accra, Ghana (22 December 2014). 87. Various interactions with members of the SS’74 Association. El Wak Stadium, Accra, Ghana (14 December 2014). 88. Ibid. 89. Interview with General A. (rtd), Accra, Ghana (9 January 2014). 90. Ibid. 91. Interviews with Major A-A. (rtd), (ex-) Warrant Officer Class I R., (ex-) Private O.A., ex-players of SS’74, Accra, Ghana (December 2014). 92. Ibid. 93. Ibid. 94. Interview with ex-Warrant Officer Class I D., Accra, Ghana (7 March 2014). 95. Interviews with ex-Boys Company Soldiers: ex-Warrant Officer Class I K., Accra, Ghana (6 January 2015) and ex-Chief Warrant Officer A.Y., Kumasi, Ghana (14 January 2015). 96. Interview with Brigadier General A. (rtd), Accra, Ghana (8 January 2014). 97. Interview with Colonel D., Accra, Ghana (5 July 2014). 98. Interviews and informal conversations with retired officers at the Retired Commissioned Officers Club, Accra, Ghana (various moments between December 2013 and January 2015). 99. Ibid. 100. Decalo (1975: 251) points out that post-independence African militaries due to their miniscule sizes generated grave promotion bottlenecks for junior officers anxious to imitate the meteoric rise of the preceding generation of officers. These bottlenecks could also be found in the Ghanaian military system, and the Erskine Commission addressed these issues by recommending clear-cut promotion criteria. 101. Ibid.

✫ c ha p te r 2

On Hierarchy and Trust ‘Monkeys Play by Sizes’

ierarchy and trust form a tandem that is at the foundation of interactions and (professional) relations in the Ghanaian barracks. Central in the previous chapter were factors that converged for everydayness, military order, hierarchy and discipline to collapse in the Ghanaian military. This breakdown concretely translated into a temporal collapse of hierarchy. Additionally, my informants note that prior to the critical events (Das 1995), communication between officers and ORs was poor. The breakdown of hierarchy exacerbated an already vulnerable relationship, eventually leading to a complete lack of trust in the barracks. In this chapter, I illustrate that for the transformation process of the Ghana Armed Forces to be initiated, hierarchy and trust had to first be restored, fostered and nurtured. That is because trust (and mistrust) mediates the relationships between various actors in the military environment. By zooming in on the element of trust in these relations, I show how hierarchy and trust are not only mutually co-constitutive but in their convergence produce everydayness of interactions in the barracks. Military institutions are bureaucracies known for their hierarchical arrangements (Weber 1946). However, while hierarchy is usually only understood as a bureaucratic structure (Janowitz and Little 1974; Soeters, Winslow and Weibull 2006), ethnographic engagements with the military organization reveal that hierarchy, much in line with Dumont (1970 [1966]), is a social constellation that includes values such as loyalty, respect for rank, respect for authority, discipline and integrity. In addition to specific practices of establishing hierarchy in organizations, such as the Ghana Armed Forces, hierarchy manifests itself in material cultural attributes (uniform and rank insignia) and immaterial expressions, such as trust. The first half of this chapter explores how hierarchy is exercised, expressed and maintained in material and immaterial military culture in

H

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the contemporary Ghanaian military but also in the everyday practices of military life, with the dramatic performance of hierarchy in the Ghanaian barracks as illustration of hierarchical practice. The second part features trust – i.e. the interaction between the various actors within the hierarchical setting of the Ghana Armed Forces and eventually how these interactions generate (or degenerate) trust among military actors. Finally, I analyse how hierarchy and trust converge in relations within the military barracks.

Theoretical Perspectives on Hierarchy Sociologists Janowitz and Little (1974: 43) characterize soldiering as an institutionalized life in which a soldier’s professional life is regulated by the armed forces. At the same time, the military operative is fully oriented towards this bureaucratic organization that emphasises hierarchy, rules and regulations (Soeters, Winslow and Weibull 2006: 241). Additionally, ‘hierarchy simply means that every lower office is under the control and supervision of a higher one and, in this sense, the military institution is per definition a comprehensive and dominant hierarchy’ (Janowitz and Little 1974: 43). In the military’s hierarchical universe, soldiers at the various institutional levels are under the command, control and supervision of a superior. The essence of sociological conceptualizations of hierarchy is the administering of people at the work place, thus administrative principles can be applied to examining the ‘skill structure’ (Janowitz and Little 1974: 44) or the ‘specialization of the task among the group’ (Simon 1946: 53). Hierarchy, moreover, operates in the rank structure ‘by arranging the members of a group in a determinate hierarchy of authority to evaluate their functioning’ (ibid.: 53). The management and evaluation of the people who form the hierarchy should be under the leadership of a small selected group of people (ibid.). The military has its rank structure in which it arranges people, while its leadership is handled by a selected few; the officer corps (Huntington 1957; Janowitz 1960; Janowitz and Little 1974). The military operates a hierarchical system in which rank and skill structures are important elements. The Ghanaian military in this sense is no different. However, after the breakdown of everydayness and military order in the barracks, the re-establishment of formal hierarchy in order to initiate the transformation process would have been insufficient because soldiers would not have adhered to it without values attached to it. When hierarchy broke down in the Ghanaian barracks, for the military to return to functioning, it also needed to be rebuilt institutionally but also

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restore interactions between soldiers and officers. The military is a human institution in which people interact with each other on a daily basis. In the field, it became clear that to explain my findings adequately, I will have to include the human perspective on hierarchy. Hierarchy is a lived practice within bounded parameters. Hierarchy here entails the chain of command but with an emphasis on a set of values that the soldier learns, internalizes and expresses. This point has only recently started gaining currency on the research agenda of military culture, which associates the military as an object of study with ‘subconscious convictions, ideas, interpretations and norms that are taken for granted’ (Soeters, Winslow and Weibull 2006: 238). To account for the values dimension in conceptual terms, I draw from Louis Dumont’s (1970) conceptualization of hierarchy as a value-based system of social stratification. The Ghanaian military and the Ghanaian society share the fundamental feature of hierarchical structure because both institutions are authoritative systems. When one is considered a junior in the social system in terms of seniority or social status, one is discouraged from contradicting seniors or superiors (Nukunya 2003). These parallels inform and intersect with the values at play in the barracks.

Military Hierarchy Hierarchy is not only an arrangement but also a practice. The annual military party WASSA (West African Soldiers Social Activity (Aboagye 1999: 63) offers glimpses into the practice of hierarchy and shows that military hierarchy in the barracks is always present, even at a supposed festive gathering like the WASSA, where soldiers are supposed to enjoy themselves and feel ‘free’. At the 2014 WASSA for officers and men and civilian employees and their families at the General Headquarters (GHQ) of the Ghana Armed Forces, an army informant drew my attention to the arrangements of the festive environment. ‘If you look around, you see that monkeys play by sizes.’1 My informant employed this image when he assured me that – like in the world of monkeys and apes, in which animals of similar sizes interact with each other while the rest stay away from the leaders and stronger ones – the military and its hierarchical organization operate in similar modes. At first sight, the WASSA seemed an informal gathering. However, as long as an event is organized by the military, the informant assured me, it always harbours formal elements, thus the soldier has to be watchful and navigate pitfalls. Hence, at WASSA, hierarchy was constantly felt and reproduced. A quick glance around the festive ground showed that the

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square had been arranged in a hierarchical fashion; thus with ranking in mind. Around the square, the colourful yellow, red, blue and green canopies had not only been arranged according to the various directorates (such as legal, education) and services (army, navy, and air force) but the arrangement of chairs under the canopies also followed a particular order. The sofas on the first three rows, I observed, were stuffed and comfortable. Behind them, less comfortable chairs were eventually substituted by rows of plastic chairs. In fact, the director generals, who are Brigadier Generals, were seated on the comfortable sofas, sometimes accompanied by their guests of honour or their seconds in command (2iCs/directors/deputies), who are Colonels. Around the director generals were seated their staff, who were also arranged hierarchically from officers to ORs. At the edge of the middle of the square were the ‘high table’ dignitaries, such as the Minister for Defence, Chief of Defence Staff (CDS) 2 of the Ghana Armed Forces, Chief of Army Staff (COAS), Chief of Naval Staff (CNS) and Chief of Air Staff (CAS), the Inspector General of Police (IGP) and heads of various security organs. From this position, the dignitaries had a panoramic view of the various commanders and other subordinates. At the same time, the high table was positioned so that the subordinates could observe events on the high table. One of the reasons for that, according to my informant, was that no subordinate could start eating or drinking (at least not openly) before the CDS and his guests had toasted and started eating and drinking themselves. Equally, after the official programme with speeches from the Chief of Staff and the Minister for Defence, the CDS, IGP and the minister took to the dance floor; ‘to open the dance floor’3 accompanied by invited female naval officers from various directorates ‘to support them’.4 The expression of hierarchy in the physical arrangement of the seating further led soldiers to behave, I observe, in a particular way towards their superiors. The senior officers seated on the front rows were served food and drinks by their staff. However, the service was provided with the upmost caution; it seemed to me that the subordinates were afraid of making a mistake or drawing attention to themselves. It seemed that the personnel hid behind their leaders, as all the attention was channelled towards the senior officers. Soldiers are aware that at such a gathering, their actions are being closely monitored not only by their superiors but also the world outside the barracks. The presence of the Minister for Defence, for instance, attracts media attention. The soldiers try not to attract any negative attention that could affect them personally or the military. Even at festive events where the lines between formal and informal behaviour are at times obfuscated, hierarchy is still the modus operandi, and the soldier is expected to know

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his place in the hierarchical setting and behave accordingly. Generally, misbehaving at events where senior officers and dignitaries are present is a dangerous moment in hierarchical terms for the soldier because misbehaviour is visible to everyone, including one’s superiors. On a higher level, it adds more pressure because misbehaviour could reflect negatively on the image of the military institution. In the words of an informant, ‘a soldier must always compose himself, also during social events. He needs to protect his rank and the dignity of the [Ghana] Armed Forces.’5 While the soldier at WASSA is supposed to make merry, he must operate in an environment of strict hierarchical codes feverishly monitored by the military and reproduced, especially in the presence of dignitaries. If a soldier should misbehave he will ‘be dealt with severely’.6 A soldier attending gatherings such as WASSA exposes himself to many behavioural pitfalls, as any possible misbehaviour would not only be internally observed but could also be seen by the wider Ghanaian society due to the presence of the media. That explains why soldiers at such events are strictly monitored either by a colleague, or an SNCO, or the Military Police, or even by an officer: so that, should the need arise, the soldier misbehaving can be removed from the sight of the dignitaries or be corrected before the soldier’s actions escalate. This way, behaviour deemed proper by the military is enforced, while hierarchy is enhanced and maintained. Although the WASSA is a specific military event, it gives us a glimpse into the formal and informal ways in which hierarchy is lived, expressed and even performed in the barracks. As shown in the ethnography, the arrangement of the seating, and even the physical elevation of the high table, expresses the values ascribed to certain persons and their positions in the military. Additionally, the fact that others are referred to as guests of honour and dignitaries, again indicates the importance attached to certain people in the hierarchical setting. Moreover, the Ghanaian military value hierarchy highly and will go to great lengths to preserve it, not only for the public in the barracks but also in the eyes of Ghanaian society.

Material Military Culture: Uniform and Ranks as Symbols of Status and Triggers of Behaviour In addition to the spatial representation of hierarchical relationships at events, such as WASSA, hierarchy materializes in the uniform and attributes, such as rank insignia. As material expressions of hierarchy and authority in the barracks, these items prompt military etiquette. A hierarchy

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of status develops due to differentiation based on ranks carrying certain responsibilities, authority and privileges (Dearborn Spindler 1949: 85). Thus, differentiating between officers and ORs is not only to emphasize hierarchy but also to illuminate responsibilities, authority and privileges due to one’s place in the hierarchical arrangement. All this is made visible through military personnel’s uniforms. In the words of Pfanner (2004: 94), ‘the uniform reflects order and discipline and calls for subordination by displaying a variety of insignia including badges that indicate rank and emphasize the hierarchical structure of armies.’ Joseph and Alex (1972: 719) emphasize that the uniform identifies group members as soldiers because ‘the uniform becomes the group, and it, rather than the group, is often the focus of thought and affect’ (ibid.: 720). On the organizational level, the uniform ‘helps ensure that organizational goals will be attained, and orders priorities of group and status demands for the individual’ (ibid.). The uniform is not just a piece of cloth sewn together. It has high material, cultural and, not least, emotive and symbolic value to military operatives; it represents the soldier as well as the military institution. My interlocutors illustrate their affection for the uniform in the following terms: We have earned the right to wear the uniform. We didn’t go to Makola7 to buy it [the uniform]. We earned it by either passing out from the [Recruit] Training Centre or by commissioning from the Ghana Military Academy [and other officer training schools]. The uniform is not for sale! You earn it!8

The uniform is a fundamental aspect of being a soldier; an important identity marker. It is also almost a sacred item, although not particular to the Ghanaian context. That is obvious from the manner in which soldiers touch their dress while talking about how they struggled to become part of the military establishment and their earned right to wear their uniform. All informants I spoke to about the value of the uniform claimed that that right was earned through hard work, with a lot of sweating and suffering at the hands of merciless, sometimes ‘sadistic’, military trainers and seniors at the Recruit Training Centre or the Ghana Military Academy (GMA).9 My interlocutors note that during the breakdown of everydayness and military order in the Ghanaian barracks, even though ranks and hierarchy were not respected, the uniform still seemed sacred. ‘The uniform still commanded respect and soldiers had to behave well in uniform, although some of us did not behave very well towards civilians.’10 However, after the initiation of the transformation process, the values that the uniform and rank represent were united once again because ‘soldiers started to behave as they have been trained’,11 and the values asso-

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ciated with the uniform and rank were reinstalled for the change process to take off. Crucially, the soldier’s outfit also expresses hierarchy. Hamilton (1986: 118) asserts that people who operate in hierarchies are allocated special responsibilities and in some cases as a result are awarded their own uniform that not only reflects these responsibilities but also illuminates the authority vested in them. Equally, Craik (2003: 131) observes that uniforms and attributes attached to them can designate status within a hierarchical setting. Craik (ibid.: 128) notes that uniforms are ‘extremely effective indicators of the codification of appropriate rules of conduct’, while military etiquette is triggered by the depiction on the rank insignia (Freeman 1949: 79). The insignia is a determinant of behaviour, as it exhibits a soldier’s place in the hierarchical setting and thus how one should be treated. How soldiers approach and interact with each other depends upon the insignia that they are carrying on them (Finkelstein 1994: 219–23). The Ghanaian military has uniforms allocated only to officers and a particular class of SNCOs. The so-called ‘Service Dress’ (Aboagye 1999: 72), previously the ‘No 1’ (ibid.) and, in the case of the navy, the ‘No 2 Service Dress’,12 for example, can only be worn by officers and SNCOs from the rank of Warrant Officer Class I and their equivalents in the navy (Chief Petty Officer Class I) and air force.13 To distinguish further between officers and a certain category of men, only officers and Warrant Officers Class I in the air force are allowed to wear toe-tip shoes.14 In short, not all officers and not all men are equal. By wearing designated uniforms, officers and SNCOs exhibit their exclusiveness and ‘privileged’ position in the hierarchical pecking order, thus excluding juniors and others. In addition to this differentiation in uniforms, there is more complexity to how uniforms express military hierarchy. Particular items codify relationships and allow people to see where they stand and how they are supposed to relate to others in the system. That is why the military makes the effort to ‘demonstrate’ to every newcomer what each item signifies. The Ghanaian soldier has the following attributes at his disposal to depict his place in the military system: lanyards, belts, headgear (caps/berets), badges of rank and shoulder flashes (which symbolize relations of hierarchy and authority). Again, Colonels and Generals wear a different badge in front of their berets and caps to distinguish them from the rest. Further, Aboagye (1999: 71) asserts that it is the prerogative of Colonels and Generals to wear ‘worsted cap badge’, while all others put on an ‘anodized badge’. In addition, this group of officers attach the so-called ‘gorget patches’ to their collars; red for the army, blue for the air force or gold for the navy.

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Contrary to the officer who carries his rank on his shoulders, the OR wears his rank on his sleeves. However, in the navy, as the rate rises through the ranks, his rank insignia – i.e. the badge – moves from the sleeves to the collar. The chief petty officers wear their ranks on the collars of their uniform. This is an expression of hierarchy, as this separates the petty officers from the junior ratings. Additionally, at the apex of the naval rates ranking system is the fleet chief petty officer. He wears his rank on his chest to the left.15 In the army and air force, on the other hand, as the soldier progresses in the military system, his rank moves from the sleeve to the right wrist.16 The rank of the ORs in the air force and the army are stripes; the emic term deployed by my interlocutors for them is ahoma (Akan language for rope). However, the Force Sergeant Major (FSM)17 has the rank of Chief Warrant Officer (CWO). The ranks of sergeant majors of the Ghana Army and the Ghana Air Force are Master Warrant Officer (MWO), while their naval counterpart is Master Coxswain. The Regimental Sergeant Majors (of the battalions, regiments and units) are Senior Warrant Officers (SWOs). These positions are very senior managerial positions in the OR corps, and the positioning of the ranks on the shoulder is done to depict hierarchy and distinguish between the top of the OR corps and the rest. Similarly, the naval officer is symbolized by the ‘the Lord Nelson’s or executive curl’,18 the air force officer by the ‘wings and stripes’19 and the army officer by the so-called ‘pips’ (pronounced peps) (Aboagye 1999: 64). In short, the different designated uniforms, the berets/caps, the position of the rank and specific footwear reserved for particular ranks are depictions of hierarchy. These attributes are important in the Ghanaian military because this material culture triggers military etiquette. Military etiquette dictates specific behaviours attached to these attributes, and these behaviours and interactions are expressions of military hierarchy. Adherence to expressions of hierarchy therefore produces expected behaviour and interactions in the barracks. Dumont (1970 [1966]) argues that values have meaning in the social realm and in the relationships between humans. The material cultural attributes, such as rank insignia, represent values such as courage, authority and responsibility that the military and soldiers give meaning to as they express themselves through these attributes. Additionally, the given value and meaning dictate particular actions and behaviours to soldiers. Janowitz and Little (1974: 51) note that the military rank system is a pyramid structure with straightforward, direct and clear-cut lines of authority. The officer has authority over the OR because of the authority vested in him. And in the hierarchical setting, the officer is positioned per defi-

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nition above the enlisted man. This relationship between hierarchy and authority is displayed in the chain of command (ibid.). Jaffe (1984: 33) notes that the chain of command is a metaphor for social relations; it is used as a measure of loyalty to the military institution. She points out that ‘the concept of chain of command is both actuality and ideology: it is reification of the military structure of authority, responsibility and control’ (ibid.). In view of this, the rank has to be visible to the observer for it to activate the intended behaviour. Apart from the rank’s visibility, its position is also relevant to trigger the hierarchical association it symbolizes for the soldier. The following quote illustrates the symbolism of the rank of the officer and the etiquette the rank triggers: Once he wears pips on his shoulders, he is your superior. Even if it is your own child, you have to pay appropriate compliment. The pip means he has the presidential commission, thus represents the Commander-in-Chief.20 If you disobey the officer’s orders, it is like disobeying the President who awarded him the commission. So it is not about the one wearing the pips but what he represents that matters. Officers are saluted because of the Presidential commission they have received.21

In short, the office and the authority the officer represents (Caforio 2006: 12), and the symbol he represents, are what matters. The material culture is embedded with values, but they only make sense in the social realm because others attach these values to them. For instance, at the GHQ of the Ghana Armed Forces and its environs in Burma Camp, a substantial number of high-ranking officers (Colonel for the Ghana Army, Group Captain for the Ghana Air Force; Naval Captain for the Ghana Navy and Generals) work here. That is visible through the attachment of the so-called ‘gorget patches’ to their collars. The Ghana Armed Forces is a relatively small military of about 13,000 operatives. And in such a small force, reputations and stories travel far and wide. Some officers are considered nuisances because they are known to, under the aegis of upholding the high standards of appearance prescribed by the Ghanaian military, look for faults on soldiers when they meet them. During my fieldwork, I was talking to a group of young soldiers (in their military trousers, boots and green T-shirts) cleaning up the environment of the GHQ. The moment the soldiers spotted a particular high-ranking officer, who was known to be a nuisance, the soldiers pretended to be extremely busy. However, as he got closer, they stopped their chores to pay him compliments as a token of respect. He received the compliments, stopped and started slowly approaching them. The officer stood for a few minutes chit-chatting while his eyes scanned the

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bodies of the soldiers. After about two minutes, he left without saying a word. After this episode, one of the young soldiers burst into laughter. I asked him why he was laughing. He said: ‘This is Colonel so and so. He is troublesome! Did you see how he was inspecting us? Always looking for trouble for others.’ In unison, the soldiers laughed and continued with their chores. The above descriptions show that soldiers attach value to the material cultural attributes (the gorget patches) of the senior officer. It is in these interactions that material culture gains meaning. The gorget patches are an expression of military hierarchy as these separate senior officers from the rest of the officer corps and ORs, thus illuminating their position at the top of the military organization. Additionally, the function of the gorget patches shows the authority vested in and the responsibilities of the senior officers. The young soldiers are familiar with the value, the meaning and the function of the material cultural attributes (gorget patches) and thus respond upon seeing them on the senior officer; they triggered a prescribed military etiquette or behaviour. However, in the description, there is also a subtle resistance to this particular officer due to his reputation as a nuisance. The soldiers make fun of their superior behind his back. This generates solidarity among the men, which confirms their status (as underdogs) and position within the hierarchy. In a similar situation, three soldiers are standing near the entrance of Burma Hall. A high-ranking officer, identified by his red gorget patches, is approaching them. The three soldiers stand up straight, feet together, arms on the side of the body and chest out. As they were just about to raise their arms to salute, the officer signalled to them to forget about the etiquettes. He got closer and had a small interaction with the soldiers: ‘Gentlemen, relax, relax! Good afternoon! How are you doing? How is the family?’ They responded: ‘Fine, sa!’ The officer wished them a good day and continued his journey. The above ethnographic descriptions depict the value people attach to the material military culture in the barracks and how both officers and ORs relate to them. In the first example, the perception the soldiers have of this particular officer generates, although subtle, a form of resistance to accord him the necessary military etiquette. However, he is still accorded the prescribed military etiquette but not wholeheartedly. In the second ethnographic example, due to the officer’s relaxed approach to the soldiers and his taking an interest in them, the men appreciate him more. The men wholeheartedly accord him the required military etiquette. Furthermore, the gorget patches only have meaning to those socialized to recognize them as items that have a particular meaning and represent particular values (courage, loyalty, competence, discipline). The

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gorget patches have meaning within a specific social universe with specific values. For an outsider, like me, the gorget patches do not bear any particular meaning. Through my informants, though, I learned that these items represent very high ranking officers and that this category of people required special treatment. In this case, the meaning the soldiers attached to these material cultural attributes is what gives them value and reproduces hierarchy because the juniors accord the senior officer the prescribed military etiquette. In doing so, they confirm their place in the hierarchy. The following sections examine immaterial cultural expressions and relations (re)producing hierarchy in the everyday.

Immaterial Military Culture: Permeations with Ghanaian Codes of Sociability Hierarchy as Seniority The previous section illustrated how soldiers’ behaviour in the hierarchical setting of the military organization is informed by their position in this arrangement, which is depicted through their rank insignias and other military attributes, vis-à-vis the other soldier or officer. Central in this section of the chapter is the importance of the complicated phenomenon of ‘seniority’, one of the pillars supporting the hierarchical organization of the Ghanaian military. Seniority in the Ghanaian barracks is an important determinant of one’s position in the hierarchy. Seniority is a tool for producing hierarchy because it arranges soldiers in a particular order. This, Dearborn Spindler (1949: 85) asserts, is further ‘sustained by complicated social ritual and clearly defined social distance’ or through socially complicated rituals (such as saluting) in the barracks, which confirm and reaffirm a soldier’s position in this environment. Halbe (2011: 320) notes that lower-ranking soldiers are required to salute or, according to my interlocutors, ‘pay appropriate compliment to your superior’,22 to exhibit one’s loyalty to his superiors and the military institution. The sight of the attributes and insignia signals to the soldier that the one approaching is either his superior or subordinate and triggers behavioural mechanisms to accommodate the required military etiquette. Gamst (2001: 21) defines seniority as a ‘social mechanism that regulates social relations’. In addition, seniority has to do with an individual’s affiliation with, in this case, the military (Bascom 1942: 37). When a person B joins the military before person A, B is senior to A. This is necessary, according to my interlocutors, for the bureaucratic organization that the military is to function effectively because the military system is arranged in such a manner that there always has to be a leader to lead

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troops.23 Gamst (2001: 21) points out that seniority regulates the allocation of scarce prerogatives among employees in a group and protects their monopolistic advantage against all persons outside of the group, as well as giving group members rights and duties. Seniority in the Ghanaian barracks is indeed accompanied by privileges and responsibilities. According to my informants, when there are opportunities for courses or travel abroad, these are very prestigious and sometimes lucrative opportunities for a chosen few; the senior will be considered first. ‘However, when there are problems at the office, the senior will be held responsible for lack of leadership.’ 24 Conversely, seniority is one kind of social linkage constraining actions and engendering social order (ibid.). All my interlocutors know exactly who their superiors and subordinates are. The superior can simply be someone with a higher rank or a person who occupies an office of higher authority, such as the RSM. Unlike the rank insignia, the regimental number is invisible to the outsider. Nonetheless, every Ghanaian military operative knows his service number. According to an informant, ‘if there were to be a roll call at the barracks on the Parade Square, every officer, and every man would know exactly where to stand because of his regimental number’.25 This unique number is not only an identifier but also one of the determinants of his position in the hierarchical arrangement. Generally, a soldier can ‘senior’ his colleague because he entered the military service before his colleague was recruited or enlisted. At the very least, all things being equal, the soldier’s regimental number determines his seniority. Normally, the lower an officer’s or a soldier’s service number, the higher his seniority in relation to his mates. There are exceptions as well. For the ORs, a soldier’s junior can at some point bypass a senior because he is promoted over him.26 Once the OR loses his seniority, it is virtually impossible to regain it. Once a junior becomes senior, he will always be senior, as the OR’s seniority also starts from the date he is awarded his rank.27 So, if soldier C is a junior who becomes senior to B, C will be promoted Sergeant first, before B. Only if soldier C gets into, for instance, disciplinary trouble and is punished, and as a result is demoted, can B become senior again. Ranking and appointments are also elements that determine a soldier’s seniority, thus his position in the hierarchy. Ranking and appointments, as will become clear, can hence mess up the seniority arrangement in a unit (consisting of between 250 and 1,000 officers and men). Say, for example, there are four Warrant Officers at a unit – all mates from the same course and who graduated on the same day from the Recruit Training Centre – and there is a vacancy in the unit’s RSM. These soldiers will be

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competing with each other for this office. Since there can only be one RSM at the unit, after a vigorously long selection process and hours of deliberation, the most junior of the group will be elected the unit RSM. The most junior of this group (based on his regimental number) through this appointment becomes the most senior; his mates have to take orders from him because he will be promoted to Senior Warrant Officer.28 The situation is slightly different for officers. In the past, officers could enlist with secondary school certificates. When a cadet joined with a university degree, the one who entered with a secondary certificate would commission a Second Lieutenant, while the graduate overtakes a Lieutenant, thus taking seniority29 over his mate due to his higher rank.30 Furthermore, there are officers who are commissioned Captains as a result of their professional or technical knowledge, such as lawyers, doctors and architects. This group of officers take seniority over most of their mates and others who are commissioned Second Lieutenants and Lieutenants. Another configuration could be that an officer loses his seniority through disciplinary measures. Officers cannot be stripped of their ranks but can instead lose their seniority. An officer’s punishment could range from losing between six months to two years of seniority depending on the gravity of the committed offence. That would mean, for example, that until the rank of Lieutenant Colonel, he would always be promoted later than his mates. An officer, my interlocutors note, can also temporarily lose seniority when he is not passing his promotion examinations from, say, Lieutenant to Captain, while his mates have already been promoted. They temporarily become his seniors because they have a higher rank. However, the moment the officer passes his exams and is promoted to Captain, his seniority is backdated31so he takes back his seniority. Accordingly, officers can also permanently lose seniority. This could, for instance, happen when an officer exhausts the number of opportunities available to him to pass his promotion examination. In the Ghanaian context, the officer is promoted automatically from Second Lieutenant to Lieutenant after a year and a half in service. However, in order for the Lieutenant to be promoted to Captain, he has to take a promotion examination. A Lieutenant and a Captain have four and five chances, respectively, to pass the promotion exams. It is important to note that, for instance, should a Lieutenant exhaust all his four possibilities but pass his exams after his fifth attempt, he loses his seniority permanently.32 Finally, the Ghana Armed Forces Regulations (1960: 30) state that an officer always takes seniority over the OR, or the officer is always senior (superior) to the OR. A young officer informant put it this way: ‘In the civil world an older man would take decisions for me, but in the military the

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older man is my subordinate and he has to wait for me to give him orders. That is what the military says.’33 The military hierarchy’s disconnection from biological age contradicts the hierarchical arrangement within kinship and other social networks in the Ghanaian cultural context. This is expressed in the following quote. In our society, young people have to listen to older people. They have to obey and show them respect. However, in the military things are a bit different. The officer, because of the powers vested in him through his commission, he can be very young, but we the ORs have to obey him. It is sometimes difficult and painful but that is how it is. In our society, he will not have the authority to speak to, say, a WO [Warrant Officer] who is fifty years old, but in the military there are other rules. The officer, young or old, he has to be obeyed by the ORs, period! The symbolic meaning of the pip is huge.34

On the work floor, seniority arrangements in which officers per definition take seniority over ORs can generate tensions between officers and men. I observed that older SNCOs had difficulties with taking orders from especially young officers. This is particularly prevalent with SNCOs who have served for more than fifteen years. This category of soldiers expressed difficulties taking orders from a Lieutenant and, in some cases, even from a Captain. The OR informants argue that these officers have recently entered the military system and are yet to learn the military trade and thus are less experienced than the SNCOs. That is why they believe ‘young officers have no business giving SNCOs orders’.35 However, refusing an order from a young officer is not an option for the SNCOs, due to the potential problems a refusal of an order could generate.36 Although the SNCO, an informant observed, cannot refuse an order, he could resist by delaying the execution of the order by ‘playing lasie, lasie37 or using delay tactics’.38 Concretely, if he is asked to, for example, gather men to whitewash the compound before the end of the day, by the end of the day the task will still not have been undertaken. Perhaps, even at the end of the second day as well. This signals to the young officer that the SNCO does not want to execute the given order. The officer has the following options: warn him, force him or ask someone else to execute the order. In this section, I have presented the role of seniority as an important phenomenon in determining the position of every military operative in the hierarchical arrangement of the barracks. After the breakdown, hierarchy had to be reinstated in order for the military leadership to be able to initiate the transformation process. Hierarchy in the barracks only works when all its determinants are in place and those who experience the hierarchy abide by the determinants. Although seniority is not visible to the outsider, it is always present in soldiers’ actions and behaviour as

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they are constantly on the lookout for events that spark behaviour based on one’s position in the hierarchy.

The Unit as a Family In the Ghana Armed Forces, the unit – the place where the soldier performs his professional duties39 – is viewed as a family40 (Loomis 1996; Winslow 1997) with a lot of different family members performing various tasks and duties. This is also a place where the everyday practices of hierarchy are observable and experienced by my informants. I present an ethnography to provide insight into the tasks performed by soldiers on an average day at the Armoured Reconnaissance Regiment (hence Recce) and the everyday practices of hierarchy, in which the roles of the ‘mother’ and ‘father’ of the unit are important. It is a Monday in April. The soldiers of the unit have just returned from ‘Orientation’, which refers to the five-week preparation training Ghanaian soldiers undergo before embarking on peacekeeping missions. The unit already has most of its personnel on the United Nations Mission in Liberia (UNMIL), as the regiment forms the nucleus of the deployed soldiers. The acting RSM organizes a small parade for about thirty men, in which he welcomes them ‘from the bush’. The RSM, a tall man with a sturdy posture, stands in front of his men and tells them that there is a lot of work to be done at the unit. The soldiers have their specializations – driver/signaller or gunner/ signaller – and are usually deployed on guard duties at night at the unit, where they could be on sentry, be a duty driver or participate in operations that demand that they go on (night) patrols within or outside the barracks, in the city (such as the GBC). However, today they are assigned extra in house chores. The soldiers are divided into two groups under the leadership of a Sergeant, and the overall supervision is in the hands of a Warrant Officer Class II, who reports to the RSM. The weapons in the armoury, the soldiers are told by the RSM, have not been disassembled, cleaned and oiled for a while and thus it needs to be done. This task is awarded to a group of fifteen soldiers. The rest are assigned to clean and dust the offices of the Administration Block. After the distribution of assignments and tasks, the soldiers ‘fall out’ – i.e. disperse. The area around the guardroom is freshly painted in the unit colours (yellow, red and black), and the green grass in the vicinity is carefully cut. The area is bustling with soldiers in camouflage trousers, boots and black and or green T-shirts. They are moving boxes of machine guns, assault rifles and other military hardware from the armoury to the porches and surrounding area. The air is pregnant with engine oil, used in ridding

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the weapons of rust. Three hours later, the overall supervisor enters the RSM’s small office.41 He informs him that the tasks have been completed. The unit (for the army for example) is viewed as a family (ibid.) with multiple mothers, but there is only one supreme father. Similar to Dumont’s conception of hierarchy (1970 [1966]: 20), like families, units have leaders who are associated with particular values, such as responsibility for subordinates, leading by example and integrity. The mothers are the various Sergeant Majors – that is, at the battalion level there are four Company Sergeant Majors (CSMs) who are responsible for distributing, among other things, instructions to the ORs in the company. Apart from the CSMs there could also be the Squadron Sergeant Major (SSM) of the Recce Regiment, responsible for men who operate armoured vehicles. Equally, the Regimental Sergeant Major (RSM) or the Base Coxswain (navy) or the Base Sergeant Major (air force) are viewed as mothers of their various institutions.42 Due to their roles as mothers of the unit, RSMs have an open door policy so that soldiers with problems can come to them for relief. Family members of soldiers are also welcome to approach the RSM for advice and assistance at all times. That is why the RSM is considered the ‘mother of the unit’. Analogous to the Ghanaian mother, the RSM is an influential figure in the lives of its ‘children’ or soldiers. Quan-Baffour (2009: 264) asserts that the power of Ghanaian mothers over their children is huge because not only do they provide for their children’s material needs, such as food, shelter and clothing, but they also guide, advise and, where necessary, help them solve their problems (ibid.). In the Ghanaian culture, when children have difficulties or problems at school, at home or in the family, the first person to call upon is the mother (ibid.). In addition, the mother runs the household and the daily affairs of the house. These are also the roles performed by the various Sergeant Majors.43 Apart from solving welfare problems of his soldiers, the RSM also, among other things, allocates the soldiers the duties that they are to perform. When a soldier has a problem, one way he could go about finding a solution is first to report his concern to the platoon Warrant Officer (class II). If he cannot solve it, the platoon Warrant Officer forwards the issue to the platoon commander. In the event that none of these superiors are able to solve the problem, the issue is sent on to the officer commanding (OC) or company commander. When at the company level, the issue cannot be solved, the matter is forwarded to the battalion or regimental headquarters where the RSM, second in command (2iC) and eventually the CO will find a solution to the soldier’s problem. This is the chain of command at the unit level.44

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Contrary to the RSM, the CO is the overall leader who manages the unit. He has the most authority and, similar to perceptions of the father’s role in Ghanaian families, is considered to be the father of the unit. Adomako Ampofo, Okyerefo and Pervarah (2009: 64) point out that Ghanaian society still remains a very ‘patriarchal’ culture in which fathers wield, or are expected to wield, ultimate authority over their households. They add that because men usually have economic control over their households, they exercise social control over the entire family (ibid.). The CO is the only Lieutenant Colonel and the most senior officer of the unit. Analogous to the Ghanaian society, where fatherhood and seniority are important aspects of masculinity, the CO is usually affectionately referred to as ‘the old man’, ‘oluman’ or akokura (Akan language for ‘old man’), due to his status. Miescher (2005) notes that the term to designate to a person ‘who is a figure of authority’, or ‘of rank’ is opanyin (Akan, ‘elderly person’). It is a position that one earns through maturity, and it is an honourable position, which is not permanent. An elderly person designated opanyin can also lose this status through misbehaviour (ibid.). Similarly, the CO can lose his command if he is recalled from his tour (due to, for example, complaints of incompetence, loss of authority, changes in the political landscape). However, it is my observation that the CO is usually a distant father figure of the unit who is highly regarded and admired by his subordinates, not only because of the authority vested in him but also because of his achievements and reputation prior to his appointment as CO. According to an informant, a CO revered by his SNCOs will successfully wield ‘authority over the unit’.45 In the previous sections, the material (uniform, rank insignia) and immaterial representations of hierarchy (seniority) were presented. I have also drawn parallels to the roles of the Ghanaian mothers and fathers to that of the RSM and the CO respectively. These elements are important in the everyday lived experience of hierarchy. In the final part of this chapter’s first half, the focus will shift to the dramatic performance of hierarchy. After the breakdown of everydayness and military order in the Ghanaian barracks, the dramatic performance of hierarchy in which emphasis was laid on authority, and most importantly on soldierly values, became a fundamental stepping stone in the transformation process of the Ghanaian military.

Performances of Hierarchy Jaffe (1984: 32) asserts that the idea of performance is at the very heart of any military consideration. The institution invests a lot of time and

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attention in ceremonies, rituals and imagery but also the staging of hierarchy and authority because the nature of military life is such that most acts are public and dramatic (ibid.: 33). The Ghana Armed Forces is no different. Prior to the breakdown of the everydayness and military order, the enactment of authority was performed as part of the everyday. After the breakdown, the visible dramatic performance of hierarchy became extremely important, as that was an instrument to influence soldiers’ behaviour and change their attitude. For instance, every unit General Quainoo visited in this period, the CO organized a meeting with officers and ORs where a performance of military hierarchy and authority was staged. The General, surrounded by officers, dramatically displayed the hierarchy and authority he expected to see implemented at the various battalions and regiments. After that, he and the officers at the regiment positioned themselves in front of the men and addressed both officers and ORs. In his address, according to my interlocutors, General Quainoo emphasized the soldierly values instilled in them at the Recruit Training Centre and at the military academies. These values are: a soldier operates in a hierarchical environment, under the authority of a superior. A soldier, he always reminded them, lived by rules and respected the rank. In any case, soldiers who did not adhere to these values ceased to be soldiers; they became rebels. ‘He made them aware that he would not allow a military under his command to turn into a collection of rebels. No professional soldier likes to hear that.’46 The following excerpt from my fieldwork diary highlights the dramatic performance of hierarchy and authority at a durbar at Recce Regiment (Figure 2.1)47 and an illustration of the reproduction of soldierly values in recent times. It is a sunny morning at Gondar Barracks. The heart of the regiment, Abugah Square, is clean. The white armoured vehicles featuring the United Nations logo (because the vehicles are used for UN peacekeeping missions) are neatly parked next to each other. On the right side of the square are the volleyball and basketball pitches, which are located just behind the guardroom. At the opposite end, the durbar is held under the Sabre Shed. Most of the ORs are already present at the venue. Some are sat with their mobile phones, while others are chatting with their colleagues. There is excitement in the air, as soldiers expect to receive answers to burning questions. It is about half an hour till the meeting when a Warrant Officer Class II Y with a pace stick stuck tightly under his armpit, uniform firmly starched, clean shaven and boots shining like a mirror draws the attention of the soldiers present. He shouts slogans and the unit’s greetings. He shouts, ‘Ahooooo!’ and the men respond: ‘Ahoyaya!’ He gives

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Figure 2.1. Armoured vehicle at the entrance of Recce Regiment. Photo by the author.

it another go: ‘Ahooooo!’ They respond: ‘Ahoyaya!’ He continues with ‘Irons!’ and the men respond: ‘Fear Naught!’ He stands at attention and asks all soldiers who are not ‘warranted’48 to take a seat. Every soldier sits where he is supposed to sit. The arrangement of the seating is as follows: Warrant Officers on the front row, followed by Staff Sergeants, Sergeants, Corporals, Lance Corporals and Troopers.49 After the soldiers have taken their seats, the Warrant Officer commands them: ‘Sit up! Sit easy! Sit up! Sit easy!’ This is done a couple of times. This is an exercise, I am told, to assert his authority over the men and prepare them mentally for the meeting with the head of the unit. Furthermore, he takes them through what is deemed proper behaviour at a durbar. For example, before the soldier asks a question, he must put on his beret, salute, greet ‘Irons, sir!’ then recite his regimental number, rank and name before proceeding to ask the question. After the question, the soldier must salute before sitting down. Prior to the arrival of the commander rear (in this case because the Recce Regiment provided the headquarters of the UNMIL Ghanaian Battalion (GHANBATT) 19), which meant the CO of the unit was in Liberia and was replaced by the commander rear), the RSM comes to the

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meeting venue to check whether his men are well-prepared and ready for the occasion. The moment the RSM arrives at the meeting venue, all the soldiers stand up in acknowledgement of his authority. After a quick exchange of salutes, the RSM turns his attention to Warrant Officer Class II Y; he takes over from him and instructs the men to recite the National Pledge. Not long after the pledge, the officers of the unit arrive just before the commander rear at the durbar. Everyone stands up to salute them. The Captain, the senior most OC, takes over from the RSM. The OC hands over the proceedings to the commander rear. The officers face each other and exchange compliments. The OC informs him that the men are ready for the meeting. The commander rear thanks the OC, takes over from him and asks the men to sit. The officers are seated in front of the men – that is, facing ORs. The commander rear, a Major, is seated in the middle, with the adjutant (Lieutenant) who is taking minutes to his left and the two other officers (a Captain and a Lieutenant) to his right. The durbar opens with correspondence from the GHQ (which concerned unwarranted behaviour) and continues with matters concerning the Regiment’s expectation of disciplinary standards. After half an hour, the commander rear steps back. The RSM stands up, puts on his beret, places his pace stick firmly under his armpit and salutes the commander rear. He then opens the floor for comments, questions and observations. The soldiers with questions follow the script of the performance as prescribed by the Warrant Officer before the arrival of the commander rear. There are many questions concerning soldiers’ welfare, such as water supply and trash collection at their residences. After an hour, the commander rear leaves for another meeting at the General Headquarters. However, before he leaves, another performance ensues. He stands up and puts on his headgear. The moment he gets up, all his men also stand up and put on their berets. The Major moves away from behind his desk to stand face to face with the officer next in line, the OC of the 1 Recce Squadron. The officers exchange salutes, and the commander rear hands over the meeting to him. After the handing over performance, the OC seeks permission to ‘carry on!’ The commander rear grants permission and leaves for his next engagement. Half an hour after the commander rear’s departure, the Captain signals to the RSM that it is to time close the meeting. After exchanging compliments, the officer hands over to the RSM. Not long after that the RSM instructs his men to disperse. This excerpt illustrates how hierarchy and authority are performed in the barracks as part of the soldiers’ working life. The RSM, who is much older than the commander, in his dealings with his superiors displays the values and behaviour expected from soldiers. The RSM, the senior most

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man of the ORs, leads by example by exhibiting the expected behaviour in accordance with military etiquette. The RSM’s leading behaviour is to be followed by his subordinates, therefore producing military hierarchy. Furthermore, the excerpt shows how the continual reproduction of hierarchy is not an automatism but requires significant efforts. Prior to the performance of the hierarchy and authority at the durbar, the setting has to be prepared so as not to generate any confusion. The chairs are hierarchically arranged in order of rank; higher ranking soldiers in front and lower ranking soldiers to the back; the officers are seated opposite the men. After the stage is set, the soldiers are instructed on the script to be followed for the dramatic performance of hierarchy and authority. Soldiers are instructed on how to behave in the presence of their commander, on the procedure to follow before asking a question and on how to behave after the question has been asked. These are not only behavioural prescriptions but also reminders of the soldiers’ place in the hierarchal setting; the kind of behaviour and etiquette that is expected of him by his superiors but also what he can expect from his subordinates. If all soldiers follow the prescribed script, not only is hierarchy and authority in the barracks established and reproduced50 but so is – gradually – the everyday character of it (De Certeau 1984). However, hierarchy is also a human interaction, thus certain situations call for flexibility and adjustment. For instance, in the field, I spent ample time in the office of a key informant. I observed that any time a soldier came to his office, he followed a script; namely, he knocked and then was allowed in. The moment he entered, he would salute the officer (greet the officer: ‘Irons, sir!’, for example) and the officer would respond. After that, the soldier proceeded to tell the officer why he came to see him. After the soldier had received a satisfactory answer, he would salute before leaving the room. However, I realized after a while that the unit adjutant and the RSM did not pay compliments whenever they entered the room. The informants explained to me that when these two people come to the regiment, they first report to the commander and greet him. Throughout the day, they are exempted because they work very closely together; if the RSM or the adjutant was to salute every time any of them entered the office, they would spend half of the day paying compliments to the commander. The same also applies to soldiers and officers who work very close to the leadership of the unit because they go in and out of the offices regularly throughout the day to present drafts of letters, to have letters signed, to deliver messages or to have cheques signed. In short, in the everyday practices of hierarchy, in the Ghanaian barracks, there is a bit of flexibility depending on rank, position, task and working relationship between the officers and men involved.

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Trust The paragraphs above dealt with the re-establishment of formal military hierarchy with an appeal to soldierly values and what that means and how it functions. A crucial function of hierarchy is to generate trust through triggering expected behaviour, while in turn, trust not only holds relationships in the barracks together but also strengthens hierarchy as the expected behaviour is reproduced. Trust is fundamental for militaries. For armed forces to function properly and efficiently, the personnel need to trust each other. My interlocutors in describing their interactions with their colleagues, subordinates and superiors, but also with the political elite and Ghanaian society at large, constantly referred to trust. In the coming sections, I briefly present what trust entails and how this relates to the presented data but will not engage in elaborate reproduction of current debates in the field of trust, as this is beyond the scope of this endeavour. Secondly, I present the state of trust between officers and men prior to and at the beginning of the transformation process. I then show how trust is gained and how it can be lost in the barracks and eventually how trust and hierarchy are co-constitutive.

Theoretical Perspectives on Trust The injection of trust into the Ghanaian barracks is a fundamental element in the transformation process. Trust is perceived as the adhesive that holds society and societal relations together, as without it society will fall apart (Simmel 1950). Hardin considers trust to mean ‘we believe you have the right intentions towards us and that you are competent to do what we trust you to do’ (2006: 47). This is the ‘encapsulated interest view of trust’ (ibid.), which is grounded in the assumption that a potentially trusted person has an interest in maintaining a relationship with the person that trusts them, an interest that gives the potentially trusted person an incentive to be trustworthy (ibid.). In the case of officer–OR relationships, ‘encapsulated trust’ (ibid.) concretely entails that both parties trust in each other’s competences to execute whatever is demanded to achieve the constitutionally mandated goals. Both officer and OR are motivated to be considered trustworthy because they depend on each other’s skills and knowledge; for the officer that means providing leadership and for the OR executing the orders on the ground, in order to achieve the goals of the mission. An officer of the rank of Lieutenant with the task of commanding a platoon commander is expected to have certain expertise and compe-

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tences that allow him to execute his task in an expected manner. When the Lieutenant commands his platoon successfully, not only does he gain the trust of the soldiers under his authority but also his peers and superiors. The Lieutenant’s success strengthens his authority vis-à-vis his men and in turn leads them to trust him and accept his command, therefore producing hierarchy. Jones (1996: 7) notes that competence need not only be technical in nature. When we trust a friend or a family member, ‘the competence we expect them to display is a kind of moral competence and . . . to understand loyalty, kindness, and generosity’ (ibid.). This is also applicable to the military, as it is a human institution. Sometimes military operatives are bereaved. When, for example, a soldier loses a parent, the commander of that soldier is expected to visit him to express his condolences and show sympathy for the soldier’s loss; the soldier thus can expect his superior’s support. The exhibition of support meets the soldier’s expectation and generates trust but also strengthens hierarchy because the bereaved soldier acknowledges the authority of his commander and in turn is acknowledged as a subordinate. It is important to note that in the Ghanaian context, funerals, outdoorings and marriages are import life-defining events. It is thus crucially important that a lot of people attend them. Therefore, the superior attending represents support rather than etiquette, not least because he represents a body of people. This is highly valued and represents moral competence, which in turn generates trust between employee and employer (Adjaye 2004) because this tells the employee that he is valued as a human being and not just as a labourer. Moreover, trust is a relational concept (Hardin 2006: 20), as all soldiers are involved in a variety of relationships as colleagues, men, subordinates and superiors, who live and, especially, work together. In all these constellations, there is someone who trusts and the trusted involved. The trust relationship, we can say, is transactional; trust is generated through interactions but can also be lost. In the end, relationships in the barracks still involve humans. Jones (1996: 4) asserts that ‘trust is affective’, as personal relationships sometimes develop between officers and men. An informant, a mid-career officer, told me that he spent a large portion of his early career with his platoon in the ‘bush’. In this period, deep personal relationships developed between him as the lone platoon commander with some of his men.51 That is why he wants them to prosper in whatever they do and he does not want them to be harmed while conducting their duties.52 This example shows how in the military profession, with its particular level of risk involved, trust plays a crucial role in maintaining the everydayness

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of the hierarchical system. Because the work of a soldier is also highly dependent on collaboration between colleagues, especially in battle situations, trust reduces uncertainty faced by soldiers (Shamir et al. 1998; Adams and Webb 2002). Trust is thus relational and dynamic.

Trust at the Beginning of the Transformation Process Baier (1986: 234) notes that most people recognize a lack of trust easily when it is withdrawn or breached. ‘We inhabit a climate of trust as we inhabit an atmosphere and notice it as we notice air, only when it becomes scarce or polluted’ (ibid.). This situation has implications for social interactions. Despite the restoration of hierarchy after the breakdown of everydayness, relationships in the barracks remained brittle and tense. According to an informant, when officers reported for duty in this period, they barely interacted with ORs. Gradually, a sense of normalcy was coming to the barracks. But some of us were still wary of the men. The events were still fresh in our memories. Some officers came to work and hid in their offices.53

As a result of the assassinations of the naval officers and the Base Coxswain, officers avoided contact with ORs or had little interaction with them. This concretely meant that officers were not commanding and leading their men, thus they were not doing their jobs. Our leadership heard that officers were not interacting with the men. General Quainoo was angry so he went around holding officers’ meetings. He told officers to start doing what they are paid for.54

Trust between officers and men at this stage was still feeble, due to the critical events (Das 1995), thus the General encouraged more interactions between officers and men. He demanded officers to show leadership. On the one hand, practices such as officers using men for non-soldier tasks, such as washing and cleaning their uniforms or cooking food, were discouraged by the military leadership. The General’s tough approach to managing his officers, although this had negative implications for some officers, who were dismissed, resounded with the ORs. The ORs’ trust in the leadership of the military institution grew because the men considered the General impartial or, in any case, not biased towards officers, an informant tells me. In short, the military leadership’s tough approach paved the way for interactions between officers and men, while demanding that officers undertake trust-generating activities with their men.

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Person-Based Trust While it is obvious that trust is a crucial element in soldiering, the notion of trust and military service is not adequately addressed in the literature; except by Winslow (1999b), on the special forces, and Adams and Webb (2002), on trust in small military units. This section deals with person-based trust and category based-trust, which are useful for explaining trust in the Ghanaian barracks. Adams and Webb define person-based trust as ‘a hierarchical process, in which our views of others become increasingly elaborated as we accumulate information about them’ (ibid.: 4). The more we know about others, ‘the easier it is for us to predict their behaviour, and that reduces the risk and uncertainty involved in a trust relationship and makes one less vulnerable to negative and unpredicted results’ (ibid.). Predictable behaviour is what the Ghana Armed Forces aim to generate within the barracks. During the breakdown of everydayness and military order, soldiers’ behaviour had become unpredictable, resulting in attacks, torture and killings. By initiating the transformation process, the military aimed to engineer predictability, as this generates trust because the expected behaviour materializes. Furthermore, building and nurturing trust is a long-term project ‘through progressive stages as relationships become more elaborated and independent, and is typically seen as reaching a more stable but constantly dynamic level as relationships mature’ (ibid.: 5). Solomon and Flores (2001: 15) note, ‘trust is historical, but it is not so much tied to the past as it is pregnant with the future’. That means we trust based on past experience and predict or expect a favourable outcome in the present and in the future. The generation of trust but also investments in trust relations today form the foundation for future trust relations. A commander who proves to be trustworthy today can expect to reap the benefits of that trust tomorrow because it is likely that his subordinates will still associate him with trustworthiness. Today’s trust determines tomorrow’s reaction and outcome. At a higher level, after resuscitating military order after the breakdown of everydayness, and encouraging trust to germinate between officers and ORs, the transformation process could be initiated to galvanize relations within the barracks. In this section, I examine the relationship between officers and men and wherein this interaction trust is gained or lost. Officers of the Ghana Armed Forces, my informants note, have leadership competencies55 and are trained to be leaders of their men.56 According to my interlocutors, trust is gained when the officer’s men recognize that the officer is competent and takes care of their needs, as this communicates to them that he ‘understands his job’.

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Adams and Webb (2002: 3) note that the military is the ultimate arena for trust issues due to the high level of risk, vulnerability and uncertainty involved in the profession of arms. An informant formulated it as follows: ‘You have to look after your men very well because you understand and appreciate their needs. You also ensure that their families are well looked after. Then you can get them to do what you want as a commander.’57 The commander can gain the trust of his men by ensuring that their worries, such as family issues, are taken care of, and other needs, such ration, or pay and accommodation, are catered for. The soldier should have no concerns; ‘his mind should be clear of worries so that he can completely focus on his tasks.’58 The officer who addresses the concerns and needs of his men gains their trust. Hardin (2006: 3) notes that one is likely to trust someone who has given evidence of being trustworthy; he has a trustworthy reputation. However, trust is not only about reputations, it is also about reciprocating the exchange (Ben-Shalom, Lehrer and Ben-Ari 2005: 73). Similarly, that is also the case with the officer in relation to the men under him. An officer with a track record of looking after his men is likely to be trusted by them. Equally, an RSM who is known to take good care of the welfare and family issues of the men under him will also be trusted by his subordinates. The soldiers will consider him a trustworthy partner with a reputation of taking care of his men’s welfare. In contrast, the officer who does not take care of the needs of his men and who is viewed as a career-driven, selfish man who does not care about anyone but himself will not gain the trust of his men. ‘If your men don’t trust you, you will know because they will not get close to you. In the field you will always be alone.’59 Trustworthiness is a reputation that is built over years, evidenced in the following ethnographic vignette: You see our second in command (2iC)? He is a good officer. He commissioned from Sandhurst [Royal Military Academy Sandhurst]. Over the years, he has proven to us the men that he understands soldier work. He is always ready to help you. He is disciplined. He is respected by everybody here. We also admire him for how he carries himself.60

In the above vignette, the reputation of the officer had grown gradually over the years. It is important to note that although he commissioned from the prestigious Royal Military Academy Sandhurst, he still had to prove to his environment that he is a worthy alumnus of this military academy. Over the years, at the regiment, he had proven through his behaviour, work ethics, commitment and open door policy towards his men that he is not only to be respected because of his rank but also because of his reputation as a trustworthy officer.

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Another important aspect of officership is ‘knowing your men’ so that you can serve them and deploy them accordingly.61 In General Dwight Eisenhower’s 1944 speech to Royal Military Academy Sandhurst graduates (published in ‘Serve To Lead’ handbook for officer cadets), he reminds the new officers of their responsibility to their men but also of their obligation to know them: You must know every single one of your men. It is not enough that you are the best soldier in that unit, that you are the strongest, the toughest, the most durable, and the best equipped technically. You must be their leader, their father, their mentor, even if you are half their age. You must understand their problems. You must keep them out of trouble. If they get in trouble, you must be the one to go to their rescue. That cultivation of human understanding between you and your men is the one art that you must yet master and you must master it quickly.

My interlocutors assert that knowing one’s men is a trust-generating act because an officer then not only knows their strengths and weaknesses but, based on this assessment, will also know how to deploy them accordingly. Moreover, knowing one’s men will also require the officers to take an active interest in their private lives. According to my interlocutors, the officer has to find out whether the individual soldier is, for instance, married and has children, and if he has a family, whether he is taking care of them. This concretely translates into soldiers (and their families) soliciting the assistance of their superiors. I have witnessed on numerous occasions an officer receiving the spouses of soldiers to resolve private matters on their soldiers’ behalf, and these were not isolated cases. Equally, if one of his men is sick, the officer is expected to know62 so that he can check on him and, where necessary, support him. The officer should also know which of his men is likely to bring trouble for him to solve.63 When the officer takes an interest in the affairs of his men and helps them overcome their problems where he can, he will gain their trust. The officer, in other words, must not only know his men professionally but also privately and socially. At the same time, the officer getting to know his men also means that his men get to know him as well; it is a reciprocal process. According to an interlocutor, the officer allows the soldiers insight into his private life by inviting them to his home, attending their big life festivities and socializing with them besides the highly symbolic act of sharing food.64 Trust harbours an element of expectation (Jones 1996: 8). When we trust someone, we have the expectation that the one trusted will be directly and favourably moved by the thought that someone is counting on their cooperation for a positive outcome in their interaction (ibid.). An

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informant formulated it as follows: ‘Treat your soldiers equally and not discriminate or give nice jobs to your friends and the unpleasant ones to those you don’t like. Be firm with all soldiers.’65 By meeting the expectation of the soldier, the officer gains trust because he has exhibited that he can be trusted to be fair, firm and not be biased. Adams and Webb (2002: 11) point out that ‘[m]embership in categories related to rank, gender, age, service experience and even seeing a person as belonging to a specific regimental unit all have the potential to affect the emergence of category-based trust’. One may also trust the RSM for the mere fact that he occupies that office and is expected to be competent because of his service years and authority. A unit soldier expects to be assisted by the RSM when he calls on him in difficult times; when the RSM succeeds in helping him solve the problems, the trust between the soldier and the office of the RSM will grow. One can also be trusted for being a member of a certain unit. For example, one of the elite units of the Ghanaian military is the Airborne Force (ABF), besides specialized units, such as the Recce Regiment or Artillery Regiment. ABF is a unit with strict selection criteria for its members; soldiers selected for this unit are deemed fearless and excel in physical fitness,66 while the other two units select people with technical knowledge because of the technical nature of the duties to be performed.67 The high level of fitness or technical competence can serve as a foundation for trust. Being a member of an elite or technically competent unit may generate trust but more is needed. According to Ben-Shalom, Lehrer and Ben-Ari (2005: 72), esprit de corps usually relates to the unit’s military traditions cultivated and nurtured over a long period of time. Personalized interactions between unit members can foster trust and strong esprit de corps: At ABF, we are always on detachment duties with our soldiers; we train with them, we eat with them and we are almost all the time in touch with them. We know them, they know us and we are very close. We have an open door policy as officers.68

Once again, trust is developed over time and in practice. Trust also develops in everyday practices because it is important as this is where bonds are formed. Baier (1986: 232) notes that it is fairly obvious that any form of cooperation, including the division of labour, requires the co-operators to trust one another to do their bit. However, because in military teams soldiers depend on each other’s competence and skills in ‘a wide variety of high risk, high tempo, mentally and physically demanding situations’ (Adams and Webb 2002: 9), soldiers need to trust each other almost blindly. Ben-Shalom, Lehrer and Ben-Ari (2005: 74) argue that elite units generate this level of trust because the soldier’s reputation but also that

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of the unit is at stake. Thus, the trust soldiers have in their colleagues and the unit is strengthened.

Exceptions, Dilemmas and Boundaries of Trusting Officers and soldiers have to adhere to the rules and regulations guiding the military hierarchical system. Beyond the formalities, soldiers’ everyday reproduction of expected behaviour generates trust. That is because the soldier is exhibiting predictable behaviour that may be viewed as trustworthy. However, the relations in the barracks can also go sour and affect trust and trustworthiness negatively as was the case during the breakdown of everydayness and military order in the barracks. The following example illustrates how delicate trust is. In peacetime, the officer administers his men on a daily basis.69 He plans and organizes their exercises70 and takes care of their soldierly needs. When a serving soldier dies, it is the task of the unit to inform the military high command of the loss of the soldier. An informant explained the procedure: The adjutant, because he is the personnel officer, on behalf of that unit informs Directorate of Personnel Administration [DPA] about the death of the soldier. The procedure is fairly routine. The letters for such cases are standardized and have a format.71

However, due to other pressing assignments or time constraints, the adjutant may task a unit clerk to draft this letter for him. The officer may be unable to thoroughly examine the letter and therefore trusts the clerk to do the job properly.72 However, there have been instances where clerks have underperformed by only changing the dates and venues in the letter template and forgetting to change the name on the letter to that of the deceased and sending the letter out to the DPA.73 According to my informants, this is an embarrassing and avoidable mistake. The officer will be held accountable for failing to show good leadership in reporting the death of the soldier.74 As a result, firstly, the trust the officer had in the clerk prior to this blunder will be compromised. The officer from then on will ensure that he double checks letters drafted by this clerk before sending them out to avoid more such humiliation. Secondly, the trust that the officer’s superiors have in him will take a serious blow and could even impact the officer’s career. Mistakes in the Ghanaian military, I am told, are not taken lightly and could end up in the officer’s confidential report. This report is used to judge promotions and appointments.75 Too many mistakes could prove costly as the exciting and challenging appointments will be given to others at the officer’s expense.

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Isaacs, Alexander and Haggard (ibid.) note that there are gradients of lack of trust. They distinguish between distrust and mistrust. Distrust is defined as an ‘absence of assurance and reliance, with the special quality of a certain trustworthiness in the other person’ (ibid.). Distrust reflects a complete lack of trust in the other person. Mistrust, on the other hand, connotes an air of ‘a doubtful, sceptical, uncertain, wariness about trusting another person; that is a tendency toward distrust’ (ibid.). In short, with mistrust, there is not a complete lack of trust, although there is a tendency towards it. My informants contend that the relationship between officers and ORs is ‘cordial’;76 that ‘there is a peaceful coexistence’77 or ‘the situation forces officers to be nice to us’,78 or that ‘because of the nature of our work common sense dictates that we have good relations with each other’.79 But in reality, the breakdown of everydayness, military order and discipline in the 1980s and the ensuing chaos still echo in the Ghanaian barracks. An officer gives this account: When I commissioned in 2001, there were people in the system [ORs] who had served over thirty years. Among them were the people who were involved in the killing of the two officers and the rating at the Sekondi Naval Base on 4 February 1982. These men were pointed out to us. Officers were still afraid of them. They were untouchables.80

The officer–man relationship can be strained at times due to the historic baggage of violence in the barracks. That is because despite nowadays having a forum to express discontent in the service, ORs claim they are not part of the management of the armed forces. Additionally, they are not part of the decision-making process; all decisions are made for them. My OR interlocutors question why they are not allowed to be part of the decision-making process and suspect that they are excluded from this process because officers have privileges they do not want their men to know about. However, there are voices that contest this reading by pointing out that the Forces Sergeant Major (FSM) is the representative of the ORs in the Ghana Armed Forces Council,81 the governing body of the Ghanaian military as stipulated in the Ghanaian constitution. Nonetheless, this situation in which ORs consider themselves to be excluded from the decision-making process is not conducive for the trust relations in the barracks; it rather generates mistrust (Isaacs, Alexander and Haggard 1963: 463). Further, ORs perceive officers to be of a ‘different species; they talk and behave differently from us’.82 The soldier added, ‘they are like lodge people’;83 ‘they are very close’.84 This sometimes leads to mistrust, as ORs believe that the members of the officer corps exclude them with ‘their’ esprit de corps.

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ORs may express being excluded by officers, but within the officer corps, the relationship between young officers and older officers can also be strained as well. The following quote is illustrative of that: When I was a Second Lieutenant, you had OCs at the unit with whom you could not sit and chat or laugh, like you see today. Today you can see Lieutenants chatting with colleague Captains. In my day, that was not common. That is because as a young officer, those above you made life very difficult for you. There were people among them whom for the smallest of offenses will punish you with extra duties and the like. So you basically had to avoid the Admin Area [the Headquarters] for fear of getting into trouble.85

The coups of 1979 and 1981 attracted junior officers to participate, my informants note, precisely because of the division between established and junior officers. The lack of trust between the young and senior officers led to avoidance, thus deepening tensions in the barracks. Young officers missed having solidarity with their superiors.

Conclusion: The Role of Trust in Hierarchical Relations The themes at the heart of this chapter are hierarchy and trust. The restoration of hierarchy after the breakdown of everydayness and military order was an important starting point in the transformation process of the Ghana Armed Forces. In my view, without a well-established hierarchy based on a chain of command and an emphasis on soldierly values, the transformation process of the military could not have been initiated and sustained. That is why the military focused on re-establishing and dramatically performing hierarchy. Presenting hierarchy from the formal bureaucratic perspectives of rank, skill structure or chain of command in the Ghanaian context would have been insufficient. To grasp how the everydayness of hierarchy returned to the barracks calls for the understanding of values (Dumont 1970 [1966]). Through soldierly values and the dramatic performance of hierarchy, the soldier is not only reminded of what is expected of him, in terms of respecting the authority of the superior, the military structures and the military way of doing things, but also where the soldier stands in the hierarchy. The values and chain of command become one for the soldier, as he is made aware that he has to adhere to specific norms if he wishes to be and remain part of the professional armed forces. Hierarchy and trust are intimately related in the sense that a well-functioning hierarchy generates trust. Trustful relations in turn produce and strengthen hierarchy. The transformation of the Ghana Armed Forces

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called for the reintroduction or strengthening of existing norms. On the one hand, when everydayness broke down in the Ghanaian barracks, hierarchy had to be reinstated by appealing to the soldierly values of officers and men, by reminding them of what being a military operative entails. Moreover, unlike a rebel, a soldier has values and is governed and guided by rules and regulations. Further, a soldier always operates under a superior, and a soldier appreciates authority and respects the rank. It is not only important to appeal to soldiers’ values and reintroduce military order, hierarchy also needs to be maintained and embedded in soldiers’ daily practices in order for it to contribute to the transformation process. Moreover, hierarchy and authority performed at military durbars were some of the first measures taken in the bid to reinstate everydayness and resuscitate hierarchy. The dramatic staging of military etiquette reproduces hierarchy but also confirms existing military values and perceptions, while military culture, both material and immaterial, underscores the continual reproduction of these values in the everyday. By restoring the military hierarchy, officers were encouraged to interact more with ORs, show leadership to their men and engage in trust-generating activities in order to foster relations between officers and their men. It was necessary in the Ghanaian barracks to encourage trust to grow while generating hierarchy, and predictable behaviours are continuously reproduced. Trust is produced through hierarchy, and in turn hierarchy is consolidated by trust. The likelihood of the system being overthrown or collapsing is lower when soldiers trust the system to reward them for their hard work. To conclude, trust and hierarchy have a lot to do with expected behaviour – i.e. reproduction of predictable behaviour. The military’s conscious effort to stimulate the growth of trust within the barracks is an important cog in the transformation process. Trust is a fundamental aspect of human interactions, as it galvanizes and soothes human relations within and outside the barracks. Trust and hierarchy are, in the Ghanaian case, the first conditions that had to be satisfied for the transformation process to commence and grow within the barracks.

NOTES 1. I was a guest of the Directorate of Public Relations. The statement is from an informal conversation with Sergeant G. (16 January 2014). 2. The Chief of Defence Staff of Ghana Armed Forces is a Vice Admiral; equivalent to Lieutenant General. All the soldiers, except their aides, at the high table were Major Generals (or equivalent).

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3. Informal conversation with an anonymous officer, Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (16 January 2014). 4. Ibid. 5. Informal conversation with Warrant Officer Class II F., Accra, Ghana (16 January 2014). 6. Informal conversation with Warrant Officer Class I D., Accra, Ghana (16 January 2014). 7. Makola is a big market in the heart of Accra, Ghana. It is the second largest market in Ghana. 8. Interview with Staff Sergeant H., Michel Camp, Tema, Ghana (8 May 2014). 9. Informal conversation with Sergeant T.; Warrant Officers Class II Y., S. and M.; Lieutenants A. and D.; and Captains A. and A., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (14 – 17 March 2014). 10. Interview with Brigadier General A. (rtd)., Accra, Ghana (8 January 2014). 11. Ibid. 12. Interview with Chief Petty Officer Class I A., Tema, Ghana (5 November 2014). 13. Interview with Warrant Officer Class I R., Accra, Ghana (7 March 2014). 14. Interview with Warrant Officer Class I D., Accra, Ghana (5 May 2015). 15. Interview with Chief Petty Officer Class II A., Tema, Ghana (16 June 2014). 16. The Warrant Officers Classes II and I wear a wrist band with the national emblem on it. My informants tell me that it is on the right wrist because that is the hand the soldier uses to salute his superiors. 17. He is the head of all other ranks in the Ghana Armed Forces. Currently, it is Chief Warrant Officer Owusu Dickson. 18. Interview with Lieutenant Commander K., Burma Camp, Ghana (1 June 2014). 19. Informal conversation with Flying Officer O., Burma Camp, Ghana (10 June 2014). 20. Interview with Staff Sergeant H., Michel Camp, Tema, Accra, Ghana (9 May 2014). 21. Interview with Lieutenant Colonel O., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (13 May 2014). 22. My informants used this term to describe what they are supposed to do when they meet a superior. 23. Interview with Air Force Warrant Officer Class I O., Air Force Base, Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (20 July 2014). 24. Interview with Warrant Officer Class II S., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (18 April 2014). 25. Interview with Captain A.J., Whistler Barracks, Teshie, Ghana (12 March 2014). 26. Explained to me in an interview with Warrant Officers Class I R. and T., Burma Camp, Accra (12 April 2014). 27. Ibid. 28. It must, however, also be noted that in such a situation, the Ghana Armed Forces are ‘known to post soldiers out to other units and appointments or

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29. 30.

31.

32.

33. 34. 35. 36. 37. 38. 39.

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soldiers are retired in order not to create problems with morale within the unit’. This was explained to me by Warrant Officer Class II B., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (March 2014). This was explained to me by Major T.R., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (16 October 2014). However, at a higher rank level the tables could turn. This is explained by an informant. Seniority also comes from the date of promotion as you go to the top and no longer from your regimental numbers. So, if we get up till Colonels, maybe along the way you messed up and you lost your seniority and I was promoted Colonel before you I have taken seniority over you. Seniority is defined in various terms. First, the regimental number. Second, from your date of promotion or your date of commission. So, at any given moment you have somebody who is senior even if you are mates. (ibid.) Officers until the rank of Major are promoted in groups that are usually based on the intakes. However, an officer can lag behind his intake mates because he did not pass his promotion exams on time. Another possibility is that he was sent on a mission or on a course and thus missed his promotion examination. However, the moment he passes his exams, he is backdated to be on par with his intake mates. That way, he does not lose seniority. However, after the rank of Major, the military does not backdate anymore. That is the reason why, for instance, there are Lieutenant Colonels that started their careers four or five years later than some Majors in the military. These Lieutenant Colonels have surpassed their seniors. Interview with Captain A., Whistler Barracks, Teshie, Ghana (12 March 2014). Interview with Staff Sergeant H., Michel Camp, Tema, Accra, Ghana (9 May 2014). Interview with Staff Sergeant A., Michel Camp, Tema, Accra, Ghana (6 May 2014). Interview with Warrant Officer Class I Y., Burma Camp, Ghana (25 June 2014). Lasie, lasie is an emic term for not hurrying up or doing something halfheartedly. Informal conversation with Lieutenant A., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (6 April 2014). A unit harbours between 250 and over 1,000 soldiers. In the Ghana Armed Forces, the various services have their various arrangements at their battalions (or regiments), or bases. For example, the air force is divided into squadrons and wings, while the navy has the divisional system of hierarchy. The naval ship is divided into sections such as gunnery, administration, technical or stores. All these sections are under the leadership of a head or the divisional officer, who is responsible for its functioning. The divisional officer works under the direction of the executive officer. The divisional officer is comparable to a platoon or company commander depending on the size of

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40. 41.

42. 43. 44. 45. 46. 47. 48. 49.

50.

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the ship. The army units of the Ghana Armed Forces at the battalion level are organized in companies. A typical battalion will have five companies, namely Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, Support and Headquarters (cf. Aboagye 1999). Interview with Warrant Officer Class I T., Accra, Ghana (17 April 2014). The many RSM offices I visited were very small (about 4 by 4 square metres) in size, with seating possibilities for five to seven people at a time. The chairs in the offices, I am told by various informants, are meant for visitors to sit on. It is a welcoming gesture to the visitor. The curtains in front of the windows usually bore the unit colours. Further, there were pictures of weaponry, armoured vehicles or armoured personnel carriers in combat positions. Some Sergeant Majors had combat attributes such as helmets on their cupboards. On top of one RSM’s table were various boxes in which he placed letters and other written assignments. At the edge of his table was his pace stick holder with his pace stick resting in it. It is positioned in this manner, I am told, so he can easily grab his pace stick in case he has to hurriedly accompany the CO to meet their men. Interviews with Senior Warrant Officer A., Fleet Chief Petty Officer A., Warrant Officer Class I E., Accra, Ghana (18, 19, 20 March 2014, resp.). Ibid. Various formal and informal conversations in various barracks in Accra, Tema, and Tamale, Ghana (between March and September 2014). Ibid. Interviews with General and Brigadier General A. (rtd), Accra, Ghana (14 February and 8 January 2014, respectively). The durbar or meeting took place on 29 April 2014. I was allowed to observe how a unit durbar unfolds. That is anyone who is not a Warrant Officer. Private Soldiers in Armoured Reconnaissance Regiment are called Troopers, while those at the Artillery Regiment are gunners, and Engineer Regiment are Sappers. At these durbars, apart from the performance of authority and hierarchy, the soldier is also reminded of his place in the hierarchical setting and the values expected of soldiers; for example, through sitting arrangements. The CO speaks in his introduction at the durbar about the demands but also expectations of the armed forces. The commander mentions, for instance, that it has come to the notice of High Command that soldiers are engaged in activities such as armed robbery or land guard duties (sometimes soldiers are used by their superiors, friends, families and colleagues to settle land disputes. The soldiers are requested to put on the military uniform and show up at the site; just to scare the opposing party off) that can be considered unworthy behaviour, thus soldiers should refrain from such activities. The CO also commented on the behaviour he expects from his men. At this durbar the commander rear expressed concern about some men’s attitudes towards each other and that he expected his men to improve their working relations.

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51. Interview with Captain K., Whistler Barracks, Teshie, Accra, Ghana (March 2014). 52. Ibid. 53. Interview with Brigadier General A. (rtd), Accra, Ghana (8 January 2014). 54. Interview with General A. (rtd), Accra, Ghana (1 May 2014). 55. Ibid. 56. Interviews and various informal conversations with instructors at the Ghana Military Academy, Whistler Barracks, Teshie, Ghana (March 2014). 57. Interview with General E. (rtd), Accra, Ghana (21 December 2014). 58. Informal conversation with Warrant Officer Class I T., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (13 April 2014). 59. Interview with Captain K., Whistler Barracks, Teshie, Accra, Ghana (20 February 2014). 60. Interview with Warrant Officer Class I B.D., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (5 April 2014). 61. Interviews and various informal conversations with instructors at the Ghana Military Academy, Whistler Barracks, Teshie, Ghana (March 2014). 62. Interview with General E. (rtd), Accra, Ghana (21 December 2014). 63. Interview with Lieutenant S., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (11 March 2014). 64. This commensality in Ghanaian culture is a highly symbolic act. When a senior shares food with a junior, it underscores the hierarchical relationship, as it symbolizes taking care of somebody. 65. Interview with Captain A., Whistler Barracks, Teshie, Accra, Ghana (12 March 2014). 66. Interview with Captains A. and K., Bawa Barracks, Tamale, Ghana (13 August 2014). 67. Ibid. 68. Ibid. 69. Interview with Lieutenant M., Tamale, Ghana (7 August 2014). 70. Ibid. 71. Interview with Lieutenant Colonel A., (rtd), Accra, Ghana (8 July 2014). 72. Interview with Air Force Warrant Officer Class I D., Air Force Base, Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (6 July 2014). 73. Ibid. 74. Ibid. 75. This example is a situation that happened at a unit during my field study. My interlocutors insist that an officer in certain situations cannot rely blindly on his soldiers. 76. Common description of the relationship between army officers and their men. It must be said that soldiers claim that compared to other countries, such as Pakistan, Bangladesh or India, the relationship between officers and men in Ghana is reasonably good. 77. Interview with Air Force Warrant Officer Class I O., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (5 June 2014).

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78. Interview with Leading Seaman A., Tema Naval Base, Tema, Ghana (7 May 2014). 79. Interview with Flying Officer O., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (7 July 2014). 80. Interview with Lieutenant Commander B., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (10 July 2014). 81. See 1992 Constitution of the Republic of Ghana, page 127. 82. Informal conversation with Staff Sergeant D., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (10 September 2014). 83. In the Ghanaian context, the phrase ‘Lodge people’ refers to membership of the Freemasons. 84. Interviews and informal conversations with soldiers of all ranks, Whistler Barracks, Burma Camp, Michel Camp, Accra, Ghana (March, April, May 2014). 85. Interview with Captain A., Tamale, Ghana (12 August 2014).

✫ c ha p te r 3

On Discipline Disciplining the Body and the Mind

Discipline is the bedrock of our military and, for that matter, every military in the world. Without discipline no army [armed force] can exist. —Interview with Gen. W.A. (rtd), Accra, Ghana (8 January 2014)

s is evident from the informant’s statement, 1 apart from hierarchy and predictability (everydayness), discipline is an important pillar on which the military stands. Discipline is not only an element that holds the armed forces together; discipline is also the practical expression of hierarchy and trust in the barracks through bodily manifestation and the mind. All my informants agree that without discipline a military cannot exist or function effectively. The critical events (Das 1995: 11) that triggered the transformation process of the Ghana Armed Forces rocked the foundations of the military institution, resulting in the breakdown of everydayness and military order. The collapse of military order in the Ghanaian barracks certainly reinvented what it meant to be a soldier back then and what it means to serve now and will most certainly continue to shape Ghanaian military operatives in the future. The magnitude of critical events in the Ghanaian military context is of such weight that it still echoes thirty odd years later in the everyday experience of the military institution. In the slipstream of the critical events, discipline disappeared from the Ghanaian barracks, turning ‘us into a parody of a professional military’.2 The questions at the heart of this chapter are: how did institutional and individual reactions shape the reinstallation of discipline in the Ghana Armed Forces in the aftermath of these critical events? And how do these reactions continue to shape discipline in the Ghanaian military today?

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To restore military order in the Ghanaian barracks, an important measure initiated by the Ghana Armed Forces was the creation of the disciplined soldier subject. I take for granted that despite the collapse of military order and discipline, the soldier subject was still present in the barracks but had lost his disciplinary bearing and sight of his soldierly values. The Ghanaian soldier is a subject of the military institution through a combination of his training and formal instruments, such as military law, the Armed Regulations (Volumes I-IV), as well as through unwritten social rules and discourses that remind him of the importance of ‘doing the right thing’. Since discipline is an important element of soldiering, it was crucial in the transformation process to restore discipline, along with military order, for the project to commence and evolve. The first part features the creation of the soldier subject, followed by a section on the workings of discipline in the barracks. There are two types of discipline: self-discipline and imposed discipline. Self-discipline generally comes from within the soldier, while imposed discipline is directed by an external entity and may be maintained through formal and informal forms of punishment. The last part of the chapter focuses on disciplining the soldier through the discourse of ‘doing the right thing’. The forms of disciplining converge in the creation of the ‘disciplined soldier subject’.

Theories of (Military) Discipline Goffman (1961), categorizes the military as a ‘total institution’ along with prisons, orphanages and mental hospitals (see also Scott 2011) and describes it as a ‘place of residence and work where a large number of like-situated individuals, cut off from the wider society for an appreciable period of time, together lead an enclosed, administered round of life’ (ibid.: xiii). In other words, though not entirely contained, soldiers live and work in barracked environments where the military determines the soldier’s work routines and controls other aspects of the military operative’s life. An important aspect of life in a total institution is acquaintance with the conventions of this environment. ‘The recruit or cadet is gradually introduced to the “house rules”’ (ibid.: 48), which are, according to Arkin and Dobrofsky (1978: 152), the essence of institutional socialization and familiarization that one must undergo to become part of the military establishment: ‘Transitioning from skinned-head recruit through the warrior’s initiation rites’ (ibid.). According to my informants, in the case of the Ghanaian military, these processes materialize in the form of the recruit’s or cadet’s hair being shaven and his civilian clothing being

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confiscated. Furthermore, my informants reiterate that the cadet/recruit upon arrival is immediately issued necessities for his training: military uniforms and sportswear, boots and sport shoes. The two organizations within the Ghanaian military tasked with the creation of the soldier subjects are the Ghana Military Academy (GMA) and the Recruit Training Centre. These institutions have tailored and designed their premises, activities and schedules to the goal of continuously exposing the prospective soldier subject to military ways of doing and values. On the premises of the GMA, between the cadet blocks and the Cadet’s Mess, stands the so-called ‘heaving bar’. According to the Academy Sergeant Major (ASM), ‘the cadet in the first eight weeks of his training is not allowed to walk underneath without heaving [the bar]. He or she must earn the right to walk underneath by heaving at least ten times’. Moreover, the expectation is that after eight weeks of training, the officer cadet will have been familiarized enough with the basics of the house rules, such as appearance, saluting and addressing superiors, and conclude his training by successfully completing the practical exam of ‘passing off square’, which takes place on the Drill Square in the presence of an officer and a drill instructor. The ASM notes that the familiarization of the cadet with the ‘house rules’ is the first step in introducing the prospective subject to military discipline and creating the disciplined soldier subject. It is imperative that the recruit or cadet knows how to interact in and with his new environment by following the rules and codes inscribed in the ‘bureaucratic character’ (Weber 1946: 261) of the military.3 According to an informant, ‘the military is centred on discipline; it is the bedrock, the foundation of every armed force. Everything we do; all our actions, discipline is at its base. Without discipline, there is no army [military]’.4 An officer described discipline as follows: The difference between us [soldiers] and a civilian organization is that it takes discipline to order someone to go and kill another person, a human being. Discipline is what makes a soldier follow this order to go and kill.5

Unlike Goffman (1961), Foucault (1977) does not reduce military discipline to the institutional setting but includes discursive subjection, located within the subject. It is my contention that subjection supersedes rules but includes practices and behaviours such as responding with ‘yes, sir!’ to instructions and orders. In its multilayered nature, discipline is a special type of power (Foucault 1977) that, as expressed in the excerpt, includes the execution of orders such as to kill. History has shown that uncritical execution of orders can be problematic, as demonstrated by Arendt (1963) in connection with the Eichmann case. Therefore, since

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the initiation of the transformation process in the Ghanaian barracks, a small window has been opened for dialogue over orders, conventions and other contributions from the soldiers. The Ghanaian military claims to seek in the disciplined soldier subject a military operative who engages with peers and superiors by asking questions and showing initiative, thus engaging in dialogue based on professional experience and expertise. In other words, although ‘the military is not a democratic organization, soldiers are now allowed to ask questions for clarification’.6 Prior to the breakdown of everydayness and military order, my interlocutors note that it would have been unthinkable for soldiers to engage in dialogue with their superiors or challenge an unlawful order.7 The possibility of dialogue also resounds with the efforts of the Ghanaian military’s human face philosophy, a philosophy introduced into the Ghana Armed Forces by the late General Mensah-Wood. The military leadership prides itself on running ‘a human institute with a human face’.8 The human rights and the personal circumstances of the soldier are taken into consideration in this new approach, resulting in ‘the current crop of soldiers [who] are as a result aware of their rights; that makes it difficult for them to be bullied around’.9 Additionally, currently, before a soldier is sanctioned for an offence, his personal circumstances are considered. This new approach, introduced as part of the transformation process, is considered by critics to be ‘unmilitary’, as they do not believe that dialogue and negotiations are part of soldiering. Moreover, this humane approach, in the critics’ view, produces weak soldiers because it is ‘too soft’ and diluted with human rights discourse.10 However, my informants claim that the human face philosophy is a clear break away from the rough-edged, heavy-handed antics of the soldiers of yesteryear. As the chapter unfolds, we will discover what military discipline entails in the Ghanaian context; how this generates a disciplined soldier subject and how this subject is maintained since the rebuilding of everydayness.

Workings of Discipline and Punishment Discipline in the Ghanaian barracks comes in different forms: self- and imposed discipline, discipline further includes corporeal forms of disciplining, which are inscribed in and on the soldier’s body.

Imposed Discipline Imposed discipline implies that an external entity instructs a soldier to act (see Weber 1946). This means an external force other than the sol-

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dier himself outlines the task to be undertaken, administers its execution and supervises the expected outcome. The military has formal (e.g. disciplinary codes) and informal (e.g. peer discipline) mechanisms to manage, control and monitor the behaviour of its soldiers. In the Ghanaian barracks, I observed that soldiers are constantly being observed and monitored by peers, superiors, subordinates and others from neighbouring units. These prowling eyes impose discipline because they ensure that soldiers dress properly, execute their orders or follow conventions. When a soldier fell short of expectations, I observed that he was immediately corrected. Imposed discipline can have very subtle manifestations in the form of a colleague jokingly correcting a soldier. Additionally, my informants suggest that imposed discipline operates in tandem with the threat of sanction. ‘When soldiers don’t work, we have a range of instruments to punish them. We don’t have to, but we can. It makes them work.’11 Apart from the threat of punishment, an observing eye of a superior keeps the soldier in line and makes him behave as expected under the imposed disciplinary regime. An informant described imposed discipline as follows: You are told what to do by others. That is how some irresponsible people function. They wait for someone to give them instructions for something they know they will have to do anyway. In the military, these irresponsible people give their commanders more work because they constantly have to be supervised, otherwise they will not work. In any case, it is the same with imposed discipline; it has to do with the official way we function – our rules and regulations, and these have to be imposed and monitored.12

The above quote assesses the challenges involved in imposed discipline. As a military subject, the soldier adheres to the norms, codes, rules and regulations of the institution. However, despite their training, there are military operatives who are incapable of adhering to the rules and regulations. That is why disciplinary norms have to be imposed upon them, through formal and informal sanction instruments. Discipline at the Ghanaian military battalion or unit is the combined responsibility of the CO, the RSM and the SNCOs. The RSM has the disciplinary control over all ORs and young officers. My informants note that while the RSM will demand discipline directly from his men, his tone in demanding discipline from a young officer will be drastically different because ‘an officer is still his superior’.13 The RSM of a combat unit illustrated to me how he goes about imposing discipline standards on young officers. When I observe that a young officer [Second Lieutenants and Lieutenants] is not living up to our unit standard, I have a way of approaching

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him. If for some reason he was not ironing his uniform properly or has not been shining his boots, I will first approach him discretely in his office. I will tell him: “Sir, lately your boots don’t shine like I am used to from you!” Then I will salute him and leave.’14

The undiluted message to the officer is that he is flaunting the discipline standards and as an officer he is expected to do better. The RSM confides that he will monitor the young officer, therefore imposing discipline as an external entity: When there is still no improvement, I will approach him once again to tell him: ‘Sir, today after work, I will have someone pick up your boots and uniform!’ Then I will salute him and leave the office. After work, I will instruct a soldier to pick up the officer’s boots and uniform. After these interventions, I expect the officer to comply with our unit’s expectations. If he doesn’t, I will report him to the CO. He will curate punishment in the form of sword drills for him, which I will take him through on the Regimental Square.15

The example illustrates how imposed discipline at the unit level in the Ghana Armed Forces can be enforced. Imposed discipline is important, as it contributes to maintaining high disciplinary standards in the barracks, and it involves officers, ORs, peers, subordinates and superiors. The workings of self-discipline and imposed discipline are self-evident from the examples and excerpts presented in the preceding paragraphs. Together, the combination makes life predictable in the barracks, which generates trust, and hierarchy is reinforced as the person imposing discipline is mostly a superior. Ideally, the disciplined soldier subject should master both forms of discipline. One could argue that during the breakdown of everydayness and military order, none of the discipline forms functioned adequately. The disciplined soldier subject, created as part of the transformation process, adheres to military discipline, thus contributing to the effective functioning of the Ghana Armed Forces.

Body Discipline Discipline has a bodily manifestation to it. According to Arkin and Dobrofsky (1978: 158), discipline centres on a soldier’s appearance; dressing in line with the military’s regulations expressed in the form of a soldier catering for his physical hygiene but also ensuring physical fitness. This physical manifestation of discipline is expressed at the units – spaces where the formal and informal structures of authority are visible (Winslow 1999a: 8). The disciplined soldier subject in the Ghanaian military exhibits the physical manifestation of discipline through, among others, wearing the

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right uniform on the right occasion – neatly ironed clothing, boots polished and rank insignia positioned at the designated places (shoulders, sleeves or collar, depending on rank, service and whether one is an officer or an OR) with medals and name tag also well-positioned. The following excerpt from a focus group with Sergeants illustrates the importance of the appearance of the soldier. If you are not disciplined, you cannot turn out well. It takes a lot of hard work to prepare your uniform. At the Recruit Training Centre, they taught us that in the morning you should be able to apply the three ‘S’: Shit, shave and shine. If you are able to apply these three things every morning to yourself, it means you have discipline in you.16

The Sergeants explain that ‘shit’ refers to relieving oneself; ‘shave’ to the expectation that the soldier be clean shaven; and ‘shine’ to his general appearance: ‘when the soldier appears somewhere, he should be shining from haircut through his uniform to his boots’.17 In my informants’ assessment, when a soldier manages to apply this set of rules every morning before reporting for duty, he will be neat enough to pass the military’s minimum requirements. The Ghanaian military, like the general Ghanaian society, has a culture of outward appeasement; therefore, when a soldier fulfils these demands, he is deemed disciplined. Since it is a lot of work to prepare the uniform to meet the appearance demands of the military, when a soldier complies with these demands in the barracks he is considered a disciplined soldier subject. In the transformation process of the Ghanaian military, it is important to stress discipline as a fundamental element in the restoration of everydayness and military order, hence the creation of the disciplined soldier subject. However, there is more to military discipline, my interlocutors suggest. According to the ASM of the GMA, the following happens when new cadets are entrusted to him for acquaintance with military discipline and the ‘house rules’ (Arkin and Dobrofsky 1978). From day one, you [the cadet] are taught how to talk to the senior man, how to move from one place to the other, how to salute, how to respond, how to march, how to eat, how to dress; everything. The training is designed in such a way that discipline is instilled into you.18

The ASM contends that all actions are geared towards disciplining, in the first instance, physically. Since military discipline is the fundament of the armed forces, the training is crafted to impart discipline physically into the new military arrival. The cadet undergoes specifically designed and routinized activities to shape his behaviour, attitude and perceptions, thus

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physically sculpting him into a disciplined soldier subject. At the GMA, I observed that (new) cadets, at the beginning of their training, were not allowed to walk from point A to point B on the academy grounds. The cadet was to ‘double’ (a movement between trotting and jogging) and ‘pay compliments’ (i.e. salute) to every superior he encountered. These training methods contribute to disciplining the cadet through his body. ‘He absorbs the discipline level the military requires; through his body’ (Goffman 1961; Arkin and Dobrofsky 1978) and completely subjects himself to the military institution (Foucault 1977; Butler 1997), thus turning him into the soldier subject. During this process of ‘personal defacement’ (Goffman 1961: 14), the recruit or cadet is stripped of his civilian identity; material objects that link him to his civilian past, such as clothing and toiletries, are confiscated. Another way in which the soldier’s body is disciplined (Foucault 1977; Katz 1990; Bourdieu 1995 [1972]; Crossley 1995; Wacquant 1995; Armitage 2003; Purkiss 2005; Sasson-Levy 2008; Mascia-Lees 2011; Ramos-Zayas 2011; McSorley 2013; Newlands 2013; Woodward and Jenkins 2013; Käihkö 2015), according to my interlocutors, is through the so-called ‘drill’. My interlocutors claim military discipline begins on the ‘Drill Square’ because performing the same ‘dance’, as it were, with others transforms the soldier’s body. On the square, he also learns to respect the authority of his commander, as well as the strength and limitations of his body, through disciplining his body through marching. My informants explain that due to their close proximity to other military operatives on the Parade Square, soldiers not only learn to cooperate with each other but also become one with their colleagues (see also Ben-Ari and Frühstück 2003). Military discipline is drill and it starts on the [Drill] Square. When you enter the Recruit Training School, the first place you go to is the square. Here you learn the basics of what it means to be a disciplined soldier. You learn to take and follow orders and instructions from your superiors. You also learn to march but also how to turn to your left, to your right and about [i.e. turn around] to salute. These are all very bodily and physical activities; through them discipline is instilled in you.19

The drills I witnessed on the Parade Square looked choreographed and synchronized. Nielsen (2013: 47) notes that social identities depend on a specific kind of visibility created aesthetically. The soldiers’ performance of the same movement at the exact same time, moving back and forth on the square, shapes their identity. The synchronized movements sculpt the individual soldier into a part of the military body. Aijmer (2000: 10) notes that although the drill could be deployed as a form of communication to

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depict unity, strength and aggression to the outside world, in this case it displayed discipline. The drills were almost like choreographed dances, especially when there was supporting music provided by a marching band on the background. A drill instructor explained that the military teaches the soldier many lessons through his body: The soldier does the drill not for fun but because there is a programme or an occasion to be marked. There are strict rules involved in the drill. The soldier has to follow and execute them precisely. By learning to be physically precise in performing his drill routines, the soldier learns to be disciplined, as he cannot mess up on the [Drill] square otherwise he spoils the drill. And messing up is intolerable because there are senior officers and men around.20

In other words, the strict adherence to the rules guiding the drill is a form of disciplining. It takes a high level of discipline to perform the drill to the required perfection. This is how discipline is imparted into the prospective as well as arrived soldier subject. Additionally, the presence of senior officers forces the soldier not to mess up the drill and serves as a disciplining instrument, as military operatives are forced to execute the drill precisely as directed by the drill instructors. The precise execution of the drill contributes to disciplining the soldier’s body, as he has to be in shape to be able to perform the drill in unison with other soldiers. Sports are also important tools for disciplining the body. I have overheard on many occasions peers tell each other that ‘the wife is taking good care of you, she makes you enjoy the good life’.21 In other words, the soldier is enjoying life and neglecting disciplining his body. That is visible because he is developing a potbelly or gaining weight. This is a (subtle) way of prompting the soldier to discipline his body more rigorously through sports. Since sports are an important element of disciplining the body, the Ghanaian military incorporates sports in barracks life and soldiers’ routines, regularly organizing sporting activities – i.e. ‘games’22 (military slang for sports). Most units engage in ‘games’ two to three times a week to help maintain a high level of fitness amongst the troops. In short, the soldier subject is expected to be fit for the job by possessing a disciplined body capable of performing the military duties required of him. Apart from peers, superiors and subordinates drawing soldiers’ attention to fitness, the military has other instruments in hand to force soldiers to discipline their body. For instance, for (junior) officers to gain promotion to their next ranks (Lieutenant to Captain; Captain to Major), but also for all military operatives to be selected for peacekeeping missions, they must pass the basic Battle Fitness Test (BFT).

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However, in daily interactions, soldiers also prompt each other to discipline their bodies The following excerpt is an interaction observed in the field in which a soldier prompts his colleague to be disciplined in his appearance: a SNCO was on his way to the RSM when his colleague called out to him. The following conversation ensued: Warrant Officer 1: ‘Masser [Master, which is used amongst peers to address each other or used to address someone who is slightly senior]. How are you?’ Warrant Officer 2: ‘I am fine. Thank you for asking. How are you? And the family?’ Warrant Officer 1: ‘I am fine and the family is also very well. Yes, I want to tell you something.’ Warrant Officer 2: ‘Yes?’ Warrant Officer 1: ‘Masser, your nose hairs. They are too long.’ Warrant Officer 2: ‘Oh. I was unaware.’ Warrant Officer 1: ‘So, do something about them. The regimental barber has opened.’ Warrant Officer 2: ‘Thank you for pointing that out to me, sir!’

The soldier saluted and walked towards the regimental barber’s shop. By pointing out to his colleague that his nose hairs were too long and needed to be trimmed, although subtle and friendly, the Warrant Officer was disciplining his colleague. The soldier acknowledged that he was not meeting the appearance demands of the military. Immediately after he was made aware, he went to the barber to have his nose hairs trimmed. As mentioned earlier, physical appearance is an important aspect of being a disciplined soldier subject. That is why the Ghanaian military feverishly polices this aspect of body discipline. In this section of the chapter, I have presented how the disciplined soldier subject is created, starting with the transformation from civilian to soldier. Discipline, especially its physical manifestation, is a fundamental element in this process. Apart from dressing properly, disciplining the body can be achieved through drill and sports. Other forms of discipline are reflected in a soldier’s behaviour. These embodied forms of discipline include, for example, how the soldier stands, how he walks from one point to another or how he eats and talks. The aim of all the various forms of discipline is the same; namely, the creation of the disciplined soldier subject.

Punishment Discipline is a continual, ongoing process. Punishment plays an important role in enforcing discipline, as it serves as a deterrent for regulating

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behaviour; a social control mechanism (Benn 1958: 330; Arvey and Ivancevich 1980: 123; Byrd 1989: 151–52; Bedau 2001: 104; Deigh and Dolinko 2011: 13). This section deals with punishment as a mechanism of maintaining discipline. Despite the embodiment and internalization of discipline, in order to maintain discipline, punishment has to be added to the equation. Punishment in the Ghanaian barracks is exercised through formal or informal mechanisms. Formal disciplining entails ‘playing by the book’ (Jaffe 1984) or, in my interlocutors’ words, ‘applying the Volume II’ – the second volume of the Armed Forces Regulations that specifically focuses on discipline and sanctions accompanying breaches thereof.23 How is punishment or the threat thereof used to maintain discipline in the Ghanaian barracks? The ‘Volume II’ is a disciplining tool as well as a behavioural guide for soldiers ‘to do the right thing’ but also for them ‘to know the right thing’. Every Ghanaian soldier is expected to know its content and adhere to the guidelines. My interlocutors note that discipline contributes to ‘esprit de corps’ and unity because punishment keeps the disciplined soldier subject in line with the military’s expectations, thus increasing trust and strengthening hierarchy. The implementation of formal punishment in the military, especially for serious offences, such as violence or refusing an order, is done through the military judicial system’s administered and prescribed punishment. As part of restoring military order, everydayness and discipline in the barracks, the military judiciary system – the so-called ‘Board’ – also had to be overhauled. Prior to the Revolution, ORs had the impression that the Board was biased towards them while it gave officers more power. This power imbalance partly contributed to the breakdown of military order because ORs wanted to be recognized and acknowledged by the military institutions as full members. Contrary to the period before the breakdown of everydayness and military order, the CO solely presided over cases against soldiers. Currently, the CO is assisted by the Board, which consists of a second officer, the RSM, a senior NCO and, finally, a rank mate of the soldier who has been charged.24 The aim of these adjustments is to offer the accused a fair trial, thus eliminating any semblance of bias towards the accused or ORs. The structure of discipline of a combat unit in the Ghanaian barracks is as follows: a Lance Corporal, for instance, enforces discipline over a Private Soldier; the Lance Corporal in turn is supervised by a Corporal; a Corporal is monitored by a Sergeant, and so on. This chain of discipline forms part of the informal disciplinary machinery in which a higher ranked soldier disciplines those beneath him in rank. However, with the

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initiation of the transformation process, new forms of punishment have been introduced in the barracks. At the unit level, the RSM in maintaining discipline has the mandate to apply both formal and informal instruments. Mostly, however, the RSM deploys informal disciplinary tools. The RSM of a combat unit explains: ‘At the regiment, the use of informal discipline measures are the most effective for making soldiers behave. My soldiers consider informal punishment humane,’25 while formal forms of punishment are considered ‘wicked, rigid and old’26 by military operatives. The last category of punishments are associated with punishments administered in the ‘olden days’ – i.e. the period prior to the initiation of the transformation process. The informal discipline is punishment administered without official charge or registration.27 Soldiers prefer the informal form of punishment as this has no far-reaching consequences for them. The following example illustrates the workings of informal discipline in practice. It was published in the Part I Orders that a soldier must report for guard duties at the CO’s residence, but he did not show up. A replacement was arranged. Hence, the soldier can be charged for AWOL. However, in line with the contemporary ‘human face philosophy’ – humane approach to military management – the RSM first enquires why the soldier did not report for duty. If the soldier has no valid reason, such as the soldier’s immediate family member needing acute medical attention or something in that direction, the RSM can chose to punish him formally or informally. For instance, for AWOL, RSMs regularly punish soldiers by scheduling them for guard duties for ten consecutive days. Additionally, in the hours in between, he can be awarded a large field to weed. According to an RSM, soldiers gladly accept the meanest of informal punishments, as long as the case does not appear before the Board or receive an official recording. The RSM notes that with informal disciplining, ‘the soldier does not suffer forever, like you do [he does] with the formal punishment’.28 In short, because informal punishments are not officially recorded but are administered at the unit level, they do not appear on the soldier’s service file, while the opposite is the case with formal punishments. Official records could affect a soldiers’ career progression and cancel out lucrative opportunities, thus military operatives go to great lengths to avoid a formal recording of punishments. In this section, I have presented how formal and informal disciplinary measures are used to regulate behaviour in the Ghanaian barracks and maintain discipline. Both forms of punishment keep the disciplined soldier subject in line and regulate his behaviour and, therefore, in the end, contribute to military order. This strengthens trust in the barracks, as

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disciplined behaviour is expected behaviour. This in turn also contributes to reproducing hierarchy because the disciplined soldier subject is expected to adhere to the hierarchical arrangements of the Ghanaian military. If the soldier breaches the expected disciplinary norms, he is punished formally or informally.

Self-Discipline In addition to imposed forms of discipline, soldiers adhere to forms of self-discipline, which are associated with acts and behaviours that are internally driven – i.e. ‘internalized discourse’ (Foucault 1977). The soldier acts on his own; he is not prompted by a superior or driven by any external entity to act. The soldier is solely liable and responsible for his actions29 because they are self-driven and self-supervised; there is no superior to check whether he is adhering to the rules, codes and regulations. In self-discipline, we could say that the soldier acts as if he gave himself orders to undertake action. The soldier undertakes whatever task is expected of him, not only because it is expected of him but also because he wants to. I observed, for example, that Ghanaian soldiers take pride in their punctuality and time consciousness; qualities and traits they believe their civilian counterparts do not always exhibit. An interlocutor explained the workings of self-discipline: If you are self-disciplined, I don’t think you’ll find anything difficult in the army [military]. You know what you are supposed to do and when you are supposed to do it. You need not wait for anybody to come and tell you every morning that you are supposed to be on duty. You know it, so you do it. If you are self-disciplined soldier work is easy and smooth.30

The above example illustrates self-discipline in that the soldier is self-motivated and thus performs his duties without instructions from an external entity. For all the units I visited, I observed that the Administration Block had mirrors hanging on the verandas. I saw soldiers using these mirrors to check whether their headgear was well-positioned, their belts well-placed or whether their boots still shone. In short, ideally, a self-disciplined soldier abides by the rules and regulations of the military without being asked or forced to. Moreover, he executes his tasks and duties without instructions from his superiors and looks sharp like a disciplined soldier subject. The following section explores the discourse of ‘doing the right thing’, which is at the heart of soldiers’ self-disciplined behaviour.

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The Discourse of ‘Doing the Right Thing’ Discipline in organizations is an instrument with multiple usages (Soeters, Winslow and Weibull 2006: 243); it could be deployed as a tool for controlling behaviour. Discipline could be considered a behavioural marker that demarcates the parameters for people’s behaviour within an institution (ibid.). However, apart from the institutional perspective of discipline as a behavioural marker, an individual’s perspective and contribution to discipline are also relevant. The essence of discipline ‘is discipleship’,31 which translates into ‘an individual soldier adheres to ideas, principles, and theories of the military that regulate conduct in the barracks, interaction with colleagues, superiors and subordinates and general obedience to the codes of conduct’.32 In other words, the soldier’s behaviour is guided by ‘something higher than oneself’.33 Owing to the soldier’s professional training, he is aware that ‘a disciplined soldier behaves as someone who is responsible to God and man’.34 Discipline thus supersedes adherence to the rules and regulations and codes of conduct but rather comprises of sharing the vision and attitude of the military institution. Put differently, the soldier is a disciple of the Ghanaian military. At the less abstract level, discipline essentially entails ‘taking responsibility for your actions and performing your assigned duties without supervision by superiors’.35 Discipline as defined by my interlocutors, hence ‘appeals to firm motives of an ethical character, it presupposes a “sense of duty” and “conscientiousness”’ (Weber 1946: 254). In short, discipline represents an appeal to the soldier’s conscience and his sense of duty. This is what my informants call ‘doing the right thing’ in dealings within the barracks but also in the wider Ghanaian society. At the heart of this section is the discourse ‘do the right thing’. This discourse underpins discipline in the Ghanaian barracks. Once again, discipline is understood not exclusively as punishment or following orders but as the socializing force of values. The examples provided to illustrate this may be individual in nature but represent broader values of the military institution, such as courage, loyalty, commitment and sacrifice. The discourse of ‘doing the right thing’ is aimed at generating predictable or expected behaviour and eventually producing trust as a result. In the barracks, the discourse of doing the right thing is everywhere. My interlocutors’ perception of ‘doing the right thing’ amounts to soldiers upholding their soldierly ‘values’ (Dumont 1970 [1966]: 20), such as loyalty to commanders and showing the right attitude to work but also appreciation for authority and respect for the rank. According to my informants, a disciple of the discourse of ‘doing the right thing’ is a soldier who does not undermine discipline and through his lifestyle and adher-

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ence to this discourse portrays a military operative disciplined soldier subject who operates within the behavioural parameters of the Ghanaian military.

Dressing ‘the Right Way’ The discourse of ‘doing the right thing’ can have a physical manifestation. The appearance of the soldier may be considered not only an everyday expression of discipline but also a form of ‘doing the right thing’. A soldier’s appearance can be pregnant with negative or positive associations. A disciplined soldier is viewed as ‘doing the right thing’ when he is sharply dressed, not least because the outer appearance of a soldier can be an indicator of the military operative’s mind; it could also be a reflection of him being disciplined or not.36 As a soldier or an officer, your appearance must be superb. That is the right thing to do.37

In other words, a soldier who invests time in fulfilling the physical demands of the military is considered by the barracks to be disciplined. ‘Doing the right thing’ in this context implies that the soldier polishes his boots, has his hair regularly cut and presents his clothing as tutored to him by the military in his training, according to the military’s standards. The point is that the soldier’s adherence to the military institution’s dress code(s) makes him a disciplined soldier as he is ‘doing the right thing’ and fulfilling the expectations of his environment, thus generating trust as well. The Ghanaian military, like many militaries around the world, has dress codes for various occasions. Instructions published in the Part I Orders provide the soldier with details of the duties to be performed and (in some cases) the required uniform for a particular assignment. The Part I Orders, however, does not instruct the soldier on how to prepare his uniform, as the military assumes and expects that a professional soldier is aware of what is expected of him; as demonstrated to him during his training. Adherence to the prescriptions for the uniform and other physical demands is ‘doing the right thing’. The soldier’s adherence to the expected standards is the military operative’s embodiment of ‘doing the right thing’. However, what happens when the soldier flaunts the required standards? For example, when a soldier’s boots are unpolished? The soldier’s environment will question him, and discipline will be imposed on him to prompt him to ‘do the right thing’ by dressing ‘the right way’. It must be emphasized that ‘doing the right thing’ is beyond written rules but is rather about being a military

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disciple, which entails exhibiting a set of attitudes that relate to the soldier’s training, his adherence to the military way of life and military way of doing things and finally to soldierly values.

‘Doing the Right Thing’ is Not Reporting Drunk to Work The following observation from the field illustrates a breach of the discourse of ‘doing the right thing’ and challenges soldierly and military values. The RSM of an influential combat unit is sitting under a tree in the early afternoon of a December day. He is chatting and joking with his men when a soldier comes running to him, shouting: ‘Sir! Sir! Staff Sergeant X finally arrived at the unit, but he is leaning on a walking stick!’ The RSM, a firmly built SNCO and the personification of discipline – his uniform starched and ironed, his hair short and his boots shining like a mirror – asks the soldier: ‘Is Staff Sergeant X wounded?’ ‘I don’t think so, sir! I think, he is drunk and he doesn’t want us to know. He is trying not to look shaky,’ the soldier replies. The RSM instructs the soldier to get him the Staff Sergeant immediately. A few minutes later, the Staff Sergeant arrives leaning, indeed, on a walking stick. He looks wobbly; he can barely stand. It is clear he has been drinking due to the strong alcohol smell in the vicinity that was absent before the SNCO’s arrival. However, to camouflage the smell of alcohol, the Staff Sergeant has eaten what smells like garlic. The RSM confronts the soldier by asking him whether he has been drinking, but the SNCO denies consuming alcohol. The RSM reminds him that drunkenness during working hours is intolerable and certainly not ‘the right thing’ to do. The intoxicated soldier looks at his superior with sleepy eyes and smiles sheepishly. Eventually the RSM sends him away. Drunkenness runs counter to the discourse of ‘doing the right thing’. According to my interlocutors, in the Ghanaian barracks, as a rule it is prohibited for soldiers to drink during office hours. Additionally, soldiers who report drunk for duty are eligible for punishment. From this encounter, I gathered that the soldier had a history of drinking and regularly reported drunk to duty. As a result of this behaviour, he had been sent home on several occasions and penalized with extra tasks, including formal punishment. After the soldier’s departure, the RSM expressed frustration at the soldier’s behaviour: ‘This soldier is always giving me problems. He is not “doing the right thing”. The behaviour he is showing is undermining the discipline of our unit.’38 The soldier is not exhibiting discipleship, as he does not adhere to the rule of not drinking during office hours and not reporting to duty drunk.

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Furthermore, in the barracks, I observed that soldiers with drinking problems were closely monitored by their peers, superiors and other commanders. Drunkenness is frowned upon, as alcoholic soldiers do not only embarrass themselves and their families but also their unit and the military as a whole. Additionally, an alcoholic soldier is considered indisciplined because he is incapable of controlling his urges. Contrary to an alcoholic soldier, the disciplined soldier subject has control over himself and can resist the urge to drink.

Showing the ‘Right’ Work Attitude ‘Doing the right thing’ can also be displayed through one’s attitude towards work and superiors. In the words of an informant, discipline is ‘doing the right thing at the blind side of your commander’. Thus when a soldier is given a task, he is expected to execute it without much supervision from his superior. Moreover, he is expected to do the job properly even when his boss forgets to give him a complete briefing; he should conduct the assignment in order not to expose the flaws of his superior. In an ideal world, a disciplined soldier will do his job ‘to the letter’.39 However, I observed many situations in which soldiers did not want to work. The situation called for superiors to correct them, reissue an order or assign others to do the job. Clearly in such situations, soldiers are not ‘doing the right thing’ in not doing their assigned tasks or exhibiting the right work attitude. For example, when a soldier is assigned sentry duties on a Saturday morning from 06:00 till 08:00 and he decides, for whatever reason, not to do as instructed, he is not ‘doing the right thing’. ‘Doing the right thing’ in this case would have entailed him staying at his post until he had received an order to leave. It is in these types of situation that ‘doing the right thing’ becomes meaningful. When the soldier leaves the sentry, he leaves the unit unprotected and exposed because the task of the sentry is to serve as the eyes and ears of the unit in case of impending danger; he does not ‘do the right thing’, as he violates the value of commitment and loyalty to his superior, to the unit and to the military generally. The soldier does not show the ‘right’ work attitude. An example recounted to me by an SNCO illustrates how discipline converged in the idea of ‘doing the right thing at a time when you don’t want to do it’.40 This means acting contrary to one’s own interests but in the interests of the military. This is the ideal – the ultimate form of ‘doing the right thing’.41 A soldier has just returned from a tiring bush exercise. He really wants to go home for some sleep, but his commander asks him to perform

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night guard duties as there are no other soldiers available to him. Despite the tiredness, the soldier goes on guard duty. He is doing ‘the right thing’.42

In short, my informants consider self-sacrifice as a virtue of being a soldier. In the above quote, the soldier, despite being tired, serves the military. In the first example, the soldier left his assigned post and did not ‘do the right thing’ in showing the wrong work attitude. In the second example, the soldier proved to be indisciplined, as he did not act as expected of him and thus disrupted the everydayness of the barracks and breached trust. In the second example, the soldier did ‘the right thing’ by acting contrary to his own interests. According to my interlocutors, this is the kind of commitment the military expects from its subject; namely, selfless service – the soldier making the ultimate commitment in serving his country, thus ‘doing the right thing’ to the utmost. The discourse of ‘doing the right thing’ is a behaviour marker that regulates soldiers’ attitudes in the Ghanaian barracks.

Loyalty as ‘Doing the Right Thing’ My interlocutors point out that ‘doing the right thing’ entails loyalty to one’s superiors and ultimately to the military because the job demands a soldier’s adherence to, and exhibition of, values (Dumont 1970 [1966]: 20), such as loyalty, integrity, commitment and sacrifice.43 My informants note that the Ghanaian military expects its operatives to ‘do the right thing’ by obeying their commanders and other superiors in the military hierarchy but also by not betraying them.44 Despite the demand for the soldier’s loyalty to his superiors, a military operative is encouraged as part of the transformation process to question whether he is ‘doing the right thing’. Soldiers are obliged to obey any lawful command or order issued to them. Although a soldier may have reservations concerning a particular order, as long as it is legal and lawful, he must act upon it. Due to the provided possibility of engaging in dialogue in the Ghana Armed Forces, under strict conditions, a soldier may refuse to execute an order; for example, if he believes the order is illegal, reckless and unnecessarily going to cost lives. Loyalty and discipline work in tandem, according to my interlocutors – that is, acting according to ‘the leader’s intent’ (Soeters, Winslow and Weibull 2006: 244) by, for example, not lying to the military system. Lying means that the commander will be working with dishonest personnel, which is not a great point of departure for the trust relations within the barracks. Moreover, lying means commanders will doubt the basis of the

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soldier’s loyalty, as this could be based on falsehoods. In the following ethnography, I present the final marching orders of a female soldier and what that means for the discourse of ‘doing the right thing’. The background information was provided by SNCOs at the unit: A young soldier had joined the military with the certificates of her brother with whom she coincidentally shares the same initials. The brother initially, apparently, did not have a problem with his sister using his certificates. After three years in the military service, however, the siblings fell out. It appears that he was upset and swore revenge. The brother at some point reported to the CO that his sister had used his certificates to enrol into the military. The CO forwarded the case to DI [Defence Intelligence] for further investigation. DI reported that indeed the female soldier had lied about her credentials. She was court martialled and eventually disgracefully discharged. After the verdict, the regimental bugle was blown for her last marching orders. The Regimental Provost [RP] escorted her to the lines to pick up her belongings. She was driven to the outskirts of the barracks and banned from returning for good.

In the Ghanaian context, normally when a person loses his or her employment, people are sympathetic as jobs are scarce (GSS 2008). However, the young woman in this ethnography had cheated the military system and therefore could not count on any sympathy from her former colleagues. Defrauding the military is definitely not ‘doing the right thing’ according to the SNCOs. The soldiers pointed out that the woman had shown disloyalty to her peers, colleagues and commanders through her deceit. Moreover, she had not adhered to the military’s recruitment rules and guidelines, which are aimed at attracting only qualified personnel.45 The young ex-soldier, according to my informants, had been fraudulent and indisciplined using her brother’s certificate. ‘She has been deceitful. We think that she most likely blocked the chance of someone who actually qualifies for military service. That is not the “right thing to do”.’46 The discourse of ‘doing the right thing’ can be considered a marker for soldiers’ behaviour within the Ghanaian military barracks; an element that generates expected behaviour that produces trust. The discourse, as discussed earlier, can have physical manifestations displayed through the soldier’s appearance. This in turn can mutate into a disciplinary issue because the soldier is not adhering to the requirement of dressing ‘the right way’ and is therefore not considered disciplined. However, it must be emphasized that ‘doing the right thing’ includes a set of attitudes that relate to the soldier’s training, his adherence to the military way of life and way of doing things and being a disciple of military values. ‘Doing the right thing’ also means that soldiers are expected to adhere to the sol-

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dierly values of the military by, for example, not reporting for duty drunk and not lying. The discourse of ‘doing the right thing’ is the foundation of the Ghanaian barracks and plays into creating and maintaining the disciplined soldier subject. The predictable behaviour of the soldier generates trust and by extension reinforces hierarchy. The ultimate example of ‘doing the right thing’ is the soldier sacrificing his own interests, and maybe even his life, in the service of his country.

Conclusion As part of reinstating everydayness and military order, the Ghanaian military embarked on the endeavour of building on the already existent soldier subject. Ghanaian soldiers in the period of the breakdown of everydayness, military order, hierarchy and discipline did not cease to be military operatives but rather stopped behaving like professional soldiers. By appealing to their soldierly values – the military institution continuously reminding and emphasizing its operatives of the importance of ‘doing the right thing’ – they contributed to the creation of the disciplined soldier subject who is shaped by and through discourses that speak to his sense of ‘doing the right thing’. In short, soldiers embracing and acting upon the discourse of ‘doing the right thing’, as a determining factor of behaving in a disciplined manner, completed this process of reworking the soldier subject into a disciplined soldier subject. The disciplined soldier subject was not created only through discourses but also through his body. I presented the forces that structure the everyday behaviour of the Ghanaian soldier – i.e. embodied discipline that shapes the appearance and movements of the soldier, which is then reinforced through internalized practices, such as military etiquette. The aim of these processes is to generate predictability in the barracks. This repetitive act of subordinating the subject usually operates in tandem with the threat of sanction, thus keeping the subject under control so that he lives up to the written and unwritten rules and codes of conduct to generate a predictable behavioural environment, trust and reinforce hierarchy.

NOTES 1. Interview with Gen. W.A. (rtd), Accra, Ghana (8 January 2014). Although this is a quote by an officer, all my interlocutors (officers and ORs) agree with this observation. 2. Ibid.

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3. With regard to other types of institutions, discipline has been studied in organizations such as banks (Mintzberg 1989) or as part of bureaucracies (Wilson 1989). However, Soeters, Winslow and Weibull (2006: 242) draw our attention to two other types of bureaucracies; coercive and enabling bureaucracies. 4. Interview with General A. (rtd), Accra, Ghana (14 February 2014). 5. Interview with Captain A., Whistler Barracks, Teshie, Accra, Ghana (12 March 2014). 6. Interviews with Major T.R. (14 October 2014) and Warrant Officer Class II B (29 April 2014) Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana. 7. Ghanaian soldiers are allowed to refuse to carry out an order deemed unlawful. 8. Informal Conversation with Major A. Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (7 March 2014). 9. Interview with Warrant Officer Class I E., Michel Camp, Tema, Accra, Ghana (13 May 2014). 10. Ibid. 11. Interview with a CO, Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana. 12. Interview with Captain M., Whistler Barracks, Teshie, Accra, Ghana (12 March 2014). 13. Interview with SNCO, Michel Camp, Tema, Accra, Ghana (5 May 2014). 14. Interview with RSM, Tamale, Ghana (4 August 2014). 15. Ibid. 16. Excerpt from Focus Group with Sergeants, Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (4 April 2014). 17. Informal conversation with Warrant Officer Class I R., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (5 April 2014). 18. Interview with Academy Sergeant Major Chief Warrant Officer H., Whistler Barracks, Teshie, Accra, Ghana (10 March 2014). 19. Ibid. 20. Informal conversations with Senior Warrant Officer O. and Warrant Officer Class II W., Whistler Barracks, Teshie, Accra, Ghana (6 January 2015). 21. Overheard conversation at a regiment in March 2014. 22. In March, April and May of 2014, I participated in many ‘Games’ with Armoured Reconnaissance Regiment in Accra, Ghana. The activities included road-running and playing basketball and volleyball. 23. Apart from the Armed Forces Regulations Volume II, which deals specifically with discipline, there are the Armed Forces Regulations Volumes 1, 3 and 4, which deal, respectively, with administration, finance and civilian employees. There are also other instruments, such as the Part I Orders, the Command and Staff Instructions and Procedures (CSIPs, Volumes 1–6) and Ministry of Defence Instructions (MDIs). 24. Interview with Lieutenant Colonel M., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (31 March 2014). 25. Interview with RSM, Senior Warrant Officer S., Tamale, Ghana (8 August 2014).

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26. Ibid. 27. Ibid. 28. Interview with RSM 6BN, Senior Warrant Officer S., Kamina Barracks, Tamale, Ghana (8 August 2014). 29. Excerpt from focus group with Sergeants, Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (4 April 2014). 30. Excerpt from focus group with Sergeants, Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (4 April 2014). 31. Interview with a retired General, Accra, Ghana (14 February 2014). 32. Ibid. 33. Interview with a retired General, Accra, Ghana (14 February 2014). 34. Ibid. 35. Interview with General B. (rtd), Accra, Ghana (29 April 2014). 36. Interview with Flying Officer O., Air Force Base, Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (6 July 2014). 37. Ibid. 38. Observations while spending time with a combat unit in Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (April 2014). 39. Informal conversation with Lieutenant S., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (6 March 2014). 40. Interview with Staff Sergeant H., Michel Camp, Tema, Accra, Ghana (5 May 2014). 41. Ibid. 42. Ibid. 43. Interview with Captain A., Bawa Barracks, Tamale, Ghana (5 August 2014). 44. Ibid. 45. Informal conversation with Warrant Officer Class I M., Michel Camp, Tema, Accra, Ghana (8 May 2014). Also, interview with Lieutenant Colonel A., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (15 June 2014). The officer pointed out that despite pressures from ‘outside’ and the general perception within the Ghanaian barracks, DI still conducts background checks on individuals who want to enlist or enroll. He showed me documents with requests for financial assistance from DI to perform this task in the various regions of Ghana. As the case of the Private Soldier has shown, though, despite the background checks, it is not always possible to fish out all the cheats; some still manage to get recruited. 46. Informal discussion with SNCOs at Michel Camp (10–14 May 2014).

✫ c ha p te r 4

New Soldiers on the Block From Buga-Buga Soldier to Disciplined Soldier Subjects

he preceding chapters have sketched the conditions leading to the breakdown of everydayness and military order in the Ghana Armed Forces and the circumstances that necessitated the initiation of the ongoing transformation process of the Ghanaian military. The rejuvenation exercise included measures such as the creation of the disciplined soldier subject, restoration of hierarchy and trust and the introduction of the ‘philosophy of the human face’.1 The transformation project entails a changing and evolving ecology of the barracks, generating new actors who are comfortable in the new landscape, while pushing out older actors who express feeling out of place in the new environment. The chapter zooms in on the workings of the transformation process in the Ghana Armed Forces, how this process plays out in the interactions between different generations of soldiers in the barracks and also the tensions generated by the renegotiation of barrack conventions resulting from this process. Additionally, new types of soldiers have emerged in the slipstream of the effort to reinstate military order and everydayness in the military barracks. The focus here is on how these new types of soldiers relate to other types of soldiers and how different generations of soldiers navigate the uncertainties associated with the new forms of interaction. Moreover, the new types of soldiers presented here illustrate how the transformation process of the Ghana Armed Forces is a necessarily non-linear but to some extent messy exercise, as developments outside the control of the military institution factor into the dynamics of change; for example, the tensions between the new actors in the barracks and the figure of the ‘Old Soldier’.

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First, I present the Old Soldier from whose analytical perspective the evolution and changes in the barracks are assessed. The Old Soldier’s perspective is valuable due to his long years in service. I then present the characteristics and perspectives of the various new types of soldiers in the barracks and how the Old Soldier relates to these. All this is to show the range of responses to the changing ecology.

Transformation and New Types of Soldiers In my interactions with soldiers on the impact of the ongoing transformation process on their environment and military conventions, I discovered a split between old and new generations of soldiers. In these conversations, my older informants frequently voiced their dissatisfaction over frictions experienced with the introduction of change and with new types of soldiers that have emerged in the slipstream of this exercise. To illustrate the changes in relationships and dynamics, I present a genealogy of Ghanaian soldiers by adopting the position of the Old Soldier.2

The Old Soldier To understand the changing dynamics in the barracks but also to illustrate transformation in the Ghanaian military, the Old Soldier will be treated in-depth before proceeding to introduce the new types of soldiers. The categories deployed here emerged based on ethnographic interviews, informal conversations and participant observations. The category of the Old Soldier is an assemblage of soldiers who do exist in the Ghanaian barracks but are mostly on their way out, as they have nearly served their mandatory twenty five years;3 the maximum number of years one can serve as an OR.4 The Old Soldier is an SNCO of the rank of (at least) Warrant Officer Class II. He was recruited at in the late 1980s or early 1990s during the ‘Revolution’, when Rawlings was the head of state (Nugent 1995; Hutchful 1997a; Oquaye 2004). Generally, the Old Soldier reflects on the Revolution with fondness because ‘ORs were taken seriously by the military institution back then’.5 Due to the Old Soldier’s long service, the military establishment holds no secrets for him. Although the memories and utterances of the Old Soldier could be ‘phantasmal’ (Foster 1985: 90, cited in Stewart 1992: 253), the Old Soldier ‘was trained by the old-timers,6 who taught him with diligence and an iron fist at the same time’.7

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The assemblage of these soldiers presents a plethora of views, perceptions and narratives that exist among various SNCOs. The Old Soldier, a representative of SNCOs, speaks about how he relates to his (changing) environment, younger colleagues as well as to his predecessors.

Buga-Buga Nostalgia Stewart (1992: 253) defines nostalgia as ‘an essential, narrative, function of language that orders events temporally and dramatizes them’. One could say that my interlocutors who constitute the construct of the Old Soldier are ‘nostalgic figures’ who lament the good old days when ‘a soldier was a soldier’. An informant in a conversation fondly recalled the good old days of legendary RSMs, such as Baba Musa or Fred Anyigbe – ‘men of character and disciplined to the core’.8 The SNCOs recount days long foregone when the RSM chewed his goro (Hausa for cola nuts) while inspecting – pace stick tightly tucked under his armpit–9 his men’s uniforms, haircuts and boots at ‘Muster Parade’ (a large parade generally held at least twice a week on the Parade Square).10 The Old Soldier is nostalgic of a distant past in which the RSM intimidated his men into submission by personally disciplining soldiers in view of everyone on the Regimental Square whenever soldiers breached the disciplinary codes of conduct. As nostalgic figures, one cannot help thinking that the Old Soldier’s stories entail slight exaggerations and half-truths of events. The Old Soldier struck me as nostalgic with his stories about the suffering at the hands of the old-timers and tales of how disciplined Ghanaian soldiers were in the good old days, conveniently ignoring issues such as coups and incidents of indiscipline. In line with his nostalgia, the Old Soldier tells me about the origins of his strict approach to discipline: If a soldier has not been on night duty, he is expected to report for work by 07:30 a.m. We had RSMs who expected their men to be at the unit before they themselves arrived. The moment the RSMs arrived, they ordered the guys on the sentries to block the entrances. Anyone who came in after the RSM was punished for being late; even if they reported before the designated 07:30 a.m. The latecomers were paraded and drilled on the Regimental Square. After that they were marched off to weed.

The RSMs, in other words, intimidated and terrorized their men at the units into submission and adhering to the conventions and rules, as the Old Soldier and his colleagues feared the punishment and wrath of these leaders. Fear was the source of the soldiers’ discipline rather than authority. However, the older generation of soldiers in the Ghanaian barracks

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consider this a better approach than the current regime soldiers undergo, therefore making the Old Soldier a better, tougher and more disciplined soldier than the current generation of military operatives. Stewart (1992: 261) notes that exiles in search of a past and a place in their new environment reconstruct their lives in narrative form, creating stories designed to ‘assemble a broken history into a new whole’ (ibid.). The nostalgic Old Soldier does the same, as he recounts events by constructing ‘collective narratives’ (Baker 2013). Chronicling of common shared stories becomes the group’s story in which there is a constant reference to what was good about the past and what is wrong with the present,11 therefore creating an ‘us’ versus ‘them’ scenario. Additionally, the world created through these narratives is ‘unnatural and unreal’ (Stewart 1992: 261) and resembles a ‘fabrication’ (ibid.). This phantasmal fabrication makes the Old Soldier a nostalgic, sentimental man who is not fond of the present due to concerns of how to deal with and behave in the world of new types of soldiers – who will be introduced shortly – and how to deal with new emerging conventions in the barracks. The Old Soldier in essence is caught between a rock and a hard place because he desires a phantom past that can no longer be embraced, while shying away from a present state that represents a wealth of uncertainties and unknowns, both socially and institutionally, and longs for a future that he hopes will bring him redemption. The Old Soldier’s nostalgia represents a legacy of a past military order that produced completely different soldier subjects than those serving in the contemporary Ghana Armed Forces, namely: the Buga-Buga soldier.12 The Buga-Buga soldier is widely recognized across generations of soldiers in the Ghanaian barracks. Merleau-Ponty (1962 [1945]) notes that the body is a collection of history. Similarly, the Ghanaian military can be viewed as a body with memory and history. Through a collection of artefacts and training regimes, military knowledge is passed on from one generation to the next. Viewed in this light, in the body of the Old Soldiers, one can observe the remnants of the history of the Ghana Armed Forces; the residue of the historical figure of the Buga-Buga soldier. Yet, in view of Merleau-Ponty’s (1962 [1945]) point that the body is a bearer of historical artefacts, one sees that although the colonial soldier has not been in the barracks for decades, through training regimes, the Buga-Buga soldier was present until the 1980s. Buga-Buga soldiers may not be physically present, but their image is crucial to the identification of current serving military personnel. ‘Buga-Buga’ is extracted from the Hausa word bugashi, which, according to my interlocutors, translates as ‘to apply force’.13 Other colloquial meanings are unpolished, unrefined, brute and rigid.14 According to my

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informants, the pre- and post-colonial soldier was known for his rough antics and was semi-literate. Baynham (1994: 15) writes that British colonial commanders entertained the idea that the ideal soldier in the Gold Coast was an illiterate from remote areas in the northern part of Ghana and of ‘martial race’ (ibid.; Kirk-Greene 1980: 395; Addae 2005: 163) because the tribes of the ‘Northern Territories’ were in a permanent state of war with each other. This made them appealing for recruitment into the colonial armies, as they fitted the colonial stereotype of warriors sought after by the British recruiters, men who were deemed to be tough, reliable and cooperative (ibid; Boddy 2011) and thus suitable for fighting and enhancing the colonial project. The illiteracy of the colonial soldier was appealing to the colonizers, so British officers were ‘in no great hurry to “spoil” their military values and simple loyalty by too much education’ (ibid.). Put differently, colonial administrators purposely kept the colonial soldier in the dark to extract extreme obedience and loyalty from him. Moreover, the colonizers reasoned that these men ‘were unlikely to get involved in nationalist demonstrations, labour disputes and other forms of internal disorder due to the geographical distance to the centres of power in the south’ (ibid.). Addae (2005: 163) notes that the Buga-Buga soldier joined the military because he was from a poverty-stricken area and deprived background where there was the least opportunity for education. The servicemen’s only viable option for a relatively better life was military service. The Old Soldier notes that ‘being a soldier was status to them, therefore his employment was extremely important to the Buga-Buga soldier. Serving gave him prestige in his hometown’.15 That is why, the Old Soldier concludes, the Buga-Buga soldier executed his task without asking too many questions, because ‘an order is an order’.16 My informants note that the Buga-Buga soldier’s motto in pidgin English was ‘Masser say make I do this job, so that be what I go do’ (in translation, master says I should execute this task, so that is what I am going to do).17 The Old Soldier observes that when the Buga-Buga soldier was given a task, he executed it by any means possible, including the use of (excessive) force,18 ‘making him uncompromising, which made civilians shiver at his sight’.19 On the work floor, the Old Soldier experienced the wrath of the BugaBuga soldier. He was considered ruthless by ORs. The Buga-Buga soldiers controlled the barracks with fear and intimidation, regularly beating their subordinates.20 The Old Soldier describes the Buga-Buga period as follows: ‘When we joined there was no democracy in the barracks. We came to meet illiterates; they were rigid.’21 He continued: ‘[a]lthough they were rough, there was at least discipline.’22 Despite the heavy-handedness and the rough antics of his Buga-Buga predecessor, the Old Sol-

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dier recalls the time of the Buga-Buga soldier with a ‘sense of nostalgia’ (Stewart 1992: 253). The Old Soldier recalls that due to the low literacy level of the BugaBuga troops, whenever the Part I Orders (also known as ‘the Soldier’s newspaper) were published, a Muster Parade had to be organized for the orders to be read out loud and, where necessary, the assignments to be explained to the soldiers. That way everyone was made aware of his tasks for the coming days or week.23 Moreover, due to the low literacy level of the Buga-Buga Soldiers, they possessed limited vocabulary and command of the English language. As a consequence, in their dealings with their superiors, the Buga-Buga soldier always responded to orders with ‘Yes, sa!’24 The Old Soldier notes that soldiering is ‘a practical job. You just have to open your eyes and look at what is going on and what is being said. That is how Buga-Buga soldiers became soldiers’.25 As a rule, as a soldier progresses through the ranks, he has to pass his knowledge and experience on to the next generation of military operatives.26 The Old Soldier remembers the particular lingua of the Buga-Buga soldier during training. For example, when the Buga-Buga soldier wanted to stress specific demands of the military to young soldiers, such as alertness, sharpness and assertiveness, he would say to them: ‘You have to be shit hot!,’27 which led to giggles and suppressed laughter because ‘if you are caught laughing at the Buga-Buga soldier, you will be in serious trouble.’28 Yet, the Old Soldier has an ambivalent relationship with the Buga-Buga soldier. The Old Soldier considers the Buga-Buga soldier to be a tough, rough and disciplined soldier. On the other hand, I observed that for the Old Soldier and other serving military personnel the Buga-Buga soldier is associated with the coups of the past, his backing of undemocratic military regimes and the breakdown of everydayness and military order in the barracks. My informants note that the Buga-Buga soldiers were used by coup-makers29 (Rawlings’ coups in 1979 and 1981 (Nugent 2004; Oquaye 2004)) due to their illiteracy, which made them easy to manipulate.30 Ultimately, the Old Soldier denounces his predecessor because ‘they engaged in a lot of bad things’– i.e. involvement in mutiny, coups and human rights violations (Oquaye 1980, 2004).31 The Buga-Buga soldier contributed to the poor image in Ghanaian society of the military due to his role during colonialism and mistreatment of civilians (Baynham 1994: 17). Although the Old Soldier desires to distance himself from the BugaBuga soldier, he acknowledges that elements of his predecessor live on through him. ‘Some of our methods are from the Buga-Buga soldier. They are still very much part of our repertoire. The Buga-Buga way is

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very much engrained in the DNA of the Ghana Armed Forces.’32 In the words of another informant: ‘We need a flavour of Buga-Buga antics and mentality because that is what makes the armed forces effective, tough and fierce.’33 Further, the Old Soldier notes that the military needs to radiate invincibility and a no-nonsense attitude. ‘That is why when society calls upon us, for example, to disperse a stubborn crowd, we resort to Buga-Buga methods. We need some roughness to do the job well. We have retained the little madness we need to scare people off.’34 In short, although the Buga-Buga soldier is no longer physically present, he lives on through the methods used in the Ghana Armed Forces, and his legacy in the barracks is clear when soldiers address their superiors with ‘Sa’ instead of ‘Sir’.

Perceptions of Change The Ghanaian military, in line with its transformation process, propagates an image of civilian friendliness. As a result, the Old Soldier proclaims the demise of the Buga-Buga soldier.35 My informants consider a firm break from the old Buga-Buga ways of operating – i.e. rough, unrefined and use of excessive force – as the way forward. Another reason why the Old Soldier claims it is the end of the Buga-Buga era is because of the reintroduction of democracy and democratic values in Ghana, after the installation of the Fourth Republic of Ghana in 1992 (Nugent 1995; Oquaye 2004). The Old Soldier observes that Ghanaians have embraced democracy, and in such an environment ‘there is no place for the rough, heavy-handed approach of the Buga-Buga soldier’.36 The Old Soldier notes that times are changing both in the barracks and society at large, and he acknowledges that the changes are discomforting. For my informants, the introduction of the ‘human face philosophy’ by the military leadership is a major source of unease as they are uncertain about how to act or behave in a changing ecology, which entails a ‘loss of place, of status and of importance’ (Bickford 2011: 118) in the Ghanaian military barracks. Although the Ghanaian military hierarchy is jealously maintained and fiercely guarded by its leaders, the Old Soldier concurs that the introduction of this philosophy will affect how discipline is maintained in the barracks and worries that this eventually will disrupt the military hierarchy. This is because the ‘human face philosophy’ does not necessarily depart from the old notion of ‘rules are rules and that when a soldier breaches them, he should be punished immediately’.37 Put differently, in the past, soldiers were punished immediately for breaching the codes of conduct. However, nowadays when a soldier commits a mi-

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nor offence, his personal circumstances are taken into account before he is disciplined. This signifies a movement away from rigidity to flexibility. An informant explained the current logic as follows: Perhaps the soldier is going through difficulties in his private life and was distracted – that is why he was unable to shine his boots. Instead of immediately punishing him, the commander may opt to order him to go home to polish his boots and report to him for inspection.

Essentially, due to the transformation process, commanders have adopted a flexible attitude. This flexibility contributes to changing the dynamics in the barracks, which, although not wholeheartedly, the Old Soldier admits he is incapable of adjusting to and dealing with adequately.38 The rigidity that used to characterize the maintenance of military discipline, authority and hierarchy in the Ghanaian barracks is shifting and gradually being replaced with a much more flexible approach in which punishment is not viewed as the only instrument for regulating behaviour and maintaining military order. Although not everyone favours this approach, in this new constellation, a warning, a reprimand or a word of advice could be enough to keep the soldier in line, rather than resorting to rigorous punishment. The human face approach contrasts with the Old Soldier’s perceptions of discipline. The Old Soldier’s idea of maintaining discipline is using punishments, such as making a soldier ‘double’ on the Regimental Square in the scorching sun, perform extra guard duties or weed large areas of grass.39 The Old Soldier struggles with the implementation of the human face philosophy because the perceived clear structures of authority appear to have become obfuscated and affect the hierarchical setting of the Ghanaian military.40 Van der Geest (1997: 20) argues that in Ghana generally, elderly people are accorded respect as a result of their advanced age. Soldiers, like the Old Soldier, who have served their country for many years expect to be respected by their subordinates for their knowledge and long service to their country. However, the Old Soldier contends that there is a ‘lack of respect’ (ibid.) as his younger colleagues ‘are not as respectful towards me as I was toward my seniors’.41 One explanation for this perceived disrespect from his younger colleagues could be due to his slightly lower educational level.42 ‘They are better educated than my generation. They don’t listen to us when we talk to them.’43 This speaks to ‘authority’ in the wider Ghanaian context, where they, according to Van der Geest (ibid.: 21), as a result of ‘their elderly age, are deemed to possess wisdom and knowledge’ (ibid.). Similarly, the SNCO expects his younger colleagues to listen to his advice, which is grounded in his professional knowledge and expertise. However, there are tensions, as the current generation of

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soldiers have their own ideas and perceptions that they aspire to put into practice, instead of following the paths and procedures laid down by the Old Soldier.44 Varying educational levels have thus created a generational gap but also issues concerning respect, while amplifying the Old Soldier’s nostalgia (Stewart 1992: 253). Another effect of the higher educational level of the younger soldiers is international human rights discourses and changes to the office of the RSM.45 Contrary to the past, the RSM but also his fellow SNCOs can no longer intimidate their subordinates into disciplined soldier subjects. ‘Now you have to be very careful, because if you bully a soldier who knows his rights, he can get you into a lot of trouble.’46 In other words, bullying and intimidation have always been illegal in the Ghanaian barracks, but the Old Soldier accepted abuse due to ‘ignorance’ of the rules and regulations of the Ghanaian military but also because ‘that was the way things were done back then’.47 Additionally, the status of the RSM and SNCOs are perceived by the Old Soldier to be ‘diminishing’ (Bickford 2011) at their units, generating uncertainty for the Old Soldier and his colleagues, as they are incapable of halting the decline of their power and are struggling to adapt to the new situation. ‘We knew what was expected of us. Now, I am not so sure.’48 After all, in the past, the roles of the SNCOs were clear, and the accompanying conventions guiding soldiers’ behaviour left no room for misunderstanding. In this part, the Old Soldier and the Buga-Buga soldier were linked both indirectly and directly: indirectly through the imprint of the antics of the Buga-Buga soldier in the DNA of the Ghanaian military, and directly because the Old Soldier and Buga-Buga soldier served together but also because of the treatment the Buga-Buga soldiers dished out to the Old Soldiers. The relationship between these two groups is complicated and ambivalent, as the Old Soldier attempts to disassociate himself from his predecessor. The Old Soldier emphasizes that he is completely different from the Buga-Buga soldier because he is against coups and the like. This gives the Old Soldier a sense of superiority over the Buga-Buga soldier, who did not heed to the discourse of ‘doing the right thing’. In sum, the chosen one-sided perspective of the Old Soldier is aimed at highlighting the ongoing changes in the barracks. The new types of soldiers presented in the subsequent typology are categorized by the Old Soldier and his associates. The typologies are created based on recruitment trajectories, attitudes towards work, the influential backers of the new soldier and perceptions of discipline. The aim of the typologies is to illustrate the transformation of Ghanaian soldiers over time and what these new types of soldiers mean for relations within the barracks, and also the way discipline in the Ghana Armed Forces is affected.

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The Computer/Internet Soldier Societal developments driving changes in the Ghanaian military have produced a technology-savvy soldier, which the Old Soldier labels the ‘Computer’ or ‘Internet’ soldier. Contrary to the Old Soldier, the Computer/ Internet Soldier is maximum a Corporal if in the OR corps, and a Captain if in the officer corps. In the OR corps, the Computer/Internet Soldier has less power and authority than the Old Soldier. However, the Old Soldier is frustrated that his authority is circumvented by his younger colleagues due to their technological savviness. Like many of their contemporaries around the world, I observed in the field that young men and women in the Ghanaian military are interested in the latest technological innovations. Schumm et al. (2004: 650) note that the ‘use of new communication media by soldiers occurs within the larger context of a significant feature of the late twentieth and early twentyfirst centuries’. Similarly, young Ghanaian soldiers use these technological innovations because their peers are using them. These youthful soldiers, I observed, are proud owners of the latest smartphones, tablets and computers, used privately and intensively. Contrary to their older colleagues, this new type of soldier does not always require a ‘pass’49 from superiors to stay in touch with their peers and friends within and outside the barracks; this has led to a gradual opening of the military barracks to the outside world and vice versa. Schumm et al. (ibid.) note that the usage of technological devices shapes and reconfigures social relations. In the Ghanaian military, this is causing tension between the young and old. The younger soldiers use the latest technological devices, while the Old Soldier has no or very little interest in technological appliances. The only modern device the Old Soldier claims to possess is his aged mobile phone.50 The Old Soldier is not technologically savvy, and this deficiency has resulted in a generational gap within the rank and file of the Ghana Armed Forces, with the Old Soldier viewing younger soldiers with suspicion and sometimes mistrust (Isaacs, Alexander and Haggard 1963: 463). I regularly observed groups of young soldiers gathered round a colleague to watch video clips or listen to the latest music releases on a mobile phone or a tablet while in the background an observing senior looked at the gathering with disdain. Additionally, the Old Soldier claims that ‘discipline is declining since the arrival of the young ones with their mobile phones’.51 From the Old Soldier’s perspective, the technological devices distract the young soldiers from their military job, as ‘they spend too much time on their smartphone, laptops and tablets’.52 There is, in short, a clash of two worlds in the Ghanaian barracks. As a result of the transformation process in the

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Ghanaian barracks, the Old Soldier and this new type of soldier have been placed at opposite ends of the spectrum with diverging views and opposing interests in the barracks. The Old Soldier and his colleagues have given these young soldiers the derogatory label of the Computer/Internet Soldier also due to their recruitment trajectory. The Computer/Internet Soldier is a young man or woman who has been in the military service for at most six years. He or she was recruited from ‘behind the computer’ – through the military’s e-recruitment platform. This is contrary to the recruitment trajectory of the Old Soldier. In the past, according to the recruitment officer of the Ghana Armed Forces, recruitments were conducted physically across the ten regions of Ghana.53 Officers and NCOs were dispatched all over the country to select potential recruits for the military.54 The selection procedure, according to the Old Soldier, was as follows: ‘The height of the potential recruit was measured. If he qualified, he moved on to the next phase.’55 At the next level, the prospective recruits had to compete against others on the racetrack, where every ten best were selected.56 After the physical aspect of the recruitment was over, the potential recruit had to take a written exam. After achieving the required score, he moved on to take the final medical examination.57 In the end, those deemed qualified were recruited into its body.58 Currently, however, the reverse is the case, as the physical selection process is set in motion after the applicant has applied online and been deemed qualified.59 The Computer Soldier first goes through a ‘remote selection process’.60 The potential recruit acquires an e-recruitment card that allows him access to the recruitment section of the military’s website,61 where he can apply online. If he meets the requirements of the armed forces, the potential recruit is invited for the physical selection and medical examination. At the final stage, he takes written exams.62 When the potential recruit satisfies the set threshold and fulfils the physical selection requirements, he is selected for military training. The Old Soldier claims to be much more motivated and qualified ‘to wear the uniform’ than the Computer/Internet Soldier63 because unlike the Computer/Internet Soldier who can afford to buy technological devices he comes from a relatively deprived background. Just like his predecessor the Buga-Buga soldier, the Old Soldier claims he did not have much choice but to enrol into the military.64 The Old Soldier claims that the Computer Soldier only went into the military because he was forced by his family in order to get him out of the family house.65 Most of my young informants confess to joining the military because they wanted to ‘stand on their own two feet by leaving the family house’;66 joining the military was one of the few options available to them, therefore confirm-

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ing the Old Soldier’s suspicion. The Old Soldier considers the Computer Soldier ‘a pampered, spoiled soldier’67 because he did not undergo the same rigorous physical selection and recruitment process as he did. Communication scholars suggest that media facilitate new ways of interacting (Schumm et al. 2004: 650). However, in this case, the opposite seems to be the case. The regular use of media and technological innovations seems to drive the Old Soldier deeper into his nostalgia while the younger soldiers continue to explore the possibilities of the new innovations. The media use seems to be creating and widening the gap between the groups. The Old Soldier claims he does not understand the Computer Soldiers because ‘they are always playing with their computers and phones’.68 Additionally, the Old Soldier has virtually no knowledge of the internet and hence cannot understand why these young soldiers are interested in it and associated modern devices. However, the Old Soldier observes that the technological devices are changing the world around him. He claims that ‘the android mobile phone has changed the military system’69 because ‘some units publish their Part I Orders online for their soldiers’.70 That is a far cry from when the Old Soldier was recruited.71 The Old Soldier suggests he cannot keep up with the new technological innovations that have found their way into the barracks and the evolving ecology. In sum, as a result of the restoration of everydayness and military order in the barracks after the critical events (Das 1995), the Ghanaian military created the disciplined soldier subject. The Computer/Internet Soldier is a subcategory of the disciplined soldier subject. Modern technological devices have created a generational gap between the Computer/Internet Soldier and the Old Soldier, with both categories of soldiers functioning in their own separate universes, as it were. While groups of young soldiers gather to share and listen to the latest music releases and video clips on the internet, the Old Soldier does not engage with this and rejects such activities. The Old Soldier, rather, looks on from a distance with irritation or disbelief because it is not ‘soldier work’. While the Old Soldier does not understand his younger colleague, the Computer/Internet Soldier in turn would rather not engage with the Old Soldier due to his negative attitude towards him. Some of my younger informants, I observed on several occasions, pretended not to see a superior approaching them while busy with their technological devises. This, on occasion, led to confrontations between young and old. Some older soldiers are bent on military conventions and demand that the Computer/Internet Soldier does ‘what is right’ according to the conventions and thus ‘pays appropriate compliments’. What happens if the younger soldier insists that he really did not see his superior approaching and refuses to do ‘what is right?’ This is a grey

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area because how does one prove that the Computer Soldier did indeed see his superior? The changing conventions and dynamics of the interactions within the barracks demand adaptation from soldiers. The Old Soldier has no clue how to adapt to the new situation and clutches more on to how he has ‘been raised’72 by the military; he is unwilling to compromise on that.

The Telephone Soldier Another new type of soldier in the barracks is the so-called ‘Telephone Soldier’. He differs from the Old Soldier in that he is a low ranking soldier or young officer. In the OR corps, he has much less power than the Old Soldier. Similar to the Computer/Internet Soldier, he uses technology but to a different end. The presence of both the Telephone Soldier and Computer/Internet Soldier represents a moment of transformation in the barracks; their presence does not unsettle each other. On occasion, they are even the same person. The following observations give insight into how Ghanaian soldiers use their mobile phones. Two young soldiers are standing under a shed, hiding from the scorching May sun. The Private Soldier is the personal bodyguard of the unit CO, and the other, a Lance Corporal, is the CO’s chauffeur. The men spend most of their day waiting for instructions from their commander to disembark. While waiting, the soldiers engage with their mobile phones, making calls, sending text messages to friends and acquaintances or exchanging pictures of their adventures with their network outside and within the barracks. I also observe that most young soldiers use their mobiles to take pictures or to record videos. In addition to pictures of his very young daughter, the Lance Corporal shows with pride pictures he has taken of the severed head of a notorious armed robber in an Accra suburb; he shot him in an anti-armed robbery operation.73 The Old Soldier considers the Telephone Soldier to be less disciplined than he was as a young soldier. Moreover, the Old Soldier doubts the military prowess of the Telephone Soldier because, he claims, like the Computer/Internet Soldier, the Telephone Soldier did not go through the rigorous selection process he underwent. In the Old Soldier’s view, the Telephone Soldier gained access to the military system mainly through his affiliation with people in higher political and military positions, using his phone to mobilize these connections. He was recruited on the socalled ‘protocol list’.74

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Connecting, De Bruijn and Van Dijk suggest, ‘signifies linking; connections indicate a bridge between objects, between things and between humans’ (2012: 7). This seems to be at the centre of the perceptions surrounding the Telephone Soldier. Not only is the Telephone Soldier connected to the world around him through his mobile phone, he is also well-connected to ‘big men’ (Nugent 1995), usually influential senior military officers, politicians and civil servants. The Telephone Soldier’s connection to people in higher political and military positions makes the Old Soldier uncomfortable, as these connections have the capability to amplify a position of deprivation and inequality (De Bruijn and Van Dijk 2012: 11). This speaks to the position of the Old Soldier; unlike the Telephone Soldier, he does not have influential backers. The young soldier, the Old Soldier claims, can tap into his network of connections, thus aggravating the Old Soldier’s deprived and unequal position in the contemporary Ghanaian barracks. This generates uncertainty for the Old Soldier but also sparks tensions between both categories of soldier. Moreover, the Old Soldier claims that with the entrance of the Telephone Soldier, the military has become ‘a place of employment for party boys’.75 The ‘party boys’, according to the Old Soldier, are political foot soldiers, who campaign for political heavy weights at the grass-roots and local level. Upon election to office, the foot soldiers, as a reward, are recruited into the security services, including the military.76 The Old Soldier claims that party boys form the majority of the Telephone Soldiers.77 The Telephone Soldier’s name derives from his excessive use of his mobile phone(s),78 which the young soldier considers an act of connecting. Connection, De Bruijn and Van Dijk (2012: 13) assert, bridges distances between places and people. In this case, paradoxically, the Telephone Soldier is not connecting to the Old Soldier who is close to him in the barracks but rather reaches out to the outside world, thereby increasing the distance between himself and the Old Soldier. The Old Soldier claims that the Telephone Soldier is always on ‘WhatsApp’ chatting with friends, an activity the Telephone Soldier prefers over ‘soldier work’.79 The Old Soldier recalls that when he was recruited, he and his mates were kept at the Recruit Training Centre for six months and deprived of any form of connection with the outside world.80 However, the Old Soldier observes that nowadays recruits are permitted a break from training so that they can connect with the outside world,81 thus making the military less fenced off from outside influence. Further, the recruits nowadays are allowed to use their mobile phones at the Recruit Training Centre.82 ‘This would have been unthinkable in our time as a recruit.’83

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Additionally, the Old Soldier claims the new types of soldiers are undermining military discipline, as the conventions governing how superiors and subordinates interact with each other are under pressure. The Old Soldier, citing the following example, claims that these rules are regularly breached by his new younger colleagues: How people talk to each other over the phone is undermining discipline. When a soldier is talking to a ‘superior’, he is still obliged to accord him the necessary military etiquette. He is obliged to respond to instructions with ‘Yes, sir’; ‘No, sir’. You are NOT allowed, as I sometimes hear, to respond with ‘Yes’, ‘No’. That is not right, but what can I do about it? I cannot do much about it because of people’s big men support.84

The Old Soldier explains that in the Ghanaian military it is compulsory to ‘pay compliments’ to a superior,85 but the Telephone Soldier regularly neglects this obligation.86 The Old Soldier observes that when the Telephone Soldier spots a superior approaching, he pretends to be on the phone speaking to another superior.87 This way the Telephone Soldier escapes his obligations.88 Although the Old Soldier observes that the conventions are compromised on occasion, he claims he is powerless to enforce discipline for fear of reprisals from the ‘big men’ backing the Telephone Soldier. The nostalgic Old Soldier recalls days gone by when everyone conformed to the norms in the barracks and those who resisted were dealt with ‘severely’.89 The Old Soldier laments that in the current constellation, such methods are forbidden, as the Telephone Soldier will contact his ‘big men’90 or ‘godfathers’91 to complain, and the times do not allow violence towards soldiers because of ‘their human rights’.92 The Old Soldier illustrates what happens when he wants to punish a soldier who has breached the rules in the current situation: If a fellow commits an offence, today you cannot take him on! He will ring his big man and hand you the phone for you to talk to him. The person on the [other end of the] line will say: ‘You are speaking to so and so [a big man]. Please drop the case against my boy.’ You will. That will be the end of the case.93

As a result of the transformation process, the ecology of the barracks is changing. The presence of the Telephone Soldier seems to generate excessive connections (De Bruijn and Van Dijk 2012) between the barracks and the outside world. The extensive traffic, however, is between the barracks and the outside world and between the Telephone Soldier and his peers, but not with the Old Soldier.

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The Old Soldier notes that the Telephone Soldiers has a completely different approach to military work, which is minimalistic. The Old Soldier suggests that the Telephone Soldier did not enrol in the military out of love for the uniform or patriotism but purely for employment, technical reasons. ‘These new guys, they do just what is asked of them; nothing more, nothing less. When they leave the unit for the lines, they switch off their phones. That means you cannot reach them, in case of extra assignments.’94 The Old Soldier describes the Telephone Soldier’s attitude as follows: wonam em pe bre (Ashanti, ‘The human body does not like tiredness’).95 In other words, from the Old Soldier’s perspective, it is ironic that the Telephone Soldier uses his mobile phone extensively but when he leaves the unit for the lines communication stops. This leads to a clash of perceptions between the Old Soldier and the Telephone Soldier concerning the correct attitude towards work. Junior military operatives (Private Soldiers, Lance Corporals, Corporals, Lieutenants and Captains), I observed, are the workhorses of the Ghanaian barrack. There is always work for them to be done. I have overheard my informants tell their peers that when the commander asks for them, they should tell him that they have not seen them – just to escape for a while. In essence, the military as a ‘total institution’ (Goffman 1961) has a wide reach when it to comes to its young operatives. They are housed in the lines and are fed in the mess or cook house together, so the military, in principle, can always access them. That is why it is perhaps understandable that young military operatives occasionally want to escape the military’s tentacles. Moreover, although the Telephone Soldier was brought into the barracks by influential backers, the big man is not always there to provide protection for the young soldier, so he will have to make his way alone. Part of the Telephone Soldier’s coping strategy, I am told, is to escape extra tasks as much as possible, thus doing just enough. The Old Soldier recalls nostalgically (Stewart 1992: 253) the good old days when soldiers had to ‘book pass’ to leave the barracks. Currently, thanks to the mobile phone, seeking permission is no longer necessary, as soldiers are connected to the world (De Bruijn and Van Dijk 2012) and can be contacted anywhere at any time by their peers, superiors and subordinates. The Old Soldier claims the mobile phone is the Telephone Soldier’s ‘best friend because he uses it to get information. He does not have to be physically present in the barracks for that. He can call a colleague when he is outside to text or WhatsApp him his duties as published in the Part I Orders’.96 In this section, I have presented the Telephone Soldier and how he relates to the Old Soldier. The Telephone Soldier is a modern young man (or woman) connected to the world through technological innovations

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like the smartphone and applications such as WhatsApp. The Old Soldier is wary of the Telephone Soldier because he was enlisted on the so-called ‘protocol-list’ and has ‘big man backing’. Politicians and other big men injecting their supporters into the military, although not spoken out loud, is generating animosity and agitation between a section of the military and the political elite, as this is considered an attempt by outsiders to infiltrate the military system. Although both have undergone the same intensive military training, the Old Soldier expresses doubts about the capabilities of the Telephone Soldier because of his recruitment through the protocol list. Finally, according to the Old Soldier, the Telephone Soldier is impacting negatively on military conventions because he does not adhere to the conventional rules. However, the Old Soldier does not dare to correct the mishaps of his younger colleagues for fear of reprisals from the Telephone Soldier’s influential backers.

The Barracks Boys The transformation process of the Ghana Armed Forces has thrown light on yet another category of soldier who is not per se a new actor but one that has taken on a new identity in the contemporary situation. The socalled ‘Barracks Boys’ have always been part of the Ghanaian military establishment. For example, the first batch of boys, recruited in 1953 into the defunct Junior Leaders’ Company (Boys’ Company), were children of colonial servicemen.97 Initially, most barracks boys were recruited into the OR corps, although some eventually became officers. Contrary to the barracks boys of the past, the majority of the current generation can be found in the officer corps, including children of both ORs and officers. The barracks boys are young soldiers and officers whose fathers or mothers have served or are still serving in the Ghanaian military. These men and women were born and bred in the barracks. Soeters, Winslow and Weibull (2006: 249) remind us that ‘endo-recruitment’ – i.e. ‘the practice of recruiting new soldiers and officers from families where one of the parents or relatives is a military operative’ (ibid.) – is common. The military assumes that children of service personnel have learned to value the importance of working in the armed forces (ibid.) but also that these children appreciate the meaning of service in arms. According to Soeters, Winslow and Weibull (ibid.), due to the barracks boys’ ‘anticipatory socialization’, they learn from a tender age to identify with the military institution, thereby gaining insights into the workings of the military. Concretely, the barracks boys learn to shine the boots and iron the military uniforms of their parents, which gives them a head start at the Recruit

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Training Centre or the GMA, as they are already acquainted with these tasks. Further, barracks boys are conversant with the rules that regulate military life and know how to tweak them to their advantage, thereby eluding punishment from the Old Soldier and others. Bickford (2011: 22) notes that soldiers combine emotion, kinship and memory, similar to the barracks boys.98 The current barracks boys, who are in the officer corps until the rank of Captain, are per definition Computer/Internet Soldiers, as they enlisted through the e-recruitment system of the Ghana Armed Forces. However, these soldiers cannot be considered Telephone Soldiers because they do not necessarily have political affiliations, although some may be children of high-ranking military personnel. The barracks boys, I observe, present the Old Soldier with a number of challenges. When these young soldiers commit an offence, the Old Soldier, due to his social affiliation and kinship ties to the barracks boys, has difficulty disciplining them. Matters get complicated when, for instance, a barracks boy’s father is the Old Soldier’s direct colleague, or neighbour. Another difficulty is that sometimes the Old Soldier is acquainted with the barracks boy from his childhood, but this child is now a commissioned officer, thus the superior of the Old Soldier. This situation can lead to awkward reactions from both parties.99 The Old Soldier explains that in such a configuration the barracks boy will in private accord him the respect due because of his elderly age (Van der Geest 1997: 20; Amoah and Afranie 2015) and family ties.100 However, at official military gatherings, the rules are clear; the military hierarchy has to be honoured at all times.101 That means ‘the officer is superior to ORs no matter his age, so we have to treat barracks boys as our superiors; even if you know him from childhood’.102 Generally, the relationship between the Old Soldier and the barracks boys can be considered cordial and amicable. That is due to their shared social ties within the barracks. However, according to the Old Soldier, these close relationships could also lead to double standards within the barracks. Put differently, the Old Soldier could be tempted to favour a barracks boy over others by giving the barracks boy pleasant chores and others unpleasant assignments. In addition, the Old Soldier may also be tempted to overlook minor offences committed by a barracks boys because he is ‘one of our own’103 while punishing others who are not barracks boys for the same offences. The Old Soldier notes that this tension is always present in his dealings with barracks boys. In everyday practices of soldiering, such as the relationship between the Old Soldier and the barracks boys, hierarchy is constantly reworked, renegotiated and reconfigured.

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You don’t want to be seen as biased, so you have to be careful. I try to treat everyone equally, but it is not easy because you know others are watching.104

In this section, I have presented the relationship between the barracks boys and the Old Soldier. Due to the breakdown of everydayness and military order in the barracks, there was a shift at the beginning of the 1980s when serving and retired military personnel advised their offspring against joining the Ghanaian military due to unrest in and around the barracks.105 However, since the beginning of the 1990s, there has been a steady ‘influx of barracks boys’ into the military, leading to the perception that when there are problems with a barracks boy, there will always be someone in the barracks to provide help. These intimate entanglements are not without challenges and pitfalls for both the Old Soldier and the barracks boys. The Old Soldier and the barracks boys are under the constant observation of others in the barracks, while the large numbers of barracks boys entering the officer corps is complicating the relationship between the Old Soldier and barracks boys.

Female Soldiers Gender is the determinant of the subcategory of the disciplined soldier subject as more women enlist and enrol into the institution. Unconfirmed rumours have it that women account for eight to nine per cent of the Ghanaian military, but the Ghanaian military for security reasons does not share this type of information. The female soldier, like the Computer/ Internet Soldier, Telephone Soldier and barracks boys, is at the beginning of their career, thus in the OR corps she is either a Private Soldier or a Lance Corporal or Corporal. She is in her early or mid twenties. Like her peers, at first sight, she appears to have much less power than the Old Soldier but has influence on her environment. The military, according to the Old Soldier, ‘should be the sole domain of men’.106 Sasson-Levy (2003: 440), writing about women in the Israeli army, observes that the military considers women in combat roles to be a hindrance to the military system, damaging the efficiency of the male-dominated, war-fighting machine. The Old Soldier uses similar arguments to disregard women’s role in the Ghanaian military. He argues that soldiering is not for women due to the physical demands of soldiering and combat. Sasson-Levy (ibid.: 444) notes that the Israeli military plays the gender card in explaining why it is not integrating women into combat roles, pointing to physiological differences between men and

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women and to matters such as sexual attraction and the probability of women getting raped as prisoners of war (ibid.). Although Ghanaian soldiers hardly engage in combat, the Old Soldier asserts that combat conditions are challenging because the combat soldier will sometimes have to go days without food and the possibility of taking care of his personal hygiene. The Old Soldier claims that women are incapable of coping with such conditions.107 However, the biggest problem the Old Soldier has with female soldiers is how these young soldiers enter the military. The Old Soldier claims that most of these women are recruited via the ‘protocol list’ or brought into the military by big men from outside the barracks or senior officers with amorous entanglements to these women.108 The Old Soldier suggests that these young women are usually put to work close to their big men.109 The nature of these accusations makes it impossible to substantiate with written evidence. Nonetheless, the Old Soldier’s statements illustrate his perception of the ongoing transformation process in the Ghanaian military in which increasingly there is a place for more women. The Old Soldier suggests that female soldiers are currently a source of indiscipline in the Ghana Armed Forces. The senior men, sometimes they will be dating some of the young female soldiers. When that happens, the other women in the group will stop obeying him. That is because the women will feel that their colleague is being unfairly favoured because she is dating the big man. Sometimes, when the big man is dating the woman and he gives her an order, she will not execute it. He, in turn, will try to get the work done by asking others to do it. The other women will refuse. This definitely affects discipline. Besides, sometimes some women are also jealous of each other. Why is he dating her and not me? That leads to tensions within the group.110

These tensions and perceptions affect the authority of the commander. In light of this, ‘the Old Soldier claims he has difficulties disciplining the female soldier, as this could create the wrong impression. He notes that ‘it is a dicey issue when I want to sanction a female soldier who has committed an offence. My colleagues may think that I tried to seduce her and I failed’111 or that he is out for revenge.112 Officers and SNCOs, according to the Old Soldier, are aware of these perceptions, claiming: ‘We are careful when dealing with female soldiers.’113 The young female soldiers, the Old Soldier claims, abuse the apprehension their superiors have in their dealings with them by ‘misbehaving’.114 To sum up, from the perspective of the Old Soldier, females do not belong in the Ghanaian military, as combat conditions are harsh, and in his

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view, women are not suited to deal with such difficulties. The relationship between the Old Soldier and the female soldier is characterized also by uncertainty, partly because she was recruited through the protocol list. That is contrary to the Old Soldier’s own recruitment trajectory, which makes the Old Soldier also question her military prowess. Secondly, the Old Soldier suggests that some women are amorously entangled to big men and senior officers, which makes disciplining a female soldier a complicated affair for fear of generating the wrong perceptions and attracting the wrath of her influential backers.

Counter Perspectives from the New Types of Soldiers Up to this point, I have presented the ‘collective narratives’ (Baker 2010, 2013) of the Old Soldier as an analytical position to illustrate the changing times. In this part, I present the perspectives of the new types of soldiers in the barracks. The perspectives of the Computer/Internet Soldier and the Telephone Soldier will be presented together, as they overlap in their views. The barracks boys and female soldiers have peculiarities that call for separate and deeper engagement.

Perceptions of the Computer/Internet Soldier and the Telephone Soldier Computer/Internet Soldiers, just like Telephone Soldiers, I observed, are the young soldiers who do the errands, man the sentries and drive commanders around. Mobility is also their first counterargument against the narratives of the Old Soldier. It is strange and unfair that our senior men call us names. They use us all the time; they are always sending us from one place to the other. We don’t have rest. We don’t have time for anything other than soldier work. Do I know that they call us Telephone Soldiers? Yes, sometimes they make fun of you, by saying: ‘Look at the Telephone Soldier!’ And then they laugh out loud. It makes me angry a little bit.115

The Telephone Soldier and his colleagues, it can be concluded from the above quote, are unhappy with the name-calling of their senior colleagues. Additionally, they consider themselves important members of the Ghanaian military because they do work that the Old Soldier deems himself too important to do. The Telephone Soldier argues that due to constraints attached to his job and his position in the military hierarchy, there is hardly any time and space for other activities. Why is the mobile

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phone so important to the Telephone Soldier? And what does he use it for? I don’t always have time to go to the family house. I use my phone to call my family and my friends. My phone is so important to me. Without it, I will have to travel to see the people who are important to me. I also WhatsApp with my friends and I listen to some music on my phone when I am in my room.116

Communication devices such as the mobile phone bridges distances not only between places but between people (De Bruijn and Van Dijk 2012: 13). In this case, the Telephone Soldier highlights time constraints as one of the reasons for his excessive use of the mobile phone. The Telephone Soldier’s use of his phone is an effort to bridge the distance between himself and his loved ones, between the barracks and his family home and between the barracks and the world outside. He also connects the barracks to the outside world through the modern application WhatsApp. He also listens to music on his phone. All my young informants admit that apart from the mobile phone they used devices such as tablets, laptops and computers. They also acknowledge that they enrolled online through the e-recruitment system of the Ghana Armed Forces, thus confirming the label of Computer/Internet Soldier. The Computer/Internet Soldier and the Telephone Soldier are aware that their senior men consider them inferior soldiers in comparison to the Old Soldier partly because of their use of modern technology. However, my young informants strongly reject the Old Soldier’s argument. It is not fair for them to call us ‘coward soldiers’. We are all soldiers like them [senior men], with the same training. Maybe we are even more modern than them. But we respect them because of their age and experience. It will be nice if our seniors also respect[ed] us.117

My young informants concur that the Old Soldier has more experience and therefore deserves respect (Van der Geest 1997: 20). In contrast, Computer/Internet and Telephone Soldiers seem to suggest that they are ‘modern’ because they were trained with the latest military training methods. Moreover, they have the capability to use modern technological devices, which their older colleagues are incapable of. The juxtaposition of perceptions illustrates the tension created by the transformation process within the barracks between new and old groups. While the young soldier is more comfortable with the new regime, the Old Soldier is less so, thus making military transformation a complicated endeavour. My young soldier informants point out that there is a distinction between how (young) officers and Old Soldiers interact with the new ac-

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tors in the barracks. An informant notes that officers tend to be more inclusive, while the Old Soldier and his associates have the tendency to exclude them by amplifying the dissonant power relations between themselves and the new actors. How about the persistent view among the Old Soldiers and their associates that the Telephone Soldier uses his phone to leak barracks information to his big men outside the barracks? I know people from influential families. That is not new in Ghana. But I don’t know anybody who uses his phone to make calls to big men. I can’t tell you anything about that. I haven’t heard that before. We are just soldiers. That is all.118

And what are the perceptions of these young soldiers on the issue of the ‘protocol list’? I joined because I needed a job. I was helped by an uncle who is a civilian employee for the military. I don’t have big men behind me so I have to be careful with what I do. It was difficult for me to find a job after school. My job is important to me. It helps me take care of my family. I have heard of the protocol list; everybody talks about it. When the senior men talk to us [young soldiers], they always say that we have big men supporting us. I am sure it is true that there are people who are relatives of big men, but I don’t know anyone. I am a simple soldier.119

Although my young informants acknowledge the existence of the protocol list and ‘big men’ (Nugent 1995: 22), I observe that they were reluctant to discuss these topics. Of course, the young soldiers were aware of colleagues with influential uncles, fathers and brothers, but personally they did not hail from influential families and did not have the support of powerful big men. Some of my informants completely rejected the notion that some soldiers had big men backers, claiming that the military has its own governing rules and therefore big men cannot influence the course of events and actions within the barracks, and thus the talk about big men is a complete fabrication. The protocol list is also a sensitive issue in the Ghanaian barracks, as it touches on ‘political patronage’ (Sørensen 2011: 234). My young interlocutors are reluctant to be associated with this phenomenon. Although my informants admit to gaining their access to the military through family networks, none, however, wanted to be associated with big men. Yet, the fact that soldiers point to others with influential backers indicates that it is sensitive for soldiers to admit having links to big men, as they are aware that their colleagues’ perceptions of them and their behaviour towards them are likely to be shaped by this knowledge. Moreover, my

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informants’ reaction undermines their statement that the practice is a complete fiction. The relationship between these new categories of soldiers and the Old Soldier can be characterized as tense; it is informed by diverging perceptions. Although both groups have to live and work together where possible, they avoided each other. To the Old Soldier, the new types of soldiers not only represent a new world he is ignorant of but also the changing conventions and ecology that are emerging as a result of the transformation process in the barracks.

Barracks Boys’ Perceptions In my interactions in the barracks, my interlocutors with no prior links to the military complained about the ‘invasion of the barracks boys’ and that ‘there are too many barracks boys in the system’.120 Moreover, due to the barracks boys’ background, they are considered ‘stubborn and indisciplined’.121 However, the barracks boys completely rejected these views.122 Who says there are too many of us in the system? Why are there too many of us? I know a few guys whose parents are serving or have served in the military. I think it is normal to follow in the footsteps of your parents. When you qualify for service, the military selects you. That is all there is to it.123

Opponents of the barracks boys suggest that there is an over-representation of barracks boys in the military, not due to their qualifications but rather due to their family and kinship ties. However, my barracks boys informants refute this perception, arguing that they serve based on their own merits and qualification and not based on their family background. Additionally, they argue that there is not an over-representation of barracks boys because those in the Ghanaian military system are selected not based on their background but rather on their expertise and soldierly qualities. I think we are very good soldiers because we already know the demands of the military. We have seen our parents go through the [military] service. We knew the basics already. The military doesn’t have to teach us everything all over again.124

The familiarity with the military is advantageous to the barracks boys and the military. However, this privileged position of having prior knowledge of the military system before recruitment has also attracted criticism, agitation and even envy, mainly from those in the barracks with no prior engagements with the military.

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Barracks boys’ background, my informants contend, is a burden, as they have to battle prejudices. Barracks boys note that due to agitation (and envy), they are singled out and unfairly treated. My informants base their claim on particular experiences, such as when a barracks boy gets into trouble: ‘opponents talk foul about us’.125 Lastly, although my informants note that they are not necessarily evaluated differently by their superiors, some barracks boys had the impression that opponents were prejudiced against them because ‘we are judged differently and harshly by our environment than other groups, for who we are’.126 In sum, there is a complex configuration of opinions about barracks boys; not only views of old versus new but also the opinions of those who are neither an Old Soldier nor a barracks boy. The barracks boy embodies elements of the entire spectrum of the transformation process; he lives in both worlds, knowing the Old Soldier’s life through his parent’s generation and the new generation that he is part of. He holds the potential to reconcile the tension, thus bringing both worlds together.

The Difficult Life of Female Soldiers in the Ghanaian Barracks The relationship between the female soldier and the Old Soldier is tense. Discussing gender relations within the Swedish Armed Forces, Eduards notes that ‘women tend to be looked at in degrading ways and their bodily integrity is questioned’ (2012: 54). Similarly, Ghanaian female soldiers can attest to this treatment, as their assessment is usually not based on their military performance but rather on their sexuality. An informant elaborates on her experiences in the Ghanaian barracks. My male colleagues try to seduce me all the time, but I tell them I have a serious relationship. Some senior men find it difficult to accept ‘no’ from a young soldier or from a female soldier for that matter. When young female soldiers pass out and go to their various units, some senior men try to sleep with as many girls as possible. You know, some girls want favours from these men, so they go along. But [male] soldiers talk a lot about their adventures with the women they’ve conquered. Before you know, everyone in the barracks knows what you’ve done and with whom.127

As is clear from the above quote, some colleagues of the Old Soldier, despite complaints about the female soldier, try to take advantage of young female soldiers. My female informant observes that her older male colleagues aim to sleep with as many young women as possible when they freshly arrive at the unit and are ignorant of the workings of the military system. The intentions described by my interlocutor, but also the consequences of rejection, in my view form the basis of the tense rela-

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tionship between the Old Soldier and female soldiers. Moreover, the tensions these developments generate can compromise discipline at the unit as well as the military’s everyday practice, as is illustrated in the following quote: Nowadays, my OC does not allow me to go on night duties. I used to go, but now I don’t. That is because when you are on sentry after a while you are relieved. Then you go to rest. Sometimes while I am sleeping, some of my male colleagues will be pecking me or trying to kiss me. I reported the matter to my platoon Warrant Officer and my OC. That is why I don’t go on night duties anymore.128

Although the soldiers involved in the case stated above were punished, the young female soldier’s commander does not deem it safe enough to allow her to perform night duties. To protect the female soldier from sexual harassment, the OC has adjusted his platoon’s planning. In support of the young soldier, my senior female informants note that there is not enough guidance and protection for young female soldiers, especially at the beginning of their careers, allowing older soldiers to take advantage of their innocence and vulnerability. ‘To tackle this unequal relation’ (Mills 2003; Afrim-Narh 2006) in the Ghanaian barracks, my female informants note that there has to be strong unity and solidarity among women, as togetherness is what is missing. A young female officer narrates the lack of solidarity she experiences: There are many female officers in the system; I know most of them. There is not one I can say that I trust to talk to about issues of sexual intimidation. My peers and I have the impression that if you confide in someone, that same person can turn around and use something you’ve told her in confidence against you. That makes it difficult to confide.129

What about the ORs? If you are lucky when you pass out, you can find someone to trust – someone who will guide you so that you don’t make mistakes. Someone who will tell you about the dos and don’ts of the barracks. There is an unwritten rule that a female soldier who is unmarried after ten years in the service will find it difficult to find a husband, at least in the barracks. People will think that she has had too many sexual partners. It is important to have senior women to teach the young ones, but it is not always available.130

The women in the Ghanaian barracks are not organized well enough to be able to tackle the unequal power and gender relations in the barracks. The lack of solidarity between young and old means that the young

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military operatives are uncomfortable approaching their experienced colleagues for support or to confide in them. Women stress the need for a network and support system for them in the barracks. Why is there not such a system in place? My seasoned female informants note that if they set up a network for women only, their male counterparts will take advantage of the situation. ‘The males will view all our actions through this prism. They will even start looking at our ranks as inferior. It will basically backfire.’131 In short, the conditions in the barracks are not conducive for female soldiers to organize and protect themselves, thus contributing to and strengthening gender inequality in the barracks. The Old Soldier also claims that the disciplinary standards of the Ghanaian military are declining due to the enrolment of women. Surprisingly, there are women in the Ghanaian military who share this view; they blame their female counterparts for this perception: Some of us exploit our sexuality. I mean that some women are aware that men want something from them. They abuse their sexuality to cut corners. If she is, for example, to do ten sit-ups during an exercise, she will do just four or five and then smile to the man recording the results. These women are giving those of us who are diligent, disciplined and hardworking a bad name. Moreover, they manipulate their male colleagues because they know that when they engage in a discussion with him, he will back off because of the public opinion.132

My informants highlight abuses of sexuality as a source of tension in the relationship between males and females in the barracks. My interlocutors note that women on occasions abuse their sexuality to gain favours from their male counterparts. ‘For example, some women are unfit for service, so they manipulate their male counterparts recording the sports results using their sexuality to gain better results.’133 Central to this part of the section have been the subcategories of the disciplined soldier subject, who emerged in the slipstream of restoring everydayness and military order in the barracks after the breakdown. In my presentation of these types, I have examined their relationship to the nostalgic Old Soldier and why their presence is making the Old Soldier uncomfortable and insecure. The emergence of these new types of soldiers is also changing the social conventions in the barracks. The social conventions are influenced by the use of technological devices, such as the mobile phone. Technological innovations have also played a role in creating a generational gap between the Old Soldier and these new players in the barracks. The presence of these new actors has been accompanied by insecurities and tensions, which illustrates that the

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transformation process is more than just structural changes; it affects attitudes, interactions and the character of the Ghana Armed Forces as a human institution. Unlike the Old Soldier, who is not fond of change, the new types of soldiers have already been trained and indoctrinated with the notions that underpin the disciplined soldier subject, and that leaves the Ghana Armed Forces in a good position vis-à-vis the goals of its transformation process.

Conclusion In this chapter, we have seen that the transformation process in the Ghanaian military goes beyond institutional changes and includes human interactions within the barracks. The human component of the transformation exercise of the Ghana Armed Forces contributes to it being unpredictable. In the slipstream of resuscitating everydayness and military order in the Ghanaian military barracks, the creation of the disciplined soldier subject has resulted in the arrival of new types of soldiers. New actors, in this case, also mean that existing conventions and ways of doing things are challenged or renegotiated. Confrontations between the new and old actors, but also the testing of the boundaries of conventions, is generating tensions within the Ghanaian barracks, as is evident from my examination of the new types of soldiers and how they relate to the nostalgic Old Soldier – who has become uncomfortable and insecure. Social conventions are under pressure as a result of the new actors’ use of technological devices, such as the mobile phone, which the Telephone Soldier is so fond of, or the tablet computer, which is so appealing to the Computer/Internet Soldier. Additionally, the use of technological innovations in the barracks is contributing to the creation of a generational gap between the Old Soldier and the new players in the barracks. As a result, the Old Soldier has difficulties adjusting to the new situation with its new conventions, making him long for a future outside the barracks – i.e. retirement and pension. An advantage of the presence of the new actors in the barracks is that these new soldiers are more susceptible to the ongoing transformation process due to their newness to the military system, age, affiliations, interest in technology and educational background. Contrary to the (new) disciplined soldier subject, the Buga-Buga soldier and the Old Soldier represent a different era of subjection in the Ghanaian military; a harsher regime of corporal punishment and disciplining. The new types of soldiers – as will become clear in the next chapter – are invaluable to the ongoing transformation process. The new actors, who

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trained and socialized in line with the conditions of the transformation process and the disciplined soldier subject, are the future of the Ghana Armed Forces. Further, these new players are continuously re-subjected through non-corporeal means of subjection. The new kids on the block are expected to pass on their training, conditioning and socialization based on the principles of the transformation process to the next generation of soldiers. Finally, the transformation process of the Ghanaian military focuses not only on institutional changes but also takes human interactions into account. The Ghana Armed Forces, after all, are a human institution with human relationships. That is essential in examining the transformation process of the Ghanaian military.

NOTES 1. Informal conversation with Major A., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (23 March 2014). 2. I neither agree nor disagree with his perceptions. 3. My informants tell me that the Ghanaian parliament is currently debating whether to expand the service years from twenty five to thirty years. 4. There are a few exceptions, though. Sometimes an exception is made for an SNCO who occupies a managerial office, such as the Force Sergeant Major (FSM) or Academy Sergeant Major. The military could opt temporarily to retain the services of this soldier. Currently, there are political discussions about increasing the service years of ORs to thirty. However, a majority of SNCOs are sceptical about these proposals as they were hoping to retire earlier and move on to pursue other business interests. 5. Ibid. 6. The old-timers have the characteristics of the Buga-Buga soldier. The oldtimer was recruited at the end of the 1960s and early 1970s. These soldiers had virtually no education and served for many years but were still Lance Corporals and Corporals at the time of retirement due to lack of promotion/ progression opportunities. Additionally, because these soldiers lacked educational skills, they were unable to attend career advancement courses and thus remained in the lower ranks. However, according to my informants, the old-timers had a deep understanding of their soldierly tasks and were thus able to teach others how ‘to be proper soldiers’ – i.e. a soldier who is disciplined, dresses properly, knows his drills and is a good fighter. It must be noted that the Buga-Buga soldier that the Old Soldier encountered when he was recruited into the Ghana Armed Forces was a descendant of the colonial Buga-Buga soldier, not the original colonial soldier. (Information from informal conversations with SNCOs and officers from various units at various barracks throughout December 2013 till January 2015).

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7. Ibid. 8. Informal conversations with SNCOs (Warrant Officers Class I A., T., D.B.), Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (in the months March and April 2014). 9. Ibid. 10. Ibid. 11. Interview with ex-Warrant Class I O., Accra, Ghana (5 January 2015). 12. He is also known as the ‘Bully Bully Soldier’ because he bullied civilians to get his way. Or the ‘Yes, Sa, Masser Soldier’ due to his extreme obedience to his superiors. 13. Interview with Warrant Officer Class II O.-Y., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (13 March 2014). 14. Informal conversation with Lieutenant Commander A.L., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (6 June 2014). 15. Interview with Senior Warrant Officer P., Kamina Barracks, Tamale, Ghana (8 August 2014). 16. Ibid. 17. Ibid. 18. Informal conversation with Lieutenant Commander A.L., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (5 June 2014). 19. Ibid. 20. Interview with Chief Petty Officer A., Eastern Naval Command, Tema, Accra, Ghana (9 July 2014). 21. Interview with Warrant Officer P., Kamina Barracks, Tamale, Ghana (9 August 2014). 22. Ibid. 23. Interview with Warrant Officer Class I N.T., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (16 March 2014). 24. Ibid. 25. Interview with Warrant Officer Class I P., Kamina Barracks, Tamale, Ghana (9 August 2014). 26. Ibid. 27. Interview with Warrant Officer Class I N., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (4 March 2014). 28. Ibid. 29. Ibid. 30. Interview with Chief Petty Officer A., Eastern Naval Command, Tema, Accra, Ghana (9 July 2014). 31. Interview with Sergeant H., Michel Camp, Tema, Ghana (14 May 2014). 32. Interview with Lieutenant A., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (15 March 2014). 33. Interview with Lieutenant Commander A., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (6 June 2014). 34. Interviews with Lieutenant Commander A., Burma Camp, Accra Ghana and Colonel B., Otu Barracks, Teshie, Ghana (9 September 2014). 35. Ibid.

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36. Interview with Warrant Officer P., Kamina Barracks, Tamale, Ghana (9 August 2014). 37. Interview with Lieutenant A., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (25 March 2014). And informal conversation with Warrant Officer Class I N.T., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (15 March 2014). 38. Interview with Warrant Officer Class I N.T., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (16 March 2014). 39. Ibid. 40. Ibid. 41. Interview with Warrant Officer Class II S., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (12 March 2014). 42. This process is not taking place in the Ghanaian society as a whole, because access to education is shaped by economic and regional inequalities and thus does not generally threaten the position of elders in society. In addition, the elderly usually control capital in Ghanaian society (GSS 2008). 43. Interview with Warrant Officer Class II Y.-O., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (13 March 2014). 44. Interview with Lance Corporal B., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (18 April 2014). 45. Interview with Warrant Officer P., Kamina Barracks, Tamale, Ghana (8 August 2014). 46. Interview with acting RSM, Warrant Officer Class I E., Accra, Ghana (8 May 2014). Similar sentiments were expressed by other RSMs and Base Coxswains that I interviewed during my fieldwork. 47. Interview with Warrant Officer Class II Y.-O., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (13 March 2014). 48. Interview with Warrant Officer Class II S., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (12 March 2014). 49. ‘Pass’: a soldier is required to seek permission to leave the barracks. That is called ‘seek pass’. 50. I observed that occasionally an SNCO may own an extraordinarily flashy mobile phone but generally most of them had average, old-looking phones. 51. Interview with Warrant Officer Class I B.R., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (27 March 2014). 52. Ibid. 53. Interview with Lieutenant Colonel A., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (15 June 2014). 54. Ibid. 55. Interview with Warrant Officer Class I D.R., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (27 March 2014). 56. Ibid. 57. Ibid. 58. Interview with Lieutenant Colonel A., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (15 June 2014).

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59. The critique of the Old Soldier regarding the Computer/Internet Soldier’s recruitment trajectory is unfair. The reason the Ghana Armed Forces no longer recruits physically like in the past is that there is so much competition for the few positions on offer in the military that the Ghana Armed Forces first has to pre-select based on the applicants’ eligibility. This is done digitally in line with current trends and tallies with the professionalization discourse. It is not the fault of the potential cadet or recruit that the Ghanaian military has introduced this recruitment system. 60. Ibid. 61. http://gafrecruitment.com.gh/ (accessed 13 August 2015). 62. Interview with Lieutenant Colonel A., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (15 June 2014). 63. Interview with Warrant Officer Class I A., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (24 March 2014). 64. Ibid. 65. Ibid. 66. Interview with Lieutenant K.S., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (5 March 2014). 67. Ibid. 68. Informal conversation with three Warrant Officers, Kamina Barracks, Tamale, Ghana (8 August 2014). 69. Informal conversation with Warrant Officer Class II A., Kamina Barracks, Tamale, Ghana (8 August 2014). Cocoa farming is big business, as it is one of the main export commodities of the West African nation. There are a lot of people in rural areas involved in the business. 70. Ibid. 64 Infantry Regiment publishes its Part I Orders online for its soldiers to access. 71. Ibid. 72. Ibid. 73. The Ghana Armed Forces worked in collaboration with the Ghana Police Service to combat armed robbery in Operation Halt or Operation Calm Life. See https://www.modernghana.com/news/87158/1/operation-calm-life-re-launc hed.html (accessed 4 December 2015). 74. My interlocutors claim that whenever there is recruitment, members of parliament, ministers politicians, judges, high-ranking civil servants and the like bring their kith and kin and other relatives to be recruited into the military. These high-ranking members of Ghanaian society place their recruits to be on a so-called protocol list. Protocol in this case is a synonym for, especially, ministers and members of parliament. Some of my interlocutors who have instructed at the Recruit Training Centre claim that at times they receive a list of people who have not gone through the selection process but are to be trained. I never saw a protocol list, but it is clear that in military circles such lists have been in circulation and are still in circulation. The officer responsible for recruitment did not deny the existence of such a list, although he was quick to add that these lists had come into circulation before his tenure.

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74. Interview with Warrant Officer Class I B., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (28 March 2014). 75. Ibid. 76. Ibid. 77. Ibid. 78. In my interactions with soldiers, throughout my fieldwork, this name kept coming up. Some young soldiers have more than one phone due to the sometimes poor network coverage in parts of Ghana. 79. Interview with Warrant Officer Class I N.T., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (19 March 2014). 80. Ibid. 81. Ibid. 82. Ibid. 83. Ibid. 84. Interview with Warrant Officer Class I B., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (12 March 2014). 85. Ibid. 86. Interview with Warrant Officer Class II S., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (17 April 2014). 87. Interview with Warrant Officer Class I B.R., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (12 March 2014). 88. Ibid. 89. Interview with Chief Fleet Petty Officer A., Eastern Naval Command, Tema, Accra, Ghana (7 July 2014). 90. Interview with Warrant Officer Class I E., Michel Camp, Tema, Accra, Ghana (7 May 2014). Big men in this context are usually politicians, judges and other high-ranking civil servants. 91. Godfathers are usually senior officers who look after a family member or the family member of a close associate in the military. When the soldier gets into trouble, the godfather will get him or her out of it. It must be emphasized that it depends on the offence. It is said that godfathers intervene in minor offences, but with serious offences such as rape, theft or murder, he will back off because his reputation could be damaged. 92. Interview with Warrant Officer Class I, Kamina Barracks, Tamale, Ghana (9 August 2014). 93. Interview with Warrant Officer Class II H., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (27 March 2014). 94. Ibid. 95. Interview with Staff Sergeant H., Michel Camp, Tema, Accra, Ghana (14 May 2014). 96. Informal conversations with Warrant Officers, Kamina Barracks, Tamale, Ghana (5 August 2014). 97. Historian of the Ghana Armed Forces Museum, in Kumasi (14 January 2015).

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98. The term barracks boys could be used as derogatory term for mischievous young men and women who live in the barracks. These are young men and women who are not respected in the barracks because of their behaviour. Some barracks boys are known to steal from families in the barracks, for instance. 99. Various discussions with Lieutenants S., Lieutenant D., Major M. and Warrant Officer Class I N.T. (March through to June 2014). 100. Interview with Warrant Officer Class I N.T., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (18 April 2014). 101. Ibid. 102. Ibid. 103. Ibid. 104. Ibid. 105. Informal conversation with General H. (rtd), Accra, Ghana (14 April 2014). 106. Various SNCOs regularly expressed this view to me in both formal and informal conversations throughout my fieldwork period. 107. Interview with Air Force Warrant Officer Class I D., Air Force Base, Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (5 July 2014). 108. Interview with Warrant Officer Class I N., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (13 May 2014). 109. By the way, ‘OR and OR are allowed to get involved with each other and marry. A Staff Sergeant can, for example, marry a Warrant Officer. However, it would be difficult for a Warrant Officer to marry a Lance Corporal. That is because when there is a mess function for Warrant Officers, the Lance Corporal cannot attend because she is not allowed in the SNCOs mess so the WO will have to go alone’. – Interview with Military Police Air Force Base, Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (22 July 2014). 109. Ibid. 110. Interview with Military Police Woman, Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (22 July 2014). 111. Interview with Warrant Officer Class I A., Michel Camp, Tema, Accra, Ghana (15 May 2014). 112. Interview with Chief Petty Officer A., Eastern Naval Command Base, Tema, Accra, Ghana (15 July 2014). 113. Informal conversation with Warrant Officer Class I D.R., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (4 April 2014). 114. Interview with Chief Petty Officer A., Eastern Naval Command, Tema, Accra, Ghana (15 July 2014). 115. Interview with Lance Corporal S., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (8 April 2014). 116. Informal conversation with Lance Corporal O., Kamina Barracks, Tamale, Ghana (6 August 2014). 117. Informal conversation with Lance Corporal K., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (10 April 2014).

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118. Informal conversations with Private Soldier S. and Lance Corporal O., Michel Camp, Tema, Accra, Ghana (7 May 2014). 119. Informal conversation with a young soldier. For privacy reasons, I have decided not to add any more information. 120. Informal conversation with Warrant Officer Class II H., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (9 April 2014). 121. Ibid. 122. The perception is that there is an over-representation of barracks boys in the Ghanaian military. However, this view cannot be confirmed with numbers, although there is a strong perception in the barracks based on, for example, recurring surnames associated with Ghanaian military family traditions. 123. Interview with Lieutenant E., Kamina Barracks, Tamale, Ghana (6 August 2014). 124. Informal conversations with Lieutenants S. and K., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (March and April 2014). 125. Ibid. 126. Ibid. 127. Interview with a female soldier, Accra, Ghana (18 August 2014). 128. Informal conversation with a military woman, Accra, Ghana (18 August 2014). 129. Informal conversation with an officer, a woman, Accra, Ghana (20 September 2014). 130. Informal conversation with a female soldier. For privacy reasons, I provide no further details. 131. Interview with Colonel D., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (24 June 2014). 132. Informal conversation with a soldier, woman, Accra, Ghana (3 September 2014). 133. Ibid.

✫ c ha p te r 5

Factors of Continual Subjection

he creation of the disciplined soldier subject following the breakdown of everydayness and military order in the Ghanaian barracks has been one of the crucial measures taken in the transformation process of the Ghana Armed Forces; adding the human element to the equation. In line with Foucault (1977), Butler asserts that the creation of the subject is a project that calls for continuous re-subjection (Butler 1997: 84). In this chapter, I assess the avenues through which the Ghanaian disciplined soldier subject is continually re-subjected. The first instrument in the transformation process of the Ghanaian military that serves as a tool of repetitive subjectification (ibid.) of the disciplined soldier subject is the introduction of education, both within and outside the barracks. Education in the Ghanaian military entails attending required career advancement courses at renowned military educational institutions (such as Military Academy and Training Schools (MATS), Kofi Annan International Peacekeeping Training Centre (KAIPTC) and Ghana Armed Forces Command and Staff College (GAFCSC)) in close collaboration with Ghanaian tertiary public institutions. Additionally, military operatives attend international military courses, which turn them into ‘boundary crossers’ (Gupta and Ferguson 1997) who learn standardized norms in the international military arena. This knowledge is brought back and translated and applied in the local setting. Education also includes soldiers educating themselves at tertiary institutions outside the barracks. The second crucial instrument in the transformation process of the Ghanaian military and the continual subjection of the disciplined soldier subject is the deployment of Ghanaian soldiers for international peacekeeping missions. The question, then, is how do peacekeeping missions contribute to the continuous subjection of the disciplined soldier subject in the Ghana Armed Forces? This question will feature prominently in the second section of this chapter.

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In the final section, I draw conclusions about the role of these instruments in the transformation process of the Ghana Armed Forces and address how the subjection of the Ghanaian soldier through these instruments contributes to the transformation of the Ghana Armed Forces and leads to a disciplined soldier subject who refrains from orchestrating coups and undermining the state.

Education as a Tool of Transformation Education in sub-Saharan countries, including Ghana, is important, as it is associated with positive values (Jeffery 2005: 1). Education is considered the ultimate instrument of social mobility (Banya and Elu 2001: 4). Banya and Elu (ibid.: 3) note that in the post-colonial era, ‘economists and other social scientists had realized . . . the close links or reciprocal relations between education and development.’ Education was thus the deliverer of development, as it was the space in which educated people with marketable skills and knowledge were produced, which in the end would generate economic growth (ibid.). My interlocutors expressed similar perceptions linking education to social and economic progress. Additionally, I observed that Ghanaians take pride in their academic credentials, especially those with Master’s and PhD degrees, as these are socially prestigious achievements. Although education may buttress and reflect socio-economic inequality (Bourdieu 1988 [1984]), education in Ghana is generally viewed as a passport to success (ibid.).

Education and the Ghanaian Barracks It is a warm, late September afternoon on the campus of the University of Ghana, on the outskirts of the capital city Accra. The campus is bustling with life; busy young people are moving up and down the roads of the university. Along these roads, students regularly stop to greet acquaintances, mates and peers. In this maelstrom of movement are two young officers returning from their classes at the Faculty of Law. The officers are walking from the classrooms towards the car park when they bumped into three acquainted students (two young women and a sturdy young man) from other courses. The military operatives can be easily identified because of their uniform. The students exchange pleasantries, latest campus news and gossips and regularly burst into giggles and loud laughter. The sturdy young man points out that he has not seen his mil-

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itary student colleagues for a while. ‘I thought you guys would not be coming to the classes this semester! I thought you were travelling!’ he says to the officers. ‘No, no. We are around,’ one of the officers responds. The officers explain that they were going to be on a mission, but ‘we asked to be excused so that we can attend the classes this semester. We want to have a solid basis for the third year.’ After exchanging telephone numbers, the group disperse, with the officers heading to their car in the car park while the others walk towards the main university road. The above ethnographic example is not exceptional and exemplifies my assertion that many military operatives are enrolled at various tertiary institutions across the country because education is an important theme in the Ghanaian barracks. For instance, my interlocutors are aware of which of their commanders has earned a Master’s degree or possess a double Master’s degree. Additionally, the educational level of the disciplined soldier subject distinguishes him from his predecessors – the Buga-Buga soldier and the Old Soldier – who were semi-literate. The higher educational level of the disciplined soldier subject is a source of pride. In any case, education in the Ghanaian barracks is perceived to be paramount to a person’s development even though ‘only’ in terms of prestige rather than rank. That is why many of my serving informants are pursuing a higher education degree, if they do not already have a university degree. Pursuance of certificates, usually in Law, Political Science, Economics or Business Administration at tertiary institutions has become the norm in the Ghanaian military. My informants note that this development can be traced back to 1988, when the late General Mensah-Wood published a report in which he stated that: The ever-improving sophistication of modern weapons and equipment, their application and usage will definitely demand troops with higher educational qualifications. Opportunity should therefore be given to troops to broaden their education.1

In the late General’s view, modern weapons were becoming increasingly complex to operate and therefore called for educated soldiers to be able to safely but also effectively operate these modern ‘instruments of violence’ (First 1970: 6). The General’s statement not only paved2 the way for soldiers to pursue their personal educational goals but also marked the beginning of raising the educational threshold for entrance into the Ghanaian military. Since the Buga-Buga soldier was semi-literate, my informants argue that the General’s report marked the end of recruiting the Buga-Buga soldier into the Ghanaian military, as from then onwards only people with a minimum required education level were selected for recruitment. Cur-

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rently, the minimum entry requirement for the Ghanaian Officer corps is a Bachelor’s degree3 and senior high school (SHS)4 certificate with high grades for ORs.5 At the same time, the semi-literates and illiterates were gradually purged from the Ghana Armed Forces through retirements. In any case, what began as the Ghanaian military’s quest for skilled and educated personnel has mutated into a discourse of ‘we need to get educated’,6 which has become a vital instrument of continual subjection of the disciplined soldier subject. In short, the disciplined soldier subject is being re-subjected, in the Foucauldian sense, through ‘discursive productivity’ (Butler 1997: 2), which entails the repetitive production of the discourse of ‘we need to get educated’. This discourse is not just a phrase. It is common knowledge in the barracks that the policy of encouraging education was a conscious orchestration launched with the aim of not only professionalizing the military but also sharpening the norms under which the disciplined soldier subject was going to serve in the Ghanaian military. The framing of the discourse, in my view, is telling, as it is posited as a need that tallies with already existent desires and aspirations in the soldiers in the barracks. Foucault (1980: 59) notes that power is strongest at the ‘level of desire and . . . knowledge’. In other words, soldiers are being re-subjected through a discourse that touches on an already existing desire, namely their own ambition to improve themselves through education.7 Military operatives buying into this discourse and acting accordingly fits into the military’s scheme of continuous re-subjection to create the disciplined soldier subject. Subjection can be considered a conditioning of the Ghanaian soldier’s behaviour and attitude (Foucault 1977: 204; Butler 1997: 15) that is achieved through the discourse of ‘we need to get educated’. Better educated soldiers are not only capable of operating arms safely; education also means that the leadership can appeal to their soldierly values and deeply embedded ambitions and desires as a means to continuously subject the disciplined soldier subject. That also means that the military can shape the behaviour of the disciplined soldier subject by appealing to the fact that he is educated, therefore it can be expected from him to behave as an educated military operative who makes informed decisions. I observe that almost all current leaders of the Ghanaian military have earned at least a Master’s degree.8 Very few soldiers in the OR corps with a higher educational certificate gain access to the GMA, where they can earn a commission.9 But even when the OR is unable to gain access into the officer corps, his tertiary education certificate is judged higher than the qualification already recorded on his employment file, so he can still request and usually gain promotion to the next rank, thus making him

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superior to his peers and giving him a new place and position in the hierarchical organization and a higher salary.10 My interlocutors note that education has been key in the transformation process of the Ghana Armed Forces. This is illustrated in the following excerpt: The individual level of education of soldiers has risen dramatically. The mentality of soldiers has changed. Gone are the days that people were picked up to come and ‘chop’ soldier. Education is the key in every society, so we recruit educated people. To be able to get something done nowadays in Ghana Armed Forces, you have to be educated. Our soldiers have gone from illiterate to semi-literate to literate. This is how education transformed the Ghanaian military.11

Now that the education level of Ghanaian soldiers, both individually and collectively, has risen, there is no place for the uneducated in the barracks. A positive effect of the education discourse is that the military constantly draws attention to how an educated soldier should behave – i.e. be disciplined and adhere to codes of conduct. An educated soldier also adheres to the soldierly values of respect for authority, rank and hierarchy. Compared to the past, the soldier’s focus is now on developing himself through education, and the armed forces have to accommodate a studying soldier, though a soldier must have served in the military for at least five years before being eligible for study leave. An informant notes that education diverts soldiers’ attention from dangerous actions because ‘while soldiers pursue their educational dreams, they are pre-occupied with developing themselves, so there is no time and space in their minds for subversive activities, such as organizing coups’.12 Contrary to the Buga-Buga soldier, Sergeants from a focus group discussion elaborated on how, in the new constellation, if soldiers are ordered, for instance, to shoot a person, there are a number of questions they will ask to assess the legality of the order: ‘Is this man dangerous? Is he armed? Is he going to shoot me? And most importantly, is it a lawful order?’ One of the soldiers explained that: ‘When the commander confirms that the man is indeed dangerous, and I still have doubts about the validity of the order, I will demand a witness for back-up before executing the order.’ Contrary to the Buga-Buga soldier, the disciplined soldier subject, through education, is aware and reflective of the law. The disciplined soldier subject has an understanding of the legal ramifications of his actions as a soldier. Education is not only an instrument for continuous subjection of the disciplined soldier subject, it is also a way to divert the soldier’s attention from subversive activities and deepen his understanding of his tasks and profession.

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Butler (1997: 28) notes that ‘the subject is compelled to repeat the norms by which it [the subject] is produced’. In the barracks, I observed that there are soldiers who have embraced this discourse religiously and constantly broadcast the message to colleagues, peers and subordinates. One of my informants is a keen student, and all his unit members are aware of his academic prowess and credentials because he utilizes his downtime to undertake computer programming. Apart from this, he attends classes in computer science almost every evening of the week, at a tertiary institution. This informant (like many of his peers), because he has bought into this discourse, in his interactions with his (especially junior) colleagues tries to convince them of the importance and advantages of continuous education, which speaks to the notion of reproducing the norms of subjection by the subject. Recognition of the subject as a social being is paramount to the subject’s existence (Butler 1997: 27). One way in which soldiers are recognized in the barracks as social beings is, for example, through their participation in sports; another way, apart from adhering to the norms of the disciplined soldier subject, is through embracing the discourse of continuous education, as this has become a way of life that calls for the participation of the disciplined soldier subject. Most of my interlocutors who can afford it are educating themselves. They tell me that, as social beings, soldiers do not want to be left behind by their colleagues and peers. This has led to an ‘education rat race’ in which officers and ORs are becoming classmates outside the barracks and competing for the best grades and to be the best in their class. Officers, in particular, dislike being outshined by their subordinates, as this will become a topic in the barracks, thus leading to fierce competition in the classrooms. While there is an ORs versus officers competition going on, my informants note that senior and junior officers usually collaborate with each other to achieve better grades, in courses such as law or business administration.13 Apart from enrolment at tertiary education institutions outside the barracks, there are career advancement courses14 military operatives must attend to earn promotions to the next rank. These courses, in my view, function even more as instruments of re-subjection than the courses offered outside the barracks, as the military selects eligible candidates, controls the content of the courses and in some cases, such as studies at the GAFCSC, controls his living conditions during these courses. Additionally, these courses are long-term instruments of subjection because they are linked to the career stages in the military system, and hence the military hierarchy. For example, currently a Major must attend the Junior Staff College and later on Senior Staff College. This entails three months and one year, respectively, of intensive study and staying at the GAFCSC.

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Finally, according to an informant, one of the reasons why the discourse of ‘we need to get educated’ has been so widely embraced in the Ghanaian barracks is because the leadership of the Ghanaian military link education to ‘life after the service’.15 This points to the temporal nature of military service, as for ORs it is currently a maximum of twenty-five years. Officers, on the other hand, can serve for as long as their services are required, and the age limit, which is the maximum age one has to be when serving a particular rank, varies; for example, it is fifty years for Major and fifty-four for Lieutenant Colonel. According to military leaders, soldiers need to be oriented towards the future. An informant gave the following example to illustrate why it is important for military operatives to work towards life outside the barracks. ‘For example, if someone joins the military at the age of eighteen, he would be pensioned at forty-three years old. The future orientation makes education of that soldier vital because he will need to work or do something with the time he has left on this earth.’16 Moreover, to the disciplined soldier subject because ‘[s]chooling delivers “human capital”: technical skills that allow for increased economic activity in “modern” economies’ (Jeffery 2005: 19), it is an investment he is willing to make. My interlocutors are clear about this: Soldiers are more and more aware that being in the service is a temporal thing. We know that at some point we have to go home [retire]. Some are then still young and vital. They don’t want to go home and wait for death. They can and want to make a contribution to society, but because he has served his twenty-five years, soldier [the military] says he should go home. When he goes home, he will want to do something. That is when you can use your higher education degree to find new employment. It makes you better marketable when you invest in your education.17

Preparation for retirement from military service does not necessarily entail Ghanaian soldiers taking their soldiering less seriously. My interlocutors note that this is merely a response to the meagre pensions in their country. Ghanaian soldiers have bought into the notion of continuous education not only because it is future-oriented but also because ‘the idea was “domesticated” in advance’ (Butler 1997: 17). However, the military leadership’s motive is for the continuous subjection of the disciplined soldier subject. It must be noted that the Ghanaian military, unlike the career advancement courses it organizes, does not have control over the curricula outside the barracks, because these are civilian tertiary institutions. Nonetheless, this development is an expression of the military’s desire for continual subjection of the disciplined soldier subject, who utilizes his brains rather than only his physique like in the days of the Buga-Buga

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soldier. Education, therefore, gives military commanders ‘power of mind over mind’ (Foucault 1977: 206) of the military personnel and the military institution as a whole. This set of skills that depends more on personnels’ ability to think rather than only on physical strength has contributed not only to creating the disciplined soldier subject but also the transformation process in the barracks, as this new type of soldier not only adheres to the norms and conditions the military aspires to but also, where necessary, reflects upon his actions.

Implications of Education on Barracks Conventions My older interlocutors argue that the introduction of the discourse of ‘we need to get educated’ has had implications for discipline in the Ghanaian military. The encouragement of soldiers to pursue educational goals and the recruitment of (reasonably) well-educated military operatives are affecting the relational dynamics in the barracks. The following excerpt is an illustration of these changing relationships: The relationship between ratings and officers, ratings and Base Coxswain, junior ratings and senior ratings has improved. The gap between these groups is smaller. The educational level of soldiers has made this possible.18

In other words, as a result of the improved education level of soldiers, the level of interaction and communication between the leadership, officers, ORs, superiors and subordinates is much better. Better education has also created a window (however tiny) in which the disciplined soldier subjects negotiate their relationships with each other but also their relationship to the military institution. To better appreciate the current dynamics in the barracks, one must examine how the conditions were before the introduction of the discourse of education. In the era of the Buga-Buga soldier, ‘officers did not respect their men, while the Buga-Buga soldier feared officers’.19 The low level of education of the Buga-Buga soldier meant that there was no dialogue, while ignorance led to rampant corporeal violence. Discipline was instilled through fear and intimidation rather than through conviction and an appeal to soldierly values.’20 Currently, Ghanaian soldiers have the ability to read instructions, write notes and reports and grasp the meaning of complex information. This, in principle, has made the use of corporeal punishment to discipline soldiers obsolete.21 Moreover, ‘soldiers now know the regulations governing their actions and behaviour in the military’.22 Additionally, the disciplined soldier subjects have ‘a better sense of tolerable and intolerable behaviour in the Ghana Armed Forces’.23 In line

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with the Ghana Armed Forces’ human face philosophy, ideas of empathy and support for personal development have gained a foothold in the barracks. My informants note that in the past it would have been virtually unthinkable for a soldier who had not served for at least the mandatory eight years to request study leave. However, in the current constellation, soldiers can apply for this leave after five years. When a soldier has exams, I am told, he can request to be temporarily excused from duties while he prepares. The transformation process has injected flexibility into the military system that permits and accommodates such requests. However, education also has a shadow side, as it can negatively affect how the military is run. Firstly, older interlocutors blame partly better educated personnel for the disappearance of ‘obey before complain’, ‘because soldiers now, unlike in the past, ask “too many questions”’.24 In other words, in their view, ideally, a soldier should just execute an order without asking for clarification and the like. Before the breakdown of everydayness and military order as well as the initiation of the human face philosophy and the introduction of the discourse of continuous education, officers issued orders without taking the experience, area of expertise or the opinions of their soldiers into consideration. In the current constellation, military operatives identify themselves as educated, and being recognized as such gives them the right to be heard. According to an OR informant, ‘soldiers are no longer timid like in the olden days. They want a dialogue with their officers and sometimes they make suggestions as to how to handle an issue.’25 When and where possible, soldiers utilize their experience and expertise. This new attitude has forced superiors to adjust their attitude towards their subordinates.26 Although slim, there is room for dialogue and negotiation due to the recruitment of better educated soldiers and officers. Officers and men acknowledge each other in this respect, making a lot more things possible. The disciplined soldier subject, due to his educational level, does not merely follow orders blindly but incorporates his own insights and knowledge where applicable. In addition, he possesses the social and communication skills that his predecessors in the barracks lacked, enabling him to interact on an almost equal level with his superiors. The following is an example of how a dialogue might unfold in the barracks: When you are given an order, sometimes you have ideas or insights about it based on your professional or educational background. I am a logistician, so if I am ordered to move goods or men, I know how best to do it. So if the commander orders me to execute the task in a manner I believe is inefficient, I can engage in a dialogue with him about it. But I cannot just say ‘Sir, I don’t agree with your order.’ I will have to wait a couple of seconds, perhaps a minute after the order,

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then ask him, ‘Sir, may I make a suggestion?’ Then wait for his response to proceed. If he says ‘yes, go ahead’, then you know he has given you space for a dialogue. Then you can engage and exchange ideas about how best to go about the assignment. If he does not respond you just shut up, but at least you have tried to get a dialogue.27

Another informant adds the following perspective: I am a Recce [Armoured Reconnaissance Regiment] officer, so I think I know a thing or two about armoured vehicles, formations and the like. If a superior gives me an order and I think it is dangerous or incorrect, I can say: ‘Sir, I believe we should go about the issue in a different manner.’ I am opposing based on my informed knowledge. If he insists on me executing the order as issued by him and I really think what the superior wants me to do is really dangerous, I will ask for the orders in writing, so that in case something goes wrong, he will not be able to push the blame on me.28

Education is influencing the professional and social dynamics within the barracks. Better educated soldiers utilize their social and professional skills and expertise in their dialogue and to negotiate with their superiors. Although the quotes feature officers, this is also applicable to ORs. For example, a Corporal who works on a daily basis with rifles knows more about the weapons than the superior who occasionally engages with them. Based on the Corporal’s professional expertise and his communications skills, he can engage in a dialogue about the weapons with his superior. These exchanges entail new forms of interaction; commanders and subordinates have to engage with each other, therefore eliminating the fear, mistrust and poor communication that was prevalent before the breakdown of everydayness and military order in the barracks. Occasionally, these new forms of interaction lead to friction; however, the relationship between officers and ORs, my informants note, is improving as a result of increased dialogue.

Education and Soldiers’ Perceptions of Their Societal Role This section deals with the effects of the introduction of the discourse of continual education in the barracks on the interaction between military operatives and the host society. My interlocutors note that the mentality of soldiers has changed due to soldiers’ improved education level. Moreover, due to their better understanding of societal developments, such as development, international relations, poverty and environmental degradation, the disciplined soldier subject is now capable of analysing situa-

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tions and events.29 Additionally, contrary to the past when the Ghanaian media landscape was limited to a few media houses, soldiers now can select from a plethora of richly diversified national and international media. Soldiers are not only able to process vast amounts of information but draw conclusions about their position in their country and the world. From my interactions with soldiers, it is apparent that they made links to what their societal role was as military operatives and the function and place of their institution both in the country and on a larger international scale. Due to education, training and socialization, it is my contention that the disciplined soldier subject has a better understanding of his societal role and responsibility. Education institutions, such as the University of Ghana and Ghana Institute of Management and Public Administration (GIMPA) collaborate with the GAFCSC to educate soldiers, mainly through obligatory career advancement courses. Further, KAIPTC provides training and research in the areas of conflict prevention, management and peace-building for soldiers about to embark, for instance, on peacekeeping missions or attend career courses.30 In the not so distant past, ‘since official salaries were manifestly inadequate, soldiers and police were tempted to use their uniforms for private gains’ (Nugent 1995: 86). In this process, the representatives of the security apparatus tormented the civilian population (ibid.; Hutchful 1997a, 1997b; Oquaye 1980, 2004). However, today, the situation in the Ghanaian military has improved drastically, and not only because soldiers are better paid. The military leadership draws the soldier’s attention to the following: ‘We educate our soldiers that the taxpayer pays for his uniform, weapon and remuneration, so he has to refrain from abuse of that same taxpayer that employs and feeds him.’31 In other words, there is an implicit financial exchange.32 In this contract, the soldier is paid to use his uniform and weapon for their intended purpose (i.e. to defend his country) and not for intimidation and abuse of the general public. Moreover, weapons are intended for fighting on behalf of the country and not for intimidating or overthrowing the government.33 In the Ghanaian context, the implicit financial arrangement between the taxpayer and the military operative translates into the expectation that soldiers will stay in the barracks and train for the defence of their country. My interlocutors reiterate that the disciplined soldier subject understands his tasks and duties better due to his high educational level. Militaries known in the past for their frequent incursions into the body politic, like the Turkish, the Thai and the Pakistani armies, have either a self-defined or constitutionally defined role in their host societies. The Turkish military, for instance, considers itself ‘the defender of the Turkish Fatherland and the Turkish Republic’ (Harris 1965: 57); the Thai military

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defines its role as ‘the guardians of the monarchy and of a very patriarchal concept of democracy and ultimately a political actor’ (Pongsudhirak 2008; Heiduk 2011); and the Pakistani military is the ‘arbiter’ in the political arena of the country (Cohen 1983; Rizvi 1991; Daechsel 1997; Chengappa 1999). Similarly, the Ghanaian military has a constitutionally defined role in Ghanaian society as the ‘defender of the sovereignty and territorial integrity of the nation by land, air or sea’.34 The constitutionally defined task of the Ghanaian military is not new. However, the continuous emphasis on this role by the military leadership as part of the transformation process has produced a qualitative shift in the perceptions of soldiers. In the past, the Buga-Buga soldier did not have much knowledge of the constitution on which he swore his oath. Currently, the emphasis is ‘aimed at focusing the soldier’s attention to why he is in uniform’.35 A high-ranking military officer explained the logic behind this. ‘Unlike in the past, the soldier today has the capability to comprehend complex societal developments in the modern world.’36 During many deliberations with soldiers of all ranks, I was struck by how soldiers are deeply engaged and analytically interested in world events, such as the coup in Thailand and the Ebola epidemic in West Africa. To sum up, contrary to his predecessor, the disciplined soldier subject in the Ghana Armed Forces has the ability to grasp complex information and translate this into the performance the military leadership expects of him. The military high command, on the other hand, at durbars regularly refers to the constitutional mission of the Ghanaian military, therefore channelling the soldier’s focus to the goal. This is thus a far cry from the past, when soldiers had very little education and the military leadership had to spell out every little detail in order to ensure that the men understood what was expected of them. The key takeaway is that soldiers understand in the current situation, as told to them by their leaders, that there is a contract between them and the taxpayer that implicitly dictates that military operatives show appreciation for the uniform, weapons and their salary, paid for by the taxpayer, and therefore at all costs must refrain from abusing the taxpayer. By repeatedly emphasizing this point to soldiers, the Ghanaian military aims to influence the behaviour and attitude of its personnel.

Education as a Platform for the Exchange of Ideas and Norms between Soldiers and Civilians Education has the ability to weave values together (Jeffery 2005: 13). As part of his current and future orientation, the disciplined soldier subject’s

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quest for knowledge has led him outside the barracks. Here, soldiers and civilians are classmates at tertiary institutions across Ghana, where there are interactions and engagements of all sorts. In these exchanges, education forms the catalyst for sharing ideas, norms and values between various societal groups; in this case between soldiers and civilians. The interactions and exchanges have allowed a cross-fertilization of ideas, norms and values to take place between soldiers and civilians on campuses across Ghana. This process has an influence on the soldiers’ perception. The following except is an illustration of this: Since more soldiers are being educated, I have now more civilian friends through schooling. We have come to know civilians. We understand that they are the people we are supposed to protect.37

Through education, the civilian whom the soldier is hired to protect is not an abstract other. He or she is human, just like the military operative. This shared humanity has an impact on my interlocutors, as this has fostered an understanding between soldiers and civilians, making education a forum for developing and sharing ideas, values and norms (ibid.: 19). In the field, I observed that unlike in the past when soldiers stayed in their barracks and were hardly exposed to life outside them, the barracks are now less sealed off, mainly as a result of education but also because of developments in technology. The political and military leaders of Ghana recognize education as a catalyst for fostering collaboration between military operatives and their civilian counterparts. The following statement from the 2009 Ghana Defence Policy expresses the aim of bringing civilians and military together: MOD [Ministry of Defence] shall continue to pursue the policy of joint leadership training for senior military officers and civilian executives at KAIPTC [Kofi Annan International Peacekeeping Training Centre] and GAFCSC [Ghana Armed Forces Command and Staff College]. Additionally, interaction between the military and civilians at various workshops and seminars shall also be strengthened.

In short, the Ghanaian government and the military acknowledge education as fostering good relations between civilians and soldiers. The administration is willing to invest in forums where a cross-fertilization of ideas can take place between civilian and military groups. According to my informants, the general relationship between soldiers and civilians has over the years improved as a result of better educated personnel; better education has also made soldiers more tolerant of civilians.38 As shown in the preceding paragraphs, education has contributed to the transformation of the Ghanaian military and to improving soldiers’

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understanding of their task in this West African country. Especially the KAIPTC, although a military establishment, has been instrumental in the development of soldiers’ awareness of human rights, interactions between soldiers and civilians and soldiers’ role in society. In sum, the awareness of soldiers’ role in society is accompanied by new values that are transmitted to the disciplined soldier subject through education. The transformation of the Ghanaian military has not only entailed new values, such as responsibility for defending one’s country, but also new ways of engaging with civilian compatriots. In other words, what started as a call of the Ghanaian military to attract well-educated personnel to operate modern, complex weaponry has become an important instrument in the transformation process in the barracks. Through education, civilians and soldiers are crossing paths in places like campuses and classrooms, thus fostering a process of cross-fertilization and understanding to take place between them.

‘Boundary Crossers’ in Education Boundary crossers are ‘people who move freely between two or more domains and who understand the values, cultures and language, and have the trust, of both’ (Kilpatrick, Johns and Whelan 2008: 1). Many Ghanaian soldiers have been ‘boundary crossers’, as the Ghana Armed Forces have always had links with the international military arena. Back in 1897, the Gold Coast Regiment was absorbed into the Royal West African Frontier Force (Baynham 1994: 2; cf. Aboagye 1999; Addae 2005; Akurang-Parry 2006). Additionally, both in the colonial period and thereafter, Ghanaian soldiers have been in contact with foreign counterparts through participation in campaigns during the First and Second World Wars (Baynham 1994: 4), with soldiers from the Gold Coast Regiment engaging in battles in places like India and Burma as part of the 81st and 82nd Divisions (ibid.: 6). Before and immediately after independence in the late 1950s and early 1960s, the first generation of Ghanaian officer cadets were sent abroad for their officer training. Price (1971: 402) notes that the most promising men (officer material) in post-colonial armies were periodically selected to attend courses abroad. In the 1960s and 1970s, Ghanaian officers also went to the United States, Canada and Pakistan for various career advancement military courses (ibid.). The majority of Ghanaians who trained abroad went to the Royal Military Academy Sandhurst (Gutteridge 1970; Price 1971). Officer cadets drafted for short military service were dispatched to the sixteen-week Officer Cadet Training Unit (OCTU) at Eaton Hall in Chester

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(Baynham 1994: 13). Some of my informants were sent to India and the Soviet Union for their military training. Currently, every academic year, Royal Military Academy Sandhurst offers the best Ghanaian officer cadet a scholarship to study and commission in the United Kingdom (Figure 5.1). More than 160 cadets from the Ghanaian military have thus far commissioned since the late 1950s from this academy. In short, Ghanaian soldiers engaging, interacting and exchanging with foreign counterparts is not a recent phenomenon. ‘Boundary crossers’ (Gupta and Ferguson 1997; Kilpatrick, Johns and Whelan 2008) in the Ghanaian military absorb and digest ideas and perceptions in contexts different from their own and then bring them back to their environment. In the following paragraphs, I show how these ideas and perceptions are locally ‘translated’ (Behrends, Park and Rottenburg 2014) and injected into the existing military system. Education is generally viewed as an ideal vehicle for sharing and transferring knowledge (Jeffery 2005: 13). The Ghanaian officer’s exposure in the international arena speaks to what Goldman labels ‘military diffusion’. Military diffusion is a process of ‘transmission of new information . . . to adopt new technologies, ideas and practices; and ultimately the assimilation of those ideas into institutions and practices’ (Goldman 2006:

Figure 5.1. Sovereign’s Parade, Royal Military Academy Sandhurst, August 2013. Photo by the author.

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69; see also Horowitz 2010). Generally, Ghanaian officers mostly through their attendance of educational courses abroad are exposed to new information about things such as new types of weaponry (First 1970: 6), new tactics or battle formations. According to Deakin (2008), former senior lecturer at the Royal Military Academy Sandhurst, the institution has both military and civilian academic staff that not only teach military skills but also military history, defence policy, international affairs, leadership and management. Moreover, the training is divided into military and academic training (ibid.), therefore widening the repertoire of the officer cadet. My interlocutors who commissioned at the Royal Military Academy Sandhurst say they were exposed to a variety of ideas, perceptions and knowledge with regard to topics such as troop motivation and management, and teamwork. The following excerpt illustrates my interlocutors’ exposure in the United Kingdom: I am blessed with my training at both GMA [Ghana Military Academy] and [Royal Military Academy] Sandhurst. In England, they have a lot of resources, so we had a lot of exposure. Sandhurst really gave me a solid foundation, which I have benefitted from throughout my career. The basics of leadership. I know how to lead my men. Moreover, as an officer you have to be flexible and look for various solutions to problems. I have a more holistic approach to leadership, which means that I study my men and use them according to their strength. This approach is thanks to my training at Sandhurst.39

Another informant shared insights gained abroad that can be applied in the local setting. At Sandhurst, I learned about team work. It is more effective. We had collective exams. That was a new experience for me. We had field exercises in which we were ranked as platoons. We had to share knowledge and work together as a team. But also, when we were running, we had to cross the line together as a team; that means we had to motivate the weakest so that we could cross as a team.40

In other words, ideas, perceptions and knowledge from abroad can be learned and translated in another context; in this case, it is diffused into the Ghanaian military barracks (Goldman 2006). For example, my interlocutor noted that a platoon commander who has been on an international course to study war formations can directly apply the knowledge gained from it in his planning and execution of training exercises for his men, thereby disseminating ideas to his subordinates. These new ideas and perceptions learned by the Ghanaian officer may include how other militaries are governed or combat formations. Upon

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returning to his native environment, he translates and applies the new knowledge in the local arena. I observed in the officers’ coffee room at various units returnees from courses abroad (and those who had been abroad before) engaging their colleagues with their new-found knowledge – debates and insights on, for example, counterterrorism and security governance, which according to my interlocutors is taught at various international military institutions that Ghanaian soldiers are visiting. In fact, the Ghanaian military seems to make an effort to encourage dissemination of knowledge by posting boundary crossers to experience particular positions, like that of instructor at the GMA, where knowledge can be passed on. At the GMA, I interacted with three Sandhurst-trained officers. The reproduction of this knowledge is ‘military emulation’ (Farrell and Terriff (2002: 9), which according to Resende-Santos (2007: 9) is ‘the deliberate imitation by one state of any aspect of another state’s military system that bears upon its own military system’. The deliberate copying means certain aspects of militaries resemble each other. In the Ghanaian barracks, courses are the vehicle for the Ghanaian officer to gain new knowledge from the global arena, and through military emulation41 the officer injects this new information into the Ghanaian military system. The following excerpt illustrates how foreign intercourse influences the Ghanaian military. Until recently, a Brigadier in Ghana was called a Brigadier. But now due to interactions with the US, we also call our Brigadier a Brigadier General like the Americans. The exchange programmes between the military schools like Sandhurst and the GMA affect our way of thinking and our way doing things here. We adjust to international norms and standards. We measure ourselves with those we rub shoulders with because we want to be on par with them.42

A very obvious example that the Ghana Armed Forces are adjusting to international norms is that they have adapted the length of cadet training to the British model, cutting the training education from eighteen43 months to fifteen months. Appadurai (2000: 5) reminds us that we currently live in a globalized world that is shaped and coloured by objects in motion. By objects, Appadurai means ideas, ideologies, people and goods, images and messages, technologies and techniques (ibid.). In that sense, the Ghanaian military and its members move in this globalized world, adapting these objects. Although the influence of countries such as the United States on the Ghanaian military is increasing through, for instance, the Africa Contingency Operations Training and Assistance (ACOTA),44 the Ghanaian officer is most influenced by the United Kingdom.45 Additionally, most of the mem-

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bers of the leadership of the Ghanaian military immediately after independence were British trained (see also Baynham 1994; Hettne 1980).46 Diffusion is the most common form of knowledge exchange in the Ghana Armed Forces. Goldman points out that military diffusion is likely to thrive when international norms resonate with domestic norms (2006: 69). My interlocutors note that due to the fact that soldiers already have a common background, such as being trained at the Royal Military Academy Sandhurst, and are citizens of the Commonwealth, ideas are easily adopted and thrive as a result. The colonial ties but also interactions between the Ghanaian military leadership and their British counterparts through training, education and other career advancement programmes, such as Ghanaian officers despatched to British units to understudy, has led to both Ghanaian and British officers embracing the same military ideas, values, norms and standards;47 the officers identify with the reference group (Price 1971). Due to this shared background, new ideas from, for example, Royal Military Academy Sandhurst require less effort to integrate into the Ghanaian military system. Moreover, according to an informant, ‘the Ghana Armed Forces is modelled after the British military’.48 The command structure of all the services are designed in the same manner. The only difference is that the Ghana Armed Forces are much smaller and less resourced than the British military.49

Bottlenecks in One’s Own System Learning from educational exposure can shed light on shortcomings in one’s own system. Military diffusion (Goldman 2006) and its accompanying translation into the local setting is not a clean-cut, straightforward process. For example, my interlocutors who have had foreign exposure have had their attention drawn to bottlenecks in their own military system. However, these military operatives are not in a position in the hierarchical sense to implement changes. The following two quotations are illustrative. The training in England is geared towards a realistic battle situation. When they talk of artillery, you see and experience artillery. In England, the doctrines have shifted from conventional warfare to counter-insurgency. We haven’t adjusted our doctrines to the new situation. If you suggest it to the big men, they will tell you: ‘This is Ghana’ [which implies that the conditions in Ghana do not allow complete adoption of everything that is going on in the international arena].50

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Additionally, an informant notes that although in Ghana Great Britain generally is associated with individualism, cadets are trained with a strong focus on collaboration and collectivism. Ghana, on the contrary, is supposed to be a ‘communitarian society’ (Amoah and Afranie 2015: 93), with the emphasis during the training seeming to contradict the British training methods: At the [Ghana] Military Academy we are taught that we have to work together as a team, build a team spirit. But in practice, we were competing with each other. That is because in Ghana the courses are examined based on tests, while in England we may have a group discussion or scenarios. In Ghana, we all work for ourselves and our individual goals.51

Despite the weaknesses that exposure to the international military arena might reveal in one’s own system, Ghanaian military operatives studying abroad – i.e. ‘boundary crossers’ – (Gupta and Ferguson 1997; Kilpatrick, Johns and Whelan 2008) are important in the transformation process of the Ghana Armed Forces. Not only do they gain knowledge and bring it to their institution, the boundary crossers contribute to changing views and perceptions of their colleagues and peers through their exchanges but also through their translation and injection of knowledge into the local context and setting. An informant explains what he does with the acquired knowledge. The advanced countries have resources; that makes training and learning easy. In foreign countries, there is commitment to training. Here [in Ghana] there is less commitment to training due to lack of resources. Because I have done all my courses abroad, I am here teaching, I am imparting the knowledge into the system.52

My informants, who have been fortunate to be selected for foreign courses, thus gaining foreign exposure, note that foreign countries have resources for training their troops that make learning easy. Although a lack of resources in their own country means limitations on how far they can infuse their own military system with their newly acquired knowledge, my interlocutors claim that they are committed to sharing their knowledge with their colleagues, peers, superiors and subordinates. The officer is sharing, translating and infusing his knowledge into the Ghanaian military system by teaching soldiers and having discussions with his colleagues. However, military diffusion, it must be noted, has a shadow side. The Royal Military Academy Sandhurst has its critics, prominently among them Ruth First (1970), who drew attention to the fact that many overseas

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alumni, such as Ghanaian Afrifa, Nigerians Nzeogwu, Katsina and Gowon (ibid.), all later became coup makers. Some critics have labelled Sandhurst ‘the academy that trains coup makers’.53 Countering the criticism, the military academy argues that it aims to ‘raise’ officers ‘but all officers are gentlemen, not all gentlemen are officers’.54 Therefore, it is impossible for the institution to filter out later coup makers.55 I observed during my fieldwork at the academy, but also according to an informant, that studying various forms of combat, insurgency and war is an inevitable aspect of the officer training,56 and staff have regularly spotted cadets with a keen interest in learning about coups. However, there is not much the instructors can do, as ‘studying these activities doesn’t mean the fellow is going to conduct a coup; maybe it is just out of educational interest’.57 In sum, education is an important instrument in the continuous subjection of the disciplined soldier subject. Not only locally at tertiary institutions in preparation for life after military service but also through career advancement courses in Ghana and abroad, Ghanaian military operatives are exposed to ideas, norms, discourses and values in the international military arena. Through military diffusion and military emulation, these ideas, norms, discourses and values are injected into the Ghanaian military barracks through formalized structures, such as training and field exercises, and informal settings (coffee break conversations). Additionally, these ideas may also be practical in nature; the soldier can therefore diffuse them through engagement with his peers, thus exposing them to new ways of doing things. To conclude, due to education, military diffusion (Goldman 2006) and military emulation (Farrell and Terriff 2002), a soldier’s attitude and mentality can continue to be transformed as part of the ongoing transformation of the Ghana Armed Forces. Through these channels, perceptions and ideas gradually find their way into the barracks and eventually become part and parcel of the barracks.

Peacekeeping as a Transformative Experience Peacekeeping is an important instrument in the ongoing transformation process in the Ghanaian barracks. In the course of this section of the chapter, I show why this is the case. The main question here is: how has peacekeeping contributed to the transformation of the Ghana Armed Forces? I observe that peacekeeping is an important aspect of soldiering in the Ghanaian military and an identity marker. Over the years, peacekeeping has become an important instrument in the continuous subjection of the disciplined soldier subject. Through deployment, soldiers are camped together, which allows the military to monitor and observe

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behaviour and ensure that codes of conduct are being adhered to. This organized surveillance of soldiers is undertaken by peers, superiors, subordinates and intelligence agents. In short, the military has total control over the soldier’s body and mind, therefore enabling the continual subjection of the disciplined soldier subject. African countries have historically played pivotal roles in United Nations peacekeeping missions58 (Malan 1999: 45). African countries not only exhibit political will but also contribute large numbers of soldiers to peacekeeping exercises around the globe (Aning et al. 2013: 1). In West Africa, Ghana is considered to have the most experienced peacekeeping armed forces (Olonisakin 1997: 362). Peacekeeping, for Ghana Armed Forces, is not only important in activities within the country, as the military establishment deploys eleven battalions to various conflict theatres every year.59 These missions have also become an important identity marker for Ghanaian soldiers,60 as they consider themselves ‘soldiers of peace’ (Cunliffe 2013) or ambassadors of peace. Almost every military operative I met in the field had been on at least one peacekeeping operation, unless they had just graduated from their training, then they were exempt from deployment, as the Ghanaian military considered them inexperienced for such missions. Despite peacekeeping being an important identity marker in the barracks, Ghanaian soldiers’ involvement in peacekeeping missions has always been a political decision by the country’s leaders, as well as a diplomatic tool. In Ghana’s 2009 defence policy, peacekeeping is considered a mechanism for ‘the promotion of international peace and security’.61 For instance, Dr Kwame Nkrumah (Ghana’s first president after independence) sent the first contingent of Ghanaian peacekeepers to Zaire (now Republic of Congo) in 1960 (Nwaubani 2001) as part of his Pan African agenda. Since then ‘the Ghanaian Armed Forces had become involved by the early 1990s, . . . in peacekeeping operations in Lebanon, Cambodia, Liberia, Croatia, Rwanda, Iraq/Kuwait, Somalia, and Western Sahara’ (Hutchful 1999: 62) in addition to Chad, Niger and Sierra Leone. Currently, Ghanaian soldiers are deployed in the following operations: United Nations Multidimensional Integrated Stabilization Mission in Mali (MINUSMA), United Nations Mission in the Republic of South Sudan (UNMISS), United Nations Interim Force in Lebanon (UNIFIL), United Nations Organization Stabilization Mission in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, and United Nations Operation in Cote d’Ivoire (UNOCI).62 According to my informants, perhaps the most important reason for deploying soldiers was to generate extra income from these missions for military operatives and the government. Olonisakin (1997) notes that these earnings became an important factor in stabilizing the relations between the military and the Rawlings regime at that time. Peacekeeping

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missions thus not only served as an instrument for providing ‘valuable training and experience in a variety of countries, as well as enabling the troops to supplement their meagre wages and acquire household goods not available to them in Ghana’ (Hutchful 1999). Olonisakin (1997: 362) also notes that Rawlings’ deployment of Ghanaian soldiers for peacekeeping missions at the beginning of the 1980s and 1990s was a purposeful move to keep the military occupied with other activities – i.e. to divert the military’s attention from politics. According to my interlocutors, in accordance with Hutchful (1999), the Ghanaian government receives substantial sums of money from the UN63 for every soldier sent on peacekeeping missions. This money was (and is) used by the Ghanaian government to supplement military spending at times of budget constraints. Aning (2007: 137) notes that ‘Ghana has made peacekeeping into a veritable resource generating phenomenon.’ In sum, peacekeeping, on the political level, has been utilized to keep the disciplined soldier subject in check through deployment,64 while diverting his attention from political engagement.

Effects of War and Conflict Peacekeeping missions have, according to my interlocutors, exposed Ghanaian soldiers to the atrocities that war generates. Ghanaian soldiers have been involved at the time of writing in thirty United Nations peacekeeping missions (Aning et al. 2013). Most of my interlocutors argue that peacekeeping in the Middle East, particularly in Lebanon, is unpredictable, due to frequent fracases between Israel and Palestine.65 However, the theatres of war on the African continent, such as Liberia, Sierra Leone, Congo and Rwanda, have made the most impact due to the carnage and atrocities the warring factions have exerted not only on each other but also on the civilian population.66 It is my conviction that the exposure of Ghanaian soldiers to the excesses of war and conflict influences their perception of their role in and their relationship to society – and hence, by extension, feeds into the transformation process of the Ghana Armed Forces, which, as discussed, is aimed at professionalizing the institution – i.e. creating the disciplined soldier subject and steering him away from coups. In the following quotations, my informants talk about what they have seen in these theatres of war and how it has shaped their perceptions. War is shit. I have seen most misery in Liberia and Sierra Leone. Most Ghanaian soldiers will not fight for some politician’s ambition, be-

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cause of what we have seen. Besides, bullets are not the only things that kill people. Hunger also kills a lot of people. War dehumanizes. When people are hungry, they lose their pride and are willing to do whatever it takes to get food. That is one of the reasons why I will not fight for anybody. Moreover, if we take up arms, we will be destroying our country; we have one country.67

The Ghanaian soldiers on these missions have interacted and engaged with Africans (and others) affected by war and have witnessed first-hand the excesses of these conflicts. My interlocutors observe that politicians and non-state actors vying for power have destroyed their countries, as was the case in Sierra Leone and Liberia. Additionally, my informants have witnessed starvation and death of civilian populations. This exposure has had an impact, my informants point out, on their views and thinking. The consequence is that they claim they will not engage in war and other conflict-generating activities because ‘war is not very pretty’.68 An officer shared the following experience and observations: Thanks to peacekeeping, we have come to realize that coups and wars lead to break up of nations. I was on peacekeeping in Sierra Leone; we went on patrol to a village called Neama. We made our way there based on the GPS coordinates. When we go there, we saw burnt down houses and cut down trees. Neama was on the Sierra Leonean map alright, but in reality it was no more. I was with eighty men. I called them and pointed out to them that these are the effects of war and conflict. I asked them: would you want this to happen in our country? The answer was a resounding NO!69

From my interlocutors’ view, the village of Neama could have been their villages back in Ghana. This, according to my interlocutors, was a strong warning signal. Whereas in the past Ghanaian soldiers allowed themselves to be lured into coups and mutinies, nowadays, (partly) due to their better educational level but also due to the witnessed atrocities, carnage and devastations of war elsewhere on peacekeeping missions, they claim they would be reluctant – if not totally unwilling – to allow their expertise to be exploited for such goals.70 My informants note that as soldiers they have the skills and weapons to defend themselves, but they have family members in villages and towns across Ghana who do not have these capabilities.71 Additionally, my interlocutors note that during war a lot of people die of diseases, due to contaminated water and unburied corpses.72 War, according to my informants, forces people to behave ‘abnormally’ because of their dire situation; hungry men will offer their wives to other men in exchange for food.73 My informants note that the harsh circumstances of war can force men (and women) to unwillingly partake in the conflict.74

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Hunger, in particular, is a powerful driving force in this regard. On a wall in Liberia, an informant read graffiti in which a participant worded his motivation for fighting in the war. He said it will stay with him forever: ‘I fought a senseless war for one bag of rice and a gallon of Gino cooking oil.’75 The experiences of conflict have left a lasting impression on my informants and contributed to shaping their views about war and conflict. Most importantly, Ghanaian military operatives engage with these experiences; they project them onto their own situation. This process of reflecting upon experiences from peacekeeping missions contributes to transforming the mindset in the Ghanaian barracks. My informants make clear that they do not want to be responsible for breaking up their country or bring suffering to their compatriots. Although my informants have been on multiple missions, the war in Liberia has made the most impact on them. An interlocutor recalls his youth in the early 1980s when his family members ‘went there to hustle’.76 ‘They left Ghana in search of greener pastures in Liberia. Now it is completely destroyed.’77 He notes that during ‘war, with a few artillery rounds, you can destroy towns, cities, villages or even a country’, but to rebuild what has been destroyed by war is a different story all together – ‘it takes a long time.’78 Liberia, a country that in the past was prosperous enough to attract many Ghanaians in search of better lives, is now in tatters, which for my interlocutor has resulted in a change of perception about conflict that will make him and his colleagues refrain from engaging in such activities within their own country. He will not be easily drawn into participating in conflict. Ghanaian soldiers have witnessed the misery and devastation war causes elsewhere and have vowed not to allow that to happen in their country. These experiences are fuelling a change in attitude towards wars and coups, thus contributing to the transformation of the Ghana Armed Forces. Moreover, my informants note that Ghanaian military operatives do not wish to use their skills to fight against each other in their country, as their experiences elsewhere dictate that this could be detrimental. Soldiers have shown me pictures they have taken of dead pregnant women, children, old men and women and other horrors on the streets of Monrovia, Liberia and elsewhere as silent reminders of war. At times when Ghanaian politicians hint at their willingness to start a war to defend their interests, my informants, although it is not allowed as the Ghanaian military forbids contact with the media, have considered sending these pictures to the media to show the general Ghanaian public the consequences of war and what they have witnessed in other countries. The experiences are shared with each other and with outsiders like me and are meant to serve as a warning.

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Unintended Benefits of Peacekeeping Missions Peacekeeping missions, apart from exposing Ghanaian soldiers to the excesses of conflict and war, have generated unintended benefits that have also contributed to the ongoing transformation process of the Ghana Armed Forces. During peacekeeping missions, Ghanaian soldiers participate in activities such as fighting rebel forces, ceasefire monitoring and humanitarian aid (Aning 2007: 134). In most of these activities, my informants tell me, Ghanaian soldiers collaborate with soldiers from other countries. The collaborations expose them to new weapon systems that the Ghanaian military does not possess in its stock, as well as new methods of fighting, new tactics and knowledge about how other militaries run their operations. But most importantly, Ghanaian soldiers observe how officers and ORs from other forces interact. The Indians, Pakistanis and Bangladeshi officers are not nice at all. They maltreat their soldiers because these people have the caste system. Their soldiers come from lower casts. They treat them like slaves and servants. There are rumours that some even beat their soldiers when they commit an offence.79

My OR interlocutors, conclude that, compared to their Indian, Pakistani and Bangladeshi counterparts, their relations with their superiors are ‘quite good’.80 Additionally, they observe that apart from a few unfriendly Ghanaian officers there is a solid foundation for building and expanding on trustful relations with them.81 In any case, for the disciplined soldier subject, a good point of departure for trustful relations was set after the ‘critical events’ (Das 1995) in the early 1980s. According to an informant and veteran of five peacekeeping missions, peacekeeping has been instrumental in making it possible for soldiers to observe how officers from other countries solve problems and interact with their colleagues and subordinates.82 Both officers and men learn from peacekeeping missions, and this knowledge contributes to the transformation process, as soldiers learn new perspectives, new ways of doing things and new ways of reasoning. The knowledge is digested, translated and injected into the everyday practices of the Ghana Armed Forces.

Personal Benefits of Peacekeeping to the Individual Soldier This section features the benefits of peacekeeping for the individual soldier. Peacekeeping has particular advantages for the Ghana Armed Forces and the country (Aning 2007: 135). Peacekeeping operations en-

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able military stocks to be replenished by the government without too much controversy because these military expenditures can be legitimized as acquisitions for peacekeeping operations (ibid.). Additionally, the US-run ACOTA programme has provided millions of dollars’ worth of training and equipment to the Ghanaian military (ibid.: 138). In the words of a senior officer: Peacekeeping is good for the Ghana Armed Forces. When we go out there we have something called ‘Infield Training’. The United Nations trains us in the theatre. It enhances our professionalism, as we get new knowledge which when we come back can be put to use. Peacekeeping missions build our capacity.83

Military emulation (Farrell and Terriff 2002; Resende-Santos 2007) and military diffusion (Goldman 2006; Horowitz 2010) take place through the training provided by the international community but also through peacekeeping as is shown in the above quote. Without the deployment of Ghanaian troops for peacekeeping missions, my informants note that the Ghanaian military would find it difficult to keep up its stock and level of training. Without peacekeeping missions, the Ghanaian military and government would have difficulties legitimizing and explaining military expenditure to the Ghanaian general public (Aning 2007) and the Ghana Armed Forces would not gain valuable training provided by the US and UN,84 and thereby not build their capacity and fall short of international standards. According to an informant, these programmes and interactions generate ideas on issues like the role of the military in society and human rights. Engagement with these ideas contributes to shaping perceptions and thus to transforming the Ghana Armed Forces, as a disciplined soldier subject through peacekeeping missions is exposed to how he is supposed to behave. This constant reminder of the norms and values that the soldier is expected to exhibit and embody contributes to his continual subjection. My interlocutors note that an advantage of deploying soldiers on peacekeeping missions is the diversion of their attention from causing trouble or meddling in national politics (Hutchful 1997b: 258; Olonisakin 1997; Aning 2007: 138). Although the disciplined soldier subject has a different training and education background compared to the Old Soldier and the Buga-Buga soldier, the political elite’s trust in the new type of soldier is not grounded and consolidated enough. The political elite remains wary of the Ghanaian military institution, no matter how educated, disciplined and transformed its personnel is. That is why military operatives still need to be distracted from politics. My military informants subscribe to this observation and concur that the chosen strategy seems to be effective:

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Soldiers are all over the place. People are on [peacekeeping] operations. People don’t have time to think of these things. Besides, there are not many people with such ideas and there are not enough people on the ground [in the barracks] to execute such plans.85

In other words, the disciplined soldier subject might not harbour the ambition to orchestrate and execute a coup in Ghana, but even if he had such plans, the resources and manpower are not readily available in the barracks for such ventures. These are factors contributing to the transformation process as explained above. Some have also argued that the last successful coup dates back to 31 December 1981, and the longer the Ghana Armed Forces stay away from coups, the more difficult it becomes for them to engage in them, hence the continual diversion of soldiers’ attention from such activities. Does the Ghanaian soldier benefit from peacekeeping missions as well? The answer is a definite yes. Firstly, the soldier’s income is supplemented with the daily allowance received while on peacekeeping missions.86 Secondly, the soldier’s salary while he is on these missions is virtually untouched, therefore becoming savings for him87 (see also Hutchful 1999; 1997b: 258). Aning (2007: 140) notes that upon completion of a mission, Ghanaian soldiers use their so-called ‘coins’88 in the following ways: ‘to purchase plots of land, build houses, purchase household appliances, send their children to better educational institutions, and improve their general living standard’. Soldiers can now afford to send their children to universities just like officers can,89 leading to family rivalries and feuds when one soldier’s child is admitted into the officer corps while the other soldier’s offspring is rejected. How have the peacekeeping payments contributed to transforming the Ghanaian military? According to an informant, in the same way earning tertiary education certificates enable soldiers to plan for a future outside the barracks, so do peacekeeping missions, in that they provide military operatives with the money to plan and execute their private plans and achieve things that in the past were unimaginable and impossible for them. Peacekeeping has enabled future planning whilst steering the disciplined soldier subject away from undertaking undermining activities, such as coups. This is clear from the following quote: We are busy fighting for good futures for our children. I don’t want the plans to be disrupted by a coup or conflict.90

In other words, soldiers are working on long-term planning for themselves and their offspring. Soldiers having the possibility and ability to execute their future plans, firstly, according to my interlocutors, keeps

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them calm because they have a future to look forward to. These factors discourage soldiers from engaging in national politics. Moreover, longterm plans call for a stable sociopolitical environment to bear fruit, contributing further to the soldier focusing and working on his plans rather than engaging in activities that could jeopardize this. Further, there are Ghanaian soldiers who due to circumstances in their youth, such as lack of resources, were unable to enjoy tertiary education.91 However, due to peacekeeping earnings, they now can afford to put themselves through university education and earn degrees. I want continuity in my life. I want to finish my schooling. I don’t want anybody to disturb my plans with any dubious intentions.92

The soldier refers to his desire for stability, which translates into continuity, which in turn will enable him to succeed in executing his plans. The predictability of the everyday and stability is what my informants explain is necessary for their plans to materialize. Due to peacekeeping, many of my interlocutors tell me they appreciate the predictability of stability. There are informants who have been on several missions and saved money in order to be able to study. Due to their savings, they are able to request to be exempted from nomination for peacekeeping for a period to enable them to complete their study or whatever project they are busy with that demands their attention and presence in Ghana. The peacekeeping earnings have not only increased and opened up opportunities for the Ghanaian soldiers, they have transformed them. They have plans and dreams that demand a lot of their attention,93 thus steering them away from activities such as coups. The missions have changed soldiers’ focus, as they are busy implementing their plans or developing their personal projects. This shift is contributing positively to the transformation of the Ghana Armed Forces, as its members are focused on educating themselves, their children or building their houses for retirement. For soldiers, the personal benefits of peacekeeping are a disincentive to engage in coups and conflict.

Conclusion In this chapter, I have presented the continuous subjection of the disciplined soldier subject through education. This helps them to become boundary crossers and thus be in a position to introduce new ideas to the Ghanaian military system through military diffusion and military emulation, thus transforming the Ghana Armed Forces. Another important factor that contributes to the transformation of the Ghanaian military is Gha-

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na’s participation in international peacekeeping missions. Peacekeeping contributes to the continual subjection of the disciplined soldier subject because through pre-deployment training provided by the international community, soldiers are indoctrinated in international soldiering norms that tally with the Ghanaian military’s expectations, such as soldiers’ adherence to, among other things, disciplinary codes of conduct and professionalism and accepting control over the armed forces. The disciplined soldier subject wants to be acknowledged as a professional by his international military peers, which makes him conform not only to the expectations of the Ghanaian military institution but also international norms.

NOTES 1. Quoted from a report of the Board of Officers Career Progression Plan for Other Ranks in the Army; published by GAFCSC, Otu Barracks, Teshie, April 1988. 2. According to an informant, this does mean that soldiers can request permission to pursue study only after serving a minimum number of years. For other ranks, it is a minimum of five years (that used to be eight years). For the officers, it is said to be a minimum of three years. 3. Ghana Armed Forces website http://gafrecruitment.com.gh/ (accessed 21 July 2015). 4. Ibid. 5. Ibid. 6. My interlocutors who had enrolled at various tertiary education institutions repeated this phrase to me regularly. 7. In Ghana, education is still a strong marker of upward social mobility. 8. Profiles of commanders of the Ghana Armed Forces on the official website of the Ghana Armed Forces: see http://www.gaf.mil.gh/ (accessed 23 July 2015). 9. Informal conversation with Lance Corporal A., Whistler Barracks, Teshie, Accra, Ghana (17 October 2014); and informal conversation with Lieutenant Commander A.-L., Whistler Barracks, Teshie, Accra, Ghana (17 October 2014). 10. Informal conversation with Lance Corporal A., Whistler Barracks, Teshie, Accra, Ghana (17 October 2014). 11. Interviews with Lieutenant S., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (2 and 10 May 2014). 12. Interview with Air Force Warrant Officer Class I D., Air Force Base, Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (6 July 2014). 13. Interview with Captain I., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (14 March 2014). 14. Interviews and various informal conversations with officers and men throughout 2014.

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15. Informal conversation with Major A., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (15 July 2014). 16. Interview with Major General A. Accra, Ghana (1 May 2014). 17. Interview with Warrant Officer Class I A., Michel Camp, Tema, Accra, Ghana (15 May 2014). 18. Interview with Fleet Chief Petty Officer A., Eastern Naval Command Base, Tema, Accra, Ghana (7 July 2014). 19. Focus group discussion with sergeants, Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (4 April 2014). 20. Interview with Warrant Officer Class I A., Michel Camp, Tema, Accra, Ghana (15 May 2014). 21. Interview with Air Force Warrant Officer Class I O., Air Force Base, Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (20 July 2014). 22. Ibid. 23. Ibid. 24. Ibid. 25. Interview with Lieutenant A., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (23 March 2014). 26. Ibid. 27. Interview with a Squadron Leader, Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (16 July 2014). 28. Interview with a Lieutenant Colonel, Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (6 March 2014). 29. Interview with Chief Petty Officer Class II A., Eastern Naval Command Base, Tema, Accra, Ghana (16 July 2014). 30. Information from website KAIPTC: see http://www.kaiptc.org/Training/ (accessed 9 August 2015). 31. Ibid. 32. Interview with General B. (rtd), Accra, Ghana (4 June 2014). 33. Ibid. 34. Ghana Armed Forces Act, 1962. 35. Interview with General B. (rtd), Accra, Ghana (4 June 2014). 36. Interview with General B. (rtd), Accra, Ghana (4 June 2014). 37. Interview with Chief Petty Officer Class II A., Eastern Naval Command Base, Tema, Accra, Ghana (16 July 2014). 38. Interview with K., Teshie, Accra, Ghana (3 September 2014). 39. Ibid. 40. Interviews with Captains A. and M., Teshie, Accra, Ghana (3 and 12 March 2014). 41. Similar to military diffusion, the theory of military emulation also harbours various debates and schools that I will not engage in, as these debates are irrelevant for the argument being pursued here. 42. Interview with Lieutenant Colonel O., Michel Camp, Tema, Accra, Ghana (13 May 2014).

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43. The length of the cadet training over the years has varied quite dramatically. There were periods, for example in the 1960s, in which cadets were trained for twenty-four months, and there have been years that the training period was twenty-one months. 44. The Africa Contingency Operations Training and Assistance (ACOTA) programme is funded and managed by the U.S. Department of State. The initiative is designed to improve African militaries’ capabilities by providing selected training and equipment necessary for multinational peace support operations. United States Africa Command supports the ACOTA programme by providing military mentors, trainers and advisors at the request of the State Department. ACOTA provides a full range of peacekeeping training and instruction tailored to match a country’s needs and capabilities. The programme focuses on sub-Saharan African soldiers from partner nations who are scheduled to participate in a peace support operation or who are designated to be in a standby mode to do so. Source: http://www.africom.mil/ what-we-do/security-cooperation-programs/acota-africa-contingency-operat ions-training-and-assistance (accessed 2 August 2014). 45. Interview with Lieutenant Colonel Y.-M., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (25 March 2014). 46. Ibid. 47. Ibid. 48. Interview with General E. (rtd), Accra, Ghana (9 September 2014). 49. Ibid. 50. I have chosen not to put in any references, as I wish to keep the informants anonymous. 51. Ibid. 52. Ibid. 53. Interview with an anonymous English officer, England (March 2013). 54. Interview with a Lieutenant Colonel, Camberley, England (5 March 2013). 55. Ibid. 56. Ibid. 57. Ibid. 58. See Page Fortna and Morjé Howard (2008) for an extensive literature review of the peacekeeping field. 59. Interview with a Lieutenant Colonel D., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (8 September 2014), who is involved in the indoctrination and training of soldiers before departure on peacekeeping missions. 60. Interview with Lieutenant A., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (25 March 2014). 61. Stated in the Ghana National Defence Policy, 2009. 62. United Nations Factsheet: http://www.un.org/en/peacekeeping/resources/ statistics/factsheet.shtml. For statistics see: http://www.providingforpeacekeeping.org/2014/04/03/contributor-profile-ghana/ (both accessed 5 December 2015).

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63. That amount, according to an informant who organizes the preparation of Ghanaian soldiers bound for peacekeeping, is $32 per soldier per day (at the time of writing). From this amount, the soldier receives $30 a day allowance for the mission, which totals $5,400 for a mission of six months. There is a new directive, according to my informants, in which it is reported that from now on the peacekeeping missions will be undertaken for a period of twelve months. Missions in Mali and South Sudan are already undertaken for a year. This also means the remuneration would amount to $10,800. 64. However, the peacekeeping arena could offer the best circumstances for plotting coups, as coup makers are camped together and can meet and plot while on deployment without attracting the attention of superiors and intelligence agents. According to an informant involved in the coup of 31 December 1981, it was plotted while the orchestrators were deployed to Lebanon in 1980. 65. Informal conversation with Captain A., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (5 January 2015). 66. Various: interview with Brigadier General A. (rtd), Accra, Ghana (8 January 2014); interview with Warrant Officer Class I S., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (7 March 2014); Focus Group with Sergeants, Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (4 April 2014). 67. Interview with Warrant Officer Class II M., Kamina Barracks, Tamale (8 August 2014). 68. Ibid. 69. Interview with Lieutenant Colonel H., Kamina Barracks, Tamale (5 August 2014). 70. Interview with Warrant Officer Class I B.R., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (17 March 2014). 71. Informal conversation with Staff Sergeant N.Q., Michel Camp, Tema, Accra, Ghana (19 May 2014). 72. Ibid. 73. Interview with Warrant Officer Class II M., Kamina Barracks, Tamale (8 August 2014). 74. Ibid. 75. Interview with Sergeant A., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (5 April 2014). 76. That is in search of a better life for themselves. 77. Interview with Sergeant A., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (5 April 2014). 78. Ibid. 79. Focus Group with Sergeants, Sergeant D., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (4 April 2014). 80. Interview with Sergeant A., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (5 April 2014). 81. Ibid. 82. Interview with Major A., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (9 April 2014). 83. Interview with Group Captain D., Air Force Base, Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (24 July 2014).

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84. Ibid. 85. Interview with Air Force Warrant Officer Class I O., Air Force Base, Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (20 July 2014). 86. Interview with Lieutenant Commander, Eastern Naval Command, Tema, Accra, Ghana (15 July 2014). 87. Ibid. 88. Informal conversation with Warrant Officer Class I A., Michel Camp, Tema, Accra, Ghana (15 May 2014). 89. Interviews and informal conversations with many senior non-commissioned officers throughout my fieldwork. They found it extremely important that when their offspring join the military they do not become other ranks like them but rather officers. It is a dream for many of them. 90. Interview with Air Force Warrant Officer Class I O., Air Force Base, Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (20 July 2014). 91. Focus Group with Sergeants, Sergeant T.R., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (4 April 2014). 92. Interview with Sergeant H., Michel Camp, Tema, Accra, Ghana (14 May 2014). 93. Ibid.

✫ c ha p te r 6

Transformation in Broad Perspective Professionalism, Civility and Civil–Military Relations

his book has assessed the transformation process initiated after the ‘critical events’ (Das 1995) of the killing of two naval officers and an OR at the Sekondi Naval Base but also a series of failed attempted coups (Nugent 1995) by the PNDC under the chairmanship of Rawlings. I have provided an analysis of the transformations that have taken place within the Ghanaian barracks (and that are still ongoing) since the beginning of the 1980s in the effort not only to restore everydayness and military order after the critical events (Das 1995) but also engineer a better public image of the Ghana Armed Forces and improve civil–military relations (which as a result of interference in national politics in the past have been tense). The previous chapters examined the dynamics of the transformation undergone by Ghanaian soldiers and their military within the barracks. In the course of this book, I have dealt extensively with, among other things, discipline (Arkin and Dobrofsky 1978; Soeters and Recht 1998), subjection (Foucault 1977; Butler 1997), hierarchy (Dumont 1970 [1966]; Janowitz and Little 1974; Fox 1996), trust (Baier 1986; Jones 1996; Adams and Webb 2002; Origgi 2006), the transfer of values through education via military diffusion (Goldman 2006; Horowitz 2010) and military emulation (Resende-Santos 2007; Farrell and Terriff 2002) and international exposure through boundary crossers (Kilpatrick, Johns and Whelan 2008) and peacekeeping missions (Hutchful 1997b, 1999; Aning et al. 2013). Janowitz (1960: x) points out that the military is an organization consisting of and run by humans, adding to the complexity of the institution itself. This means that essential adjustments and changes to the military are gradual. Moreover, the transformation does not only involve adjusting

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organizational structures but also includes tweaking human behaviour, which can prove challenging and prolong the process. The question is whether it is ever completed. Evaluation of the transformation of the Ghanaian military calls for the assessment of the role the Ghana Armed Forces have played historically in Ghana and decisions taken by the PNDC regime at particular key moments. One could argue that the Ghana Armed Forces negatively impacted their host society. Through the initiation of the transformation process in the Ghanaian barracks, the PNDC aimed at breaking the negative spiral to gain more control over the military and banish coups. The notion of ‘civility’, inspired by Elias (1982 [1939]), is the ‘civilizing’ process undergone in Europe from feudal to modern times. The processual character of civility, rather than a particular definition or experience of civility in a given period and location, is useful for my analysis. According to Elias, the civilizing process is an initiated change that at times may seem incoherent, and even chaotic, but upon deeper examination, visible patterns can be discovered (ibid.: 319), ‘for the profile of past changes in the social fabric becomes most sharply visible when seen against the events of one’s own time’ (ibid.). Placed in the context of the Ghana Armed Forces, this means that in order for us to understand the transformation process in the barracks, we have to assess past events and measure them against current affairs. By doing so, the contours of the initiated change can be discovered and assessed. Elias notes that ‘[t]he deeper we penetrate the wealth of particular facts to discover the structure and regularities of the past, the more clearly emerges a firm framework of processes within which the scattered facts are taken up’ (ibid.). In other words, digging deeper into facts of a particular past event reveals the structure and dynamics of a seemingly chaotic occurrence. Measured against current affairs, the pattern underlying the changes initiated in the past is revealed. enabling us to take certain measures to sustain, maintain and improve the civilizing process, which ‘when seen from the point of view of human relationships, appears as the process of advancing integration, increased differentiation of social function and interdependence’ (ibid.: 88). In the Ghanaian context, civility can be seen as the tool through which the Ghanaian military positively impacts its host society, generating a favourable public imagination of itself and improving civil–military relations. The focus of the chapter will be on two sets of interrelated events that were geared towards engineering a favourable public image of the Ghana Armed Forces. Firstly, I examine the military institution’s efforts to strengthen professional values through, for example, apart from soldierly values, appealing to professional pride and the incorporation of

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64 Infantry Regiment into its existing command and control structure; both activities can also be viewed as a continuation or integral part of the transformation process in the Ghanaian barracks. Secondly, I analyse the efforts to open up the military institution in a bid to improve civil–military relations. In this chapter, contrary to the predominantly empirical analyses of the previous chapters, my aim is to analyse the transformation process of the Ghana Armed Forces in a broader societal perspective and to pull together the various transformative factors presented throughout this endeavour under the conceptual umbrella of professionalism, civility and civil–military relations. The guiding (but by no means exhaustive) question of this chapter is whether, in view of the considerable efforts to transform the Ghana Armed Forces, coups are still possible in this West African country.

Towards Professionalism in the Ghana Armed Forces The Poor Public Image of the Ghana Armed Forces in Conflict with Professional Pride The Ghanaian military was a colonial legacy, as the British colonial masters raised militaries such as the RWAFF and the Gold Coast Constabulary (GCC) for internal security assignments (Aboagye 1999; Addae 2005). In effect, these militaries were police forces that policed the colonial territories in defence of the interest of the colonizers (Baynham 1994: 10).1 In executing the policing duties, the Buga-Buga soldiers used excessive force on their compatriots on the colonizers’ behalf, leading to estrangement from their civilian counterparts.2 An interlocutor described the response of civilians to colonial soldiers: In those days, I am told, anytime people saw soldiers, it had to do with them using some sort of force against people. That is why the moment people saw soldiers or military vehicles, they scattered. They feared being victimized.3

These encounters coloured civilian perceptions of soldiers. The colonial soldier was considered ‘vulgar, uncouth and brutal’ (Finer 1962: 11). Since the Ghana Armed Forces is considered a descendant of the RWAFF and GCC (Aboagye 1999; Addae 2005), this poor perception was transferred to the post-independent Ghanaian military. Additionally, the Ghana Armed Forces’ orchestration of multiple coups paved the way for ‘some soldiers to take the law into their own hands and brutalize civilians’.4 Through such actions, the military became a source of societal unrest in attracting further negative associations from

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the Ghanaian general public. The poor image civilians have of the Ghanaian military is still prevalent today, as the armed forces are considered a threat by a certain section of society and are viewed as ‘an institution that is power thirsty, an organization that cannot do without coups’.5 Soldiers and the military establishment are considered ‘civilian-unfriendly’ entities.6 Furthermore, stealing and the extortion and intimidation of people (Nugent 1995; Oquaye 2004) by (young) Ghanaian soldiers in the coup era alienated the military from its host society. The informants quoted here admit that their misbehaviour contributed to the poor public image of the Ghana Armed Forces. The young soldiers went to the Makola market to find goods that were scarce in the system. Apart from that, at times we went into people’s houses to collect personal effects [i.e. stealing]. We were young and very dangerous. Our behaviour definitely contributed to the bad image of the Armed Forces.7

Another informant adds: In the 80s when I passed out we were aggressive. We had a terrible haircut, which made us look alien to civilians. If someone laughed at you, you’d fight the person.8

Although the civilian population viewed Ghanaian soldiers as ‘uneducated brutes’ (Baynham 1994), or ‘abongo people’ (ibid.; Agyeman-Duah 2002; Oquaye 2004; Clune 2014) as they were called, brutalizing and abusing civilians certainly did not help to improve soldiers’ relationship with society. Moreover, the military, due to the coups, was considered unprofessional (Baynham 1985a, 1985b; Nugent 1995) by the Ghanaian general public. The breakdown of everydayness and military order was the final nail in the coffin for the poor image of the Ghanaian military. My informants note that these factors together were causing the military to rapidly lose credibility in its host society. ‘We had to do something to repair the damage.’9 This was necessary not only to salvage the reputation of the Ghana Armed Forces per se but also relations within the barracks and with the outside world – i.e. civil–military relations. The first action taken was to improve the level of professionalism of the Ghanaian military. King (2013: 341) notes that the institutionalization of professionalism as the honourable status of the military is a normative standard by which the armed forces judge themselves but also by which they are judged by outsiders. That is because the implementation of professionalization sets the moral parameters within which soldiers are expected to act and behave. According to Janowitz, ‘professionalisation is a concept which implies an element of desirable behaviour’ (1960: 6).

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Desirable behaviour in the context of the Ghanaian military entails, among other things, adhering to soldierly values, being disciplined and respecting authority and hierarchy. Additionally, a military institution judges itself according to the norms of professionalism, as prescribed by Huntington (1957), in which the armed forces not only abide by the three elements of expertise, responsibility and corporateness but also subjects itself to civilian control. Huntington further points out that the modern officer is a specialist with a professional ethos in a democratic setting and does not engage in politics (ibid.: 8–10). The military leadership subordinates their institution to civilian authority and ensures that the military establishment is politically sterile (ibid.) in order to remain politically neutral in the national political arena. A military that participates in politics, in Huntington’s view, is not a professional organization (ibid.: 80). Since politics, as Huntington observes, involves trade-offs between political actors (ibid.), politics is therefore the playground of politicians and not of soldiers, who lack the required skills to intervene effectively. Ghanaian soldiers lost their status as an honourable group and with it the crucial respect of the host society,10 due to colonial legacy, bullying of civilians and human rights abuses, and as a result, the professional pride of the Ghanaian soldiers was seriously bruised.11 Moreover, the Ghanaian military’s involvement in politics ‘made us in the eyes of the general public look unprofessional.’12 Despite the perceptions that exist of the Ghanaian military operatives, I observe that they do take professional pride in their service oath: You have taken an oath to sacrifice. That is, you want to sacrifice your life for the nation. You think of the work first before yourself. That is something you cherish, [that] is important and it makes you proud.13

The soldier may take pride in his oath, but this is worthless when the general public believes that the military exists to exploit, abuse and terrorize them rather than protect them. The pride associated with serving in an honourable group such as the military increases in value and meaning when it is trusted by the societal groups it serves. As long as the image of the Ghanaian military is poor and soldiers are associated with coups and human rights violations and are generally seen as a source of societal unrest, military operatives cannot not claim the honour and pride associated with service and sacrifice for their country. The soldier’s sworn oath in which he has stated his willingness to sacrifice his life in the service of his country is perhaps the most important element of his professional pride. ‘The oath and the commitment make us as soldiers stand taller than our civilian compatriots, who have not made such a commitment to our nation.’14

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Professional pride can also be fuelled by technical competence and expertise; for example, if you are a fighter pilot. The soldier is part of an organization that fights wars, and within this structure, he has a specified task and a particular role to play. The point is that the soldier’s professional pride and his association with the Ghana Armed Forces are important to him, as the military establishment forms an important aspect of his identity. The Ghanaian soldier, I observed in my interactions in the barracks, is careful not to tarnish the general public perception of his profession and the institution he is professionally affiliated with. The Ghanaian military – certainly after the creation of the disciplined soldier subject – also ensures that its soldiers do not smear its public image. As a result, not only the soldier but also the military is restrained, thus mostly adhering to prescribed behaviour and professional values and norms. The soldier, by abiding by the rules, contributes to improving civil–military relations. Moreover, the soldier’s restraint contributes to extracting the professional pride he yearns for from the general public. In view of the above, the poor image of the Ghana Armed Forces represented an undesirable situation that called for a rigorous approach. The mending of the bruised professional pride of the Ghanaian soldier marks the shift from a military whose members conducted coups and brutalized civilians to one that strives to live by professional norms and standards, including refraining from political engagement and coups. An informant formulated this necessity as follows: In the past we were unprofessional when we were involved in coups and administration of the state. It is not our mandate to govern. We are to protect. The people didn’t like us the way we were. The people did not want to have anything to do with us. So our leadership had to do something, to change these perceptions.15

Another informant notes that considering the uncomfortable social interactions between soldiers and civilians, it was inevitable that change had to be initiated to improve relations between civilians and soldiers. In the past, there was no interpersonal relation between soldiers and civilians. They [civilians] saw us as evil because of how some of us behaved. After the return to democracy in 1992, our big men realized that we had painted a black image of ourselves. We could not go on like that. Something had to change.16

The professional pride of the Ghana Armed Forces’ personnel was nonexistent as a result of soldiers’ misbehaviour. As an institution that aims to be judged as professional, the Ghana Armed Forces could not continue on the same path. ‘We are soldiers; we want to be proud of what

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we do. We want our family members to be proud and not be afraid to be associated with us.’17 Doing nothing about this situation was not an option, as the disciplined soldier subject considers professional pride and the respect of society fundamental to soldiering and his existence. The weight of losing professional pride and respect was too heavy a load on the shoulders of the disciplined soldier subject. He was (quietly) demanding action from his leadership, but also wanting to tackle the general societal dissatisfaction with the military. At the beginning of the 2000s, the military leadership, under the command of the then CDS Lieutenant General Seth Obeng (2001–2005) adopted measures – which were a continuation of the existing policy – to prevent members of its organization from causing societal unrest, either through the orchestration of coups or violating citizens’ human rights. The aim of these measures was not only to generate professionalism and engineer a favourable public perception but also eventually increase the ‘moral authority’ of the Ghanaian military (King 2013: 338). According to my interlocutors, Ghanaian soldiers no longer wanted to be labelled ‘evil’ by their civilian compatriots, as had been the case for so long.

Professionalism and Civilian Control In the process of transforming the Ghana Armed Forces, the quest for professional pride for the disciplined soldier subject led to the reinstitutionalization of professionalism in the Ghanaian barracks. Although military professionalism has many components, a very import element is a military’s adherence to civilian control (Huntington 1957; Janowitz 1960; Abrahamsson 1971). In line with scholars like Huntington, Janowitz and Abrahamsson, my informants consider acceptance of civilian oversight of the military a sign of professionalism. For the majority of my military interlocutors, the notion of civilian control means that ‘the military is under the supervision of a democratically elected civilian government which runs and directs the military through the ministry of defence’.18 Civilian institutions provide policy direction for the military institution (Dunlap 1994; Feaver 1999; Brooks 2008; Herspring 2013), and soldiers are the ‘policy implementers’ (Kemp and Hudlin 1992). ‘Politics is a way of life, but soldiers are recruited to guard the state – to provide security for the state.’19 My informants contend that the Ghana Armed Forces’ credibility is based on their adherence to the notion of civilian control. In the words of an informant, ‘in the past when we were not under anybody’s authority and we were not accountable to anybody, no one respected us. Now the situation is different.’20

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Before the critical events (Das 1995) and the installation of Ghana’s Fourth Republic in 1992, Ghana had mostly been under military rule. As a result, the Ghana Armed Forces ‘were accountable to no-one but to ourselves. Now Ghana is democratic and the military has to be under civilians’.21 Additionally, since the PNDC government in 1992 reinstated the constitution of the country (Oquaye 2004), the notion of civilian oversight has been embedded in the country’s legislature. It is also explicitly stated in the Ghana National Defence Policy 2009, article 53: ‘The Constitution confers on Parliament wide-ranging legislative and oversight responsibilities concerning the functions of the military and defence in general.’ It is further stated in this chapter that [t]he Defence Policy acknowledges the principle of civil supremacy over the Armed Forces. The Ghanaian parliament, in collaboration with the Minister for Defence and the President (who is also the Commander-in-Chief), exercises civilian control over the Ghanaian military, which recognizes the authority of these organs. The military’s adherence to this notion and its acceptance of civilians as superior are a large element of its professionalism. And for the disciplined soldier subject, the notion of civilian control is a source of professional pride, due to, among other things, his socialization, education and the type of exposure he has had to the international military arena. I sense from interactions in and outside the barracks that the prestige of the institution and its members is steadily growing. Apart from civilian control being, in their view, the ultimate condition for professionalism, soldiers have compared their living and working conditions under military rule with the conditions under civilian governments. The conclusion is that ‘under Rawlings, the well-being and welfare of soldiers were neglected’.22 According to an informant, Rawlings’ PNDC regime and the subsequently democratically elected government under the National Democratic Congress (NDC) only catered for those who formed part of their powerbase.23 An informant recalls a military meeting in Burma Camp – the main barracks of the Ghana Armed Forces – that was chaired by Rawlings just before he left the political scene, in which soldiers complained to him about their living and working conditions. ‘Rawlings told the audience that he was only concerned with serving the nation. He had done his part and was not concerned with us.’24 Another informant recounts that ‘Rawlings’ answer shocked us. This was a man some of our people had died fighting for. Here he was telling us that he doesn’t care about us. We realized he was in power just for himself.’25 The meeting also set in motion a process of self-reflection and assessment. My informants concluded that military rulers (ab)use soldiers for their own political goals. The military operative’s broader living and

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working conditions are, for coup makers like Rawlings, not a priority. This became painfully evident to my informants at that durbar. After reflecting on and assessing their services to coup makers, the soldiers reckoned that their needs and corporate interests were most likely best served by civilian governments. ‘Rawlings left the Ghanaian military in a deplorable state; soldiers’ living and working conditions were poor. Some soldiers lived in dilapidated quarters, while our pay was very low.’26 Soldiers’ dissatisfaction with previous military regimes, bruised professional pride, poor working and living conditions and a lack of respect from the general public represented an opportunity for the newly elected government of the New Patriotic Party (NPP) of President John Kufuor (who succeeded Rawlings’ NDC in 2000) to generate goodwill in the barracks (Frempong 2007: 156). Ironically, Ansah-Koi (2007: 197) points out, this government improved the conditions of service for the security services, including the military, by investing in communication systems and improving their salary scales. The improvement of the service conditions generated goodwill for the new administration, thereby extracting new terms for civilian control. Frempong (2007: 156) contends that because the new administration improved the service conditions of the security agencies, it could push through its transformation agenda for the security services, including the military, without a backlash. An informant confirms this point: We saw that the civilians are good to us. They have given us a pay rise and started improving our living conditions. Rawlings was here for nineteen years and did nothing for us! We could not help but to support the NPP. The new minister of Defence, Dr Addo Kufuor, started project after project. He built us a new assembly hall, Burma Hall. We just had to support them. People started to wonder why we supported Rawlings for so long.27

The new government’s actions and their investments in the military helped deepen the notion of civilian oversight, as soldiers came to appreciate the country’s new direction as well as the improvement in their working and living conditions. According to Aning (2008: 334), ‘the military may have realised that as an institution, there is really nothing to lose, but rather more to gain, by accepting the imperative of democratic control,’ and perhaps that ‘its corporate interests are best served by staying professional’ (Agyeman-Duah 2002: 24). In the new situation, the military had everything to gain, including professional pride and respect from the general public, as their issues were being coupled with reforms that increased public faith in the security services.

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Apart the military’s interests being better served by the new civilian government, the military’s level of professionalism was also taken to a higher level with the new investments. Ansah-Koi (2007: 195) notes that the Kufuor government ‘demilitarized’ Ghana by moving the Ghana Armed Forces, which had a prominent profile during Rawlings’ presidency, back to the barracks. The move contributed to refocusing the Ghanaian military on ‘its core tasks of defending the country against external aggressors’ (ibid.) and to repairing the bruised professional pride of the Ghana Armed Forces. Professionalism, King points out, could provide guidance for soldiers’ behaviour (2013: 342). He further notes that professionalism transforms the armed forces as an institution and that this transformation is likely to have a considerable impact on the its host society (ibid.: 429). In the Ghanaian context, in line with King, apart from the Ghanaian soldier’s skills and adherence to the principles of civilian control being central to his professionalism, he also increased his professionalism through values gained through training, such as integrity, courage, fairness and truthfulness. These values are important to his practice of being a soldier in the Ghanaian barracks and beyond. These values distinguish him from various other groups in society and not only enhance the Ghanaian soldier’s professional pride but also inform his actions and judgment, in and outside the barracks, thereby contributing to the transformation process of his institution. Professionalism has many facets including a good skillset, adherence to the notion of civilian control and competence. The soldier is expected to stand out because of his moral uprightness (King 2013) and his professional training, expertise and values. Most importantly, professionalism is an attitude internalized by the soldier, performed through his body and radiated to the world in and outside the barracks. A professional soldier is knowledgeable about his job, and, most importantly, he has exceptional values that distinguish him from others. However, to gain professional pride and respect from the general public, it is not enough for the military operative to exhibit that he is a competent soldier with values only in the barracks; the military establishment also aims to engineer a positive public perception of itself. This requires the Ghanaian military and its personnel to reach out, to build bridges and interact with the Ghanaian society at large. However, in these interactions, it is paramount that the Ghana Armed Forces ensure that soldiers are professional and do not maltreat and abuse their civilian compatriots but rather be of service to them. Additionally, as a military that strives for professionalism and attempts to favourably impact society, it should never be a source of societal unrest; it

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must actively work to improve its image and its relationship with society in general. In the following section, I examine another way in which the Ghana Armed Forces have sought to increase professionalism while engineering a favourable public image of its institution, which is by incorporating 64 Infantry Regiment into its command structure.

64 Infantry Regiment: Rawlings’ Babies/Rawlings’ Darlings? Janowitz (1960: 430) asserts that the military professional, like other professionals, is self-critical. Self-criticism is a prerequisite to initiate and implement change (ibid.), such as the transformation process in the Ghanaian barracks. The Ghanaian military had initiated steps to alter the attitudes of its personnel in order to attain the highest level of professionalism. However, after the departure of Rawlings in 2000, there were still issues that needed to be included in the transformation process. According to Howe (2001), there have been numerous presidential guards on the African continent, such as Siaka Stevens’s Special Security Division in Sierra Leone, Mobutu Sese Seko’s Division Speciale Presidentielle in Congo, Sani Abacha’s Special Bodyguard Service in Nigeria or Nkrumah’s President’s Own Guard Regiment in Ghana (Howe 2001: 44). Howe also notes that the establishment of these special units, which are usually better paid and better equipped (ibid.: 49), diminishes the regular armed forces’ level of professionalism, as ‘a military that aims to be recognized for its professionalism must have command and control over all its regiments, units and services.’28 One of my informants maintained 64 Infantry Regiment, a specialized unit, under PNDC rule but also when Rawlings was democratically elected President of Ghana. This specialized unit did not immediately fall under the authority of the Ghanaian military, but after 2000, the unit had to be discontinued if the Ghanaian military was to achieve its professional ideal and continue the transformation process in the barracks. In this section, I deal in-depth with 64 Infantry Regiment in order to make a larger point on how this unit was a military within the Ghanaian military. The point is that if 64 Infantry Regiment had remained outside the control of the Ghanaian military this would have reflected negatively on the institution but would have also continued to generate the negative perception that the Ghanaian society had of the military establishment. Moreover, this unit under the PNDC contributed to the Ghanaian military’s poor image by operating its own courts where ‘civilians were militarily disciplined’ (Agyeman-Duah 2002: 10).

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The roots of 64 Infantry Regiment lie in the establishment of the Forces Reserve Unit, which later became the Forces Reserve Battalion (FRB) and, in 1992, under constitutional rule, it mutated into 64 Infantry Regiment.29 The members of this special unit were drawn from cadres and other foot soldiers of the 31st December 1981 revolutionaries (Ansah-Koi 2007: 195). The number sixty-four is believed to derive from 4th June 1979, the date of the first junior ranks mutiny (ibid.). According to an informant, the PNDC government set up the regiment because the new leadership did not trust the military.30 This explains why, for instance, the administrative control over 64 Infantry Regiment was under the authority of the military while the operational control, which dealt with deployment of the troops, among other things, remained in Rawlings’ hands.31 The aim of this military unit was ‘to support the government at the time and to provide security against internal and external aggression’ (basically, to defend the Revolution).32 Due to their mission, the soldiers of this regiment received special training in countries such as ‘Libya, Russia, Algeria and Cuba’.33 The special training meant some soldiers specialized as divers, snipers, commandos and tank operators.34 An informant who received this kind of specialized training describes his experiences: Our Cuban trainers were really hardcore, and crazy. All the training and exercises were done with live ammunition. If you joke, you will get killed. That made us sharp and kept us on our toes.35

Additionally, the commanders of the unit made training a top priority, while other battalions and regiments of the Ghana Armed Forces were paralysed and hardly allowed to undertake exercises for fear of their members orchestrating a coup against the regime.36 Thus soldiers, especially the young Private Soldiers and Lance Corporals, according to my informants, were regularly sent out on training exercises. We trained a lot in those days. We went to the range a lot. We wanted to be perfect at shooting. We had to take a shooting test, every quarter or every six months. That was recorded, so you had to do well.37

The soldiers of 64 Infantry Regiment were not only better trained than the regular forces, but were also well-catered for by the PNDC and the subsequent NDC government. An informant notes that these soldiers were under the care of the ministers of Interior and Defence, and that meant that the soldiers received preferential treatment from their commanders.38 Additionally, the troops received extra incentives to perform duties such as guarding the leaders of the Revolution.

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We were very well taken care of under Rawlings. We had a fleet of vehicles, more than any other unit. In addition, we were better paid. If the soldiers from other units were being paid four cedis [$1, current rate], we were being paid eight cedis [$2]. In addition, when we escorted the President, we were given extra incentives. And when we went for Independence Day march [parade], we were paid extra. We’ll receive envelopes with 200 cedis [$50] in them.39

Not only did the members of this regiment receive preferential treatment, according to my interlocutors, the unit also had access to the best of military and logistical equipment, such as long-range artillery, special machine guns, rifles, tanks and a fleet of vehicles to carry out ‘revolutionary duties’.40 Moreover, while members of the regular Ghanaian military were obliged to keep their weapons at the armoury, the soldiers of 64 Infantry Regiment were allowed to keep their weapons with them, ‘so that when they are called upon to move they move without having to report to the regiment for their weapons’.41 At the end of the 1990s, however, this policy had to be revoked because ‘unfortunately, some of our people committed suicide with their weapons’.42 Critics and other observers characterized 64 Infantry Regiment under Rawlings as a ‘military within the military’.43 This special position and treatment created a division between them and the regular forces. Moreover, there was envy in the barracks towards the members of 64 Infantry Regiment, resulting in names such as ‘Rawlings’ Darlings’44 and ‘Rawlings’ Babies’.45 Oquaye (2004) asserts that during the Revolution, the Ghana Armed Forces had the strength of 5,000 operatives. An informant, a member of this unit before the 2000 elections, tells me that his unit had around 2,000 soldiers. ‘We had the capability to paralyse the entire Ghana Armed Forces back then because we had very sophisticated weaponry.’46 In accordance with Howe, an armed force within an armed force leads not only to decreased firepower of the regular military but also a decreased level of professionalism, as is evident from the establishment of 64 Infantry Regiment. After Rawlings’ departure from the political scene, as part of the new administration’s push for reforming the security agencies, including the military, the government in collaboration with the military leadership started to work together to improve the professionalism of the Ghanaian military. To achieve this aim, according to my informants, 64 Infantry Regiment could not be allowed to operate and exist as an armed force within the Ghana Armed Forces. Ansah-Koi (2007: 195) claims that the 64 Infantry Regiment was disbanded after Rawlings vacated the presidency. However, that is not the case, as during my fieldwork at Gondar Barracks, Burma Camp, I regularly interacted with soldiers from this regiment (Figure 6.1). In fact, I conducted almost a month of my fieldwork with this unit.

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Figure 6.1. Unit flag of 64 Infantry Regiment, Gondar Barracks. Photo by the author.

It must be noted that the Kufuor administration had been advised to disband the unit. An informant sheds light on what happened in the early 2000s: When Kufuor came to power, the perception was that we were a party unit. That is the unit of the NDC. That is why the government tried to

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disband us. We were sacked from key areas of our operations, such as the then government seat of power the Castle and the GBC. We were shown on television with our people leaving their positions. General Obeng, the then CDS, advised against disbanding the unit. Instead, it was sort of dismantled and reassembled.47

The civilian government had the intention of closing the unit but was advised against this idea by the military leadership. An informant points out that due to the large numbers of extremely well-trained operatives of the unit, the military leadership feared a backlash from dismantling the regiment. The military and political leadership opted for the incorporation of the unit into the existing military command structure to gain and maintain control over these soldiers.48 The number of unit operatives was reduced from around 2,00049 to the current between 400 and 500 soldiers. An informant explains what happened to members of the regiment and other things that affected his unit. Some of our guys were posted outside to other units – 3BN [3 Battalion Infantry], 4BN [4 Battalion Infantry] and the 66 Artillery Regiment – where they are still working. Those who were eligible for pension were released. This is how those who had ‘questionable characters’ [potential troublemakers] were purged from the [military] system. In addition, most of our weapons, especially the sophisticated ones, such as long-range artillery, were given to the 66 Artillery Regiment. And now, everyone has to keep his gun, rifle and pistol at the unit armoury. We also lost most of our vehicles to other units. This whole place was filled with cars [pointing to the surroundings]. They are all gone now. Nowadays, we don’t get extra pay. We receive the same salary as all other soldiers and officers. We don’t receive any extras after escorting the President and other VIPs. It is part of our job. Because of this, some of the old guys miss the Revolution period. They lament those good old days when life was good. When Rawlings was their boss they lacked nothing. Now 64 [Infantry Regiment] is part of the Ghana Armed Forces, a unit under the Army HQ [Headquarters]. The unit is just like any other unit. 64 [Infantry Regiment] used to be a military within the military, but now due to mixing and diluting the core of our soldiers with soldiers from other units, the idea of being unique or the idea of being the President’s own has disappeared. Now we serve the elected government from any party.50

In other words, although the unit soldiers still possess their specialized skills, they are no longer treated preferentially like under the PNDC, as now 64 Infantry Regiment counts as part of the Ghanaian military establishment. Soldiers of the unit have been posted out to other units, while other soldiers and officers have been brought in, thus eroding and diluting the specialness and the superiority that members of the unit used to

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possess and exhibit during the Revolution. There are also no privileges associated with being a member of 64 Infantry Regiment. Over time, other military units have come to accept and appreciate 64 Infantry Regiment soldiers. An informant from another army unit notes that other units and services embrace 64 Infantry Regiment for its ‘unique brand of operating. They are very hands-on. They get their stuff done very quickly and efficiently’.51 Additionally, the unit under Rawlings was used to escorting and taking care of the security of high profile national and international figures. This is a task that 64 Infantry Regiment on behalf of the Ghanaian military still performs, for instance, for the Ghanaian presidency,52 and ‘they are good at it’.53 Despite the acceptance of the unit, I observe that due to the unit’s origins, its members are still met with some degree of scepticism by people outside the barracks. Additionally, soldiers in the barracks are still careful around soldiers from this unit. Critics have categorized 64 Infantry Regiment under the PNDC as an ‘anti-coup unit’, suggesting that the regiment was behind the longevity of the PNDC regime, as it was in power for more than a decade. Although retired officers and men associated with this regiment may disagree with this analysis, in this period, however, all counter-coups against the regime failed54 (see also Oquaye 2004). An informant, closely associated with the unit, contests the idea of 64 Infantry Regiment as an ‘anti-coup unit’: A unit is established based on a certain need or task. You should see the establishment of 64 [Infantry Regiment] in a broader context. Internationally, for example, in the US [United States of America] they have Rangers, Special Forces, Navy Seals, and all these branches perform a specific task. That is how you should see 64 [infantry Regiment] and not as an anti-coup unit.55

It may well be true that internationally other militaries have specialized forces or units for specific purposes. The fact still remains that during the Revolution all attempted coups in Ghana failed, leading critics to conclude that 64 Infantry Regiment was an anti-coup unit during the Revolution. Additionally, an argument for establishing presidential guards is to keep the President who created them in office (Howe 2001). That is therefore the only way to assess the past role of 64 Infantry Regiment. In other words, 64 Infantry Regiment belongs in the league of presidential guards rather than in the class of special armed units, such as the Navy Seals. That is because Navy Seals have always been, firstly, part of the regular military of the United States of America. Secondly, specialized forces are established to act on behalf of the whole nation. Presidential guards, on the contrary, are created to serve the purposes of their creator.

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Moreover, presidential guards have better and more powerful weaponry (Howe 2001: 49), which allows them to dwarf the capabilities of the regular military. And usually, presidential guards are extremely motivated to fulfil the missions outlined by their creators, as they stand to lose a lot (money, privileges, prestige) if the regime falls. In the old arrangement in the Ghanaian barracks, 64 Infantry Regiment was stronger than the regular armed forces. The new political and military leadership deemed this situation unacceptable, as this reflected poorly not only on them but also on the military as a whole. The aim of the Ghana Armed Forces to improve professionalism within its ranks while enhancing the professional pride of their soldiers would have been difficult to achieve under these circumstances. Additionally, apart from these goals, the aim to reach out to and engage with the Ghanaian general public to change the poor public perception that existed of the military institution in the old constellation would have been bound to fail and also hinder the transformation process in the barracks. Thus, in the early 2000s, if the military wanted to be taken seriously as a professional force that adheres to civilian oversight, it could not afford to allow this situation to continue and had to act. 64 Infantry Regiment had to be incorporated into the existing military command structure. This move can be considered a form of ‘domesticating’ (Ben-Ari and Frühstück 2003: 550) or taming the unit to bring it into an existing order. Had the unit remained autonomous, as it was under Rawlings, it would have been ‘destructive to [the] existing pattern’ (Douglas 1966: 117) and certainly detrimental to the new, emerging pattern of increasing professionalism and enhancing professional pride while transforming the military. Douglas points out that things that stay outside the existing pattern have the potential to be dangerous to existing power relations (ibid.). Concretely, although domesticating the unit harboured a degree of risk in the sense that it could have triggered a backlash, it would have been much more dangerous for the greater goal of enhancing professionalism and transforming the military to allow 64 Infantry Regiment to exist outside the military structure. That would have been sending the ‘wrong’ message to society. That would have been equal to stating that the military is unprofessional and that it has no control over its units, as it entertains another armed forces within its domain and therefore has no monopoly of state violence (Weber 1946). At the barracks level, allowing 64 Infantry Regiment to exist would have ‘spoil[ed] the pattern’ (ibid.). The unit has hence been incorporated as an army unit falling operationally and administratively under the control of the Southern Command of the Ghana Armed Forces. The unit in the 2000s after Rawlings left the political scene was comparable to a feral

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cat, but it has now been ‘domesticated’ (Ben-Ari and Frühstück 2003: 550) through reshaping, diluting, refocusing and redefining its mission in the new situation. The rechannelling and repositioning of the unit in a professional military setting has opened the way for the regiment to resume functioning as a regular army unit as well as for some of its heavy weapons and vehicles to be returned to the commander of the unit. By bringing the unit into the existing pattern (Douglas 1966: 117), all the debates in the past about the role of 64 Infantry in the Ghanaian barracks have been rendered obsolete.

Towards Civility and Improved Civil–Military Relations The processes presented up to this point about the ongoing transformation process of the Ghana Armed Forces have been focused on actors within the barracks. However, an important element of the transformation process is engagement with the outside world; all internal efforts are eventually geared towards this interaction. Although the Ghanaian military has come a long way in transforming its internal structures in creating the disciplined soldier subject and restoring everydayness and military order, it still has to work on the perceptions of the civilian population. To examine this process, I use the lens of civil–military relations and militarization to assess the relationship between the Ghanaian military and its host society. Civil–military relations imply an interaction between the military and its host society. Schaub (2011: 238) defines civil–military relations as ‘the interaction of the military and state, or more broadly, between armed forces and society. Civil–military relations are the relationship between three societal entities: civil authority, the military and society at large’. Militarization, on the other hand, is ‘a step-by-step process by which a person or a thing gradually comes to be controlled by the military or comes to depend for its well-being on militaristic ideas’ (Enloe 2000: 3). This section deals with how the Ghanaian military goes about its goal of improving its relationship with the Ghanaian society and engineering favourable associations – i.e. stimulating a positive attitude towards the military by influencing public opinion in various ways. It is worth noting that although civil–military relations and militarization are closely related, these are two very distinct notions. Militarization, unlike civil–military relations, is a one-sided activity, driven by the military. The military influences its host society because it needs to, for example, mobilize public opinion (Lutz 2001: 248). While the notion of civil–military relations implies a dialogue in which both par-

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ties are influenced or have a voice in the eventual outcome, militarization is a military-driven activity initiated for the specific goal of influencing society. Civility, in this context, is the vehicle through which the Ghanaian military aims to influence its host society and improve civil–military relations, to make a clean break from a chequered past in which soldiers were viewed negatively. Civil–military relations in post-independent Ghana have had various twists and turns. To properly appreciate the evolution of the relationship between the Ghanaian military and its host nation, it is important to point out that Ghana is in its 61st year of independence; twenty-five of these years have been under military rule. Until Rawlings’ departure from the political scene in 2000, the military had been a dominant societal force. The influence of this domination has been unfavourable both for the military institution and society at large. The AFRC and PNDC, due to their poor human rights records, have had the most negative impact on the relationship between the military and Ghanaian society (Agyeman-Duah 2002: 17; Oquaye 2004). Due to this poor record and abuses, Ghanaians had generally negative associations of the military in this period. Agyeman-Duah (2002: 17) notes that the human rights abuses under the PNDC were deliberately designed to shock and to force the Ghanaian population into submission (Agyeman-Duah 2002: 17). The PNDC succeeded in its mission but lost the population’s support, as the abuses spread fear and anxiety, leading the Ghanaian general public to retreat from public and political engagement (ibid.; see also Oquaye 2004). Further, the PNDC and its supporters harassed, intimidated and clamped down on private media, making the public retreat complete, leading to a ‘culture of silence’ (ibid.: 18). The strategy of concerted human rights abuse and the clampdown on the media not only led to a widening gap between the regime and its supporters but the regime and the general public. Although after the establishment of the Fourth Republic in 1992 Rawlings had mutated from a military dictator into the President under the NDC, the military remained a dominant societal force, as its presence and influence was strong and visible (ibid.: 10). Its continued presence generated friction between soldiers and civilians. Moreover, Rawlings in this period seemed to strive more towards upholding the supremacy of the military and its abrasive tradition than directing the Ghana Armed Forces towards democratic control, accountability and building healthy civil–military relations (Agyeman-Duah 2002). Agyeman-Duah (ibid.) notes that the ‘exploits of the presidential commandos and Rawlings’ own braggadocios added to the dominant public view that little had changed

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between the PNDC and NDC regimes insofar as civil–military relations were concerned’ (ibid.: 11). The influence of the military in the public domain in this period did not diminish, thus confirming the already existing poor public perception of the Ghanaian military. Although Rawlings still upheld the idea of military supremacy in this equilibrium and did little to improve civil–military relations, he aspired to improve professionalism in the Ghanaian military. He contracted Canadian and British officers between 1985 and 1992 for the Ghana Military Academy and Training Schools (MATS) to improve the training (ibid.), building the foundation on which later governments developed policy for improving civil–military relations. However, civil–military relations in January 2001 took a turn for the better when the New Patriotic Party (NPP) of President Kufuor assumed office (ibid.: 2). The entrance of the new government marked a new phase in militarization, as the new administration took steps to assert its authority over the military by developing policies that barred partisan activities from the barracks and encouraged interaction and communication between the military and civil society, signalling the beginning of frank and open dialogue between both sides, in search of a long-term and sustainable relationship (ibid.). The open and frank dialogue also marked the beginning of reducing civilians’ negative associations of the military. Additionally, the new government banned soldiers from conducting general policing duties on the streets and providing security at public events (AgyemanDuah 2002: 28; Ansah-Koi 2007: 195). The consequences of these moves were that soldiers were ‘insulated from undue glare and cases of military assaults, harassment and brutalities have declined’ (Agyeman-Duah 2002: 30). Although the relationship between Ghanaian soldiers and civilians will probably never be close and without fear and suspicion, it is my contention that the removal of soldiers from the streets of Ghana has led to fewer incidents of confrontation and abuse, significantly reducing tensions between civilians and the military. The reduction in tensions thus paves the way for open and frank dialogue between civilians and soldiers, therefore creating space for improving civil–military relations in Ghana. The Ghana National Defence Policy recognizes the privileged position of the military in society and acknowledges that the armed forces in a democracy have to be under civilian control: Cordial civil–military relations are premised on the doctrine of civil control over the military or the principle of subordination of the military to civil authority. The State recognises the special place of the military as the only institution in society which is constitutionally and directly charged with the defence of the state from external aggression

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and the maintenance of her territorial integrity and that this fundamental duty places enormous powers and responsibility on the military. For effective performance by the military, it is essential that both the military and the civil society understand their respective roles in a democratic society. This understanding includes well defined areas of cooperation between the military and the civil society. (Ghana National Defence Policy 2009, article 53)

From my interactions in the field with both military and civilian informants, I conclude that the Ghana Armed Forces do subscribe to the statements in policy documents. Such documents are an instrument that is available to the civilian authorities running the Ghanaian military. This adherence speaks to the military’s goal of professionalism and the unique role they play in society as a provider of security. The relationship between the civilian population and the Ghanaian military, according to a great majority of both my military and civilian interlocutors, can be characterized as cordial (see also Agyeman-Duah 2002: 30). Cordial in this context means military and civilian counterparts acknowledge each other’s specific spheres of authority and influence and the tasks they undertake, and they collaborate in the service of their country to achieve their assigned missions. Civilians and military operatives coexist and collaborate without interfering with each other’s areas of expertise and spheres of influence. According to a study cited by Agyeman-Duah on civil–military relations in Ghana, ‘civilians appreciate the military for protecting the territorial integrity of the country and ensuring peace and security’ (ibid.: 12). That concretely means keeping the boundaries of the country intact and managing pockets of tensions, like the tribal conflicts in the Northern parts of Ghana. Additionally, the Ghanaian military is admired for their ‘contribution to disaster relief, keeping the peace at both national and international trouble spots, facilitating civic action such as road and bridge construction, providing health care at the 37 Military Hospital, participating in Operation Calm Life, aimed at halting armed robberies and providing security, and being a national symbol’ (ibid.). This speaks to perceptions expressed by people such as, among others, teachers, civil-servants and traders, with whom I interacted with in the field. In short, the military is increasingly appreciated for performing its assigned duties successfully. It is seen as one of the most effective and least corrupt institutions in the country. Additionally, the services it provides in moments of distress are useful to members of the Ghanaian society. Further, the military’s participation in peacekeeping missions around the world, or when there are conflicts in the Northern Region and other areas of the country, reflects favourably on the military institution. The disciplined

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soldier subject is gaining professional pride and gradually winning the appreciation and respect of the general public; this is a far cry from the era of the Buga-Buga soldier. Despite the current appreciation of the Ghanaian military by a large part of Ghanaian society, there is still a lot of scepticism as to whether the military has really moved on from their past ways of doing things, especially from those who were at the receiving end of the military’s brutalities, such as politicians, former student leaders and journalists. Other informants question whether the improving civilian perception is merely a result of the military institution’s successful public relations. A sceptic expressed their view as follows: The relationship is cordial on paper. When the military is pushed, then they show their true colours. A while ago some media men were attacked when they were taking pictures of the President and some senior officers. These men were attacked when they didn’t adhere to the orders of soldiers to stop taking pictures.56

A civilian informant expressed doubts about soldiers’ intensions when he interacts with them: Now when you see the soldiers, they are all posh and speak nicely, but I am sure if you make them angry, the real ugliness in them will come up. You see bits of it when they drive through town with their hazard lights on and they honk when they are in a hurry. The aggression is still hidden somewhere. In the past it was more on the surface and more in the open; now it is hidden. That makes me distrust the soldiers.57

Despite the efforts of the Ghanaian military to engineer a positive image in the public imagination through measures such as restoring hierarchy and trust, creating the disciplined soldier subject, improving professionalism and efforts to improve civil–military relations, there remains scepticism towards its intentions. Past experiences of civilians and past perceptions still dog the military. Although my military informants understand that civilians have doubts, some military operatives express deep frustration at this. My interlocutors conclude that their current efforts are not appreciated enough by the civilian population. Despite their scepticism, I conclude based on my interactions with ordinary Ghanaians (teachers, lawyers, labourers, fishermen, academics, taxi and lorry drivers, etc.) that they acknowledge that the military’s attitude is changing for the better. My civilian interlocutors reiterate that the soldiers deserve a second chance to prove themselves and are willing to give them the benefit of the doubt.

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The general public are not the only section of society that is deeply sceptical about the military institution and its operatives. The political elite is still wary of the military: We have here [in Ghana] three main groups of politicians. The first group are those who led the country after independence, off and on, until the ‘Revolution’. These people were at the receiving end of the coups and suffered at the hands of the various military regimes. The second group are those we can say were ‘in bed’ with the Ghana Armed Forces; those who saw themselves as part of the military. They ruled the country at the side of the PNDC government. The third group are the new crop of politicians: those who are relatively young in the political system and have no experience with coups and military rule. The first and the third group are wary of the military. They are of the impression that the armed forces can easily get rid of the politicians, if they wanted. Considered in that light, the relationship between the political and the military elites will never be entirely smooth because some politicians deep down still fear the military.58

Despite the improving civil–military relations, the political elite keeps the military at a healthy distance while trying to infiltrate it with political foot soldiers and through appointments at the highest levels (such as CDS and the service commanders such as Army, Navy and Air Forces) to get a grip on the armed forces. Another informant understands why the relationship between the political and military elites is constrained. In life, one must learn lessons from past experiences. Politicians are right to distrust the military because of the past. Politicians cannot completely trust soldiers, because although the relationship between both groups is cordial, the [Ghana] Armed Forces still have the potential to dislodge the civilian government of the day.59

Perhaps, the relationship between the Ghanaian military and political elite cannot be entirely friendly as both elites have diverging interests. According to an informant, as long as both sideline their interests and collaborate to provide military security, prosperity, peace and stability in the country, ‘there is no problem, because then they are working in the interest of the country. That is what we want from them’.60 Although most informants believe that a friendly relationship based on trust between the two sets of elites would perhaps yield the best results, it is by no means, they concur, a condition for executing the tasks given to them. However, friendly relations are a decent point of departure. Considering the past interventions of the military in politics, it should not come as a surprise that politicians will at least be a bit wary of the armed forces.

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Moreover, the experiences and memories of coups in Ghana are still engrained in the minds of people in certain sections of Ghanaian society. These experiences and memories inform the poor public image of the Ghanaian military. While the military can work towards improving civil– military relations, it cannot erase people’s memories of past human rights abuses. There are no quick fixes for altering the public perception of the Ghanaian military. Despite the scepticism surrounding the Ghana Armed Forces’ project of reaching out to the general public and their efforts to engineer a favourable public image and generally improve civil–military relations, the first encouraging steps have been initiated in this rather complex and time-consuming exercise both at the institutional and societal levels.

Openness and Being Less Fenced Off The strained relations that had prevailed for decades between the Ghana Armed Forces and their host society, according to my interlocutors, could not at the beginning of the 2000s continue that way any longer. The professional pride of the disciplined soldier subject and respect from the general public were at stake; the military was rapidly losing credibility in its host society. As part of militarizing society in a manner that generated a positive image and improved civil–military relations, my informants tell me that the Ghana Armed Forces had no choice but to open its doors to the general public, which I consider an act of ‘civility’ (Elias 1982 [1939]). Agyeman-Duah (2002: 2) asserts that since the democratic turn in Ghana in 1992, the Ghanaian military has sought to redeem and reprofessionalize itself as part of its agenda to contribute to the consolidation of democracy in the West African country. Additionally, despite critical assessments of its level of professionalism and scepticism about its positive relations with the civilian population, the Ghanaian military makes a concerted effort to reach out to the civilian population. In this part, I present events that the Ghana Armed Forces organized that were aimed at engineering a favourable public image of themselves, such as the ‘Ghana Armed Forces Open Day’, a highly appreciated event that is considered a form of ‘free entertainment’, which is not widely available in Ghana. I attended this event to observe interactions between the civilian public and military personnel. I talked to both parties about civil–military interactions and to civilians posed the question: does this event improve your perception of the Ghana Armed Forces? Ansah-Koi (2007: 195) points out that the Ghanaian military has embarked on a conscious public relations mission to improve its tarnished

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public image. This conscious effort is what the militarization process is about. Scholars such as Enloe (2000), Lutz (2001) and González (2010) assert that militarization is initiated with a specific goal in mind, be it to improve their image, influence public opinion or cultivate a particular (masculine) image to attract potential new recruits. In the Ghanaian context, the militarization exercise is geared towards redeeming and improving the Ghana Armed Forces’ public image, and this constitutes regular and periodic military–media engagements (AgyemanDuah 2002: 29). According to a member of the communications team responsible for strategizing the engineering of a favourable public image of the Ghana Armed Forces, the aim of these events is ‘to be perceived as professional – civilian friendly, so that people don’t fear us anymore and, in particular, to plan for the future by targeting school children’.61 The militarization process comprises of civility aimed at engineering a ‘positive’ image via good public relations, including billboards with messages (Figure 6.2), and by providing useful services. At public relations or media events, the head of the Ghanaian military and other commanders outline their vision and approach to civil–military relations (ibid.). Lutz (2001: 250) notes that one of the ways in which the military militarizes society and influences public opinion is through the manipulative use of the media. The Ghana Armed Forces are all too aware of the strength of the media and regularly utilize these platforms to broadcast their messages. Apart from the Ghana Armed Forces’ engagement in public relations events, there are private companies that sponsor billboards in and around Ghana’s capital Accra, with publicity messages such as ‘The Ghana Armed Forces Civilian Friendly’ and ‘The Ghana Armed Forces: A Friend in Need’. In any case, why do companies want to be associated with the Ghanaian military? The image of the Ghana Armed Forces has improved. That is why more and more companies want to be associated with us. We are perceived as being ‘milder’. The billboards you see around B.O.D [Base Ordinance Depot, near 37 Military Hospital, close to the centre of Accra] are on our territory. We give these companies the opportunity to put their message out there on our terrain.62

Times have clearly changed. My interlocutors note that in the past it would have been unthinkable for companies to associate themselves with the Ghana Armed Forces. Now, the companies are queueing. From the advertisers’ perspective, according to a liaison officer of one of these companies, ‘the Ghana Armed Forces are seen as credible nowadays. That is why we work with them’.63 Although the billboards64 are not placed around the capital city by the Ghanaian military but by companies adver-

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tising products, such as rental apartments and artwork, the Ghana Armed Forces benefits from these messages. That is why they allow the companies to place their billboards. It is clear that the Ghana Armed Forces endorses the messages that are broadcasted about them. Through the exposure, they are therefore directly and indirectly influencing the Ghanaian society and shaping the public opinion in their favour. The second instrument deployed in the militarization of Ghanaian society are services provided to society. The Ghana Armed Forces undertakes activities such as free medical outreach programmes, in which civilians are screened for high blood pressure and diabetes and soldiers donate blood to hospitals, and the 37 Military Hospital is opened to the civilian population.65 These services are beneficial to the civilian population, as healthcare is not accessible to many people in Ghana due to the high expenses associated with the service. Moreover, the Ghana Air Force conducts search and rescue missions in times of distress, and the Engineer Regiment collaborates with the National Disaster Management Organization (NADMO) to provide support to citizens during crises by, for example, building bridges and rescuing flood victims.66 Annually, foreign navies call at the Tema Harbour and are received by the Ghana

Figure 6.2. Billboard advertising civilian friendliness of the Ghana Armed Forces. Photo by the author.

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Armed Forces. The Ghanaian military in collaboration with these foreign navies undertakes joint outreach programmes for people from towns and villages surrounding this area.67 The provision of healthcare or the building of bridges by the military speaks to Enloe’s (2000: 3) argument that everything can be militarized – in this case, in order to influence public opinion and engineer a favourable public image of the Ghana Armed Forces. For such outreach programmes, soldiers appear in their uniform, which creates a particular image that is reproduced through mass media coverage. Ansah-Koi (2007: 195) asserts that the military is determined to engage with its host society and the civilian population. According to my interlocutors, engagement with the civilian population is not a recent phenomenon: In the past, during the Revolution, every quarter of the year, the military organized a route march. That was to show that we are there for the civilians’ security and peace but also to engage with the civilians. Communal labour was part of the route march, i.e. clean-up campaign. We tried to encourage the civilians in an area to clean their communities, hoping that they’ll join and rather do it themselves.68

Although engagement with civilians is not new, in the past these engagements occurred outside the barracks’ gates, in the communities and in the cities. The barracks remained shut off to outsiders. People who were invited to the barracks were those in some sort of trouble (Oquaye 2004). However, in the current efforts, the interactions occur both within and outside the barracks. My interlocutors note that this ‘social intertwining’ can be considered an act of civility (Elias 1982 [1939]: 319). This entails activities through which the population will perceive the military’s personnel as ‘civilized people’ – who do not brutalize civilians and are useful to society in times of duress. As, mentioned, an important instrument in this civilizing exercise is the organization of the Ghana Armed Forces Open Day (henceforth Open Day). This event takes place every year on 7 March, a public holiday and the day after Ghana’s Independence Day celebrations. The Ghanaian military on this day opens its doors and invites civilians into the barracks for various activities. People are encouraged to get close to the weaponry that the armed forces has at its disposal and are exposed to the tasks and functions of the military. This is ‘military tourism’ (Lutz 2001: 248), with people engaging in ‘war spectating’ (ibid.) as a pastime. Lutz (2001: 248) points out that, generally, militaries encourage the celebration of military prowess through witnessing war and ‘instruments of violence’ (First 1970: 6) at close range and through leisure experiences. Opening

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the doors to the general public marks a shift in the Ghanaian military’s attitude: In the past, it was frightening to enter Burma Camp. This has improved compared to, say, ten, twenty years ago. Civilians saw the military as people with whom you couldn’t interact. Now we are organizing Open Days. These events are changing the military’s image.69

Considering that Ghanaians in the past associated the military with fear, intimidation and abuse, on this day, civilians walk in and out of Burma Camp without fear. It is therefore no surprise that the Ghanaian military is nowadays considered mild; however – a word of caution – this is only because it has militarized society. Militarization is the mechanism through which society is made to consider the military as an institution that is civilian friendly. By providing healthcare or disaster relief, for instance, the favourable association that accompanies these deeds extends to the perception of the military institution as a whole. The following are my observations taken from my field notes of the Open Day of 2014 at Burma Camp in Accra (Figure 6.3), when I visited two units.

Figure 6.3. Advertisement for the Ghana Armed Forces Open Day. Photo by the author.

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7 March 2014. Today is the Ghana Armed Forces Open Day. There are activities all over the country, in cities such as Sunyani, Tamale, Takoradi, Sekondi, Tema and Accra. From the military stadium, El Wak Stadium, in Accra right down to the entrance of the barracks, Congo Junction, the road is choked with buses full of school children on their way to the Open Day. In the barracks, the stretch between Juba Villas and the Air Force Base has been cleared. Canopies have been placed here to offer school children who want to visit the Air Force Base shade. However, on this day, shade is not necessary, because it rained the previous day. The weather is cool and the sun is nowhere to be found. The ground is wet and muddy. There are tough-looking soldiers (wearing sunglasses, tight T-shirts, with flexed muscles and wielding canes) on duty, keeping the students in check. There is nervousness around the entrance to the Air Force Base, as it seems that if one was to step out of line, he will experience the wrath of the soldiers on duty. For security purposes, the soldiers interrogate everyone who wishes to enter the Air Force Base. I was unable to gain access to the Air Force Base due to the extremely long queue. Instead, I go to Recce Regiment, where scores of school children (in the age category of eleven to sixteen years old) and their teachers have queued. As they wait on the Regimental Square of Recce, i.e. Abugah Square, for their turn to ride in armoured personnel carriers and various armoured vehicles, more buses arrive with more students. The new arrivals have just been to the Air Force Base for a helicopter flight or a flight on an airplane. The students stand in neat queues; some chat with fellow students and the soldiers stand around. Students stroll off to admire the weaponry on display at the 64 Infantry Regiment, which shares Gondar Barracks with Recce. The students take a lot of pictures with soldiers and others take pictures holding weapons. Some students sit behind the steering wheels of armoured personnel carriers while taking ‘selfies’. Recce seems to be very popular among the students. The regiment was supposed to shut its doors at 13:30 but extended the admission due to the large number of people still in queues waiting to have their turn in the armoured vehicles. The soldiers had been instructed, I am told by an informant, to kindly talk to anyone interested in their work. The soldiers lectured students about their weapons and vehicles. In the end, everyone who visited the regiment was able to have a ride in the armoured vehicles.

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Figure 6.4. School children at the Ghana Armed Forces Open Day. Photo by the author.

At 5 Infantry Battalion (5 BN), a stone’s throw away from Recce, buses full of students have arrived here, too. However, the infantry regiment is not as popular as Recce or the Ghana Air Force. A soldier on sentry explains to me that this is because 5BN only possess ‘infantry arms’. That is ‘less sexy than helis [helicopters], planes and armoured vehicles mounted with big guns’. Nevertheless, the school children who have come to the Arakan Barracks listen attentively to the Corporals lecturing about their weapons on display. The school children were also treated to a static platoon demonstration. The soldiers were about to close their part of the Open Day when the following conversation ensued between a visitor and a soldier. ‘We fear you people,’ the visitor, a primary school teacher at 5BN’s Arakan Barracks, remarked to a soldier standing under a tree watching the proceedings. The Corporal who was demonstrating to the pupils accompanying the teacher how a rifle functions overheard her and tried to reassure her by stating, ‘We are like you, we have families, so don’t fear us.’ In the interactions between soldiers and civilians, I observe that fear seems to be a recurring theme.

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The school teacher was not the only attendant who expressed fear of the military. An older visitor expressed a similar view. The military has opened its doors to us, but it does not mean that some civilians have stopped being afraid of soldiers. When I was a young man, I was very afraid of soldiers. So even now, I cannot be comfortable around them. You see, with soldiers you never know when they are going to turn on you. You cannot completely trust them, even if they say they are your friend.70

The majority of the visitors to the Open Day are school children and students. According to my interlocutors, the Ghanaian military has purposely targeted this group, as it believes that civilians in their early twenties and above have already formed an opinion about the Ghana Armed Forces. Since the military establishment aims to engineer a favourable public image, its strategy is to target young school children and influence them ‘before others do’.71 However, despite this strategy and the effort put into the Open Day, most adult civilian visitors I spoke to were not entirely at ease in the barracks. I am here because my friends took me along. I, myself, I don’t like soldiers. Why I say that? Well, I know people who in the past were beaten by soldiers. My uncles have warned me against soldiers. They are wicked people – that is why they are soldiers, they said to me. I always watch out with them. I don’t trust them.72

Moreover, the military’s involvement in coups and the human rights violations suffered at the hands of the PNDC has not been forgotten by the older visitors. Two middle-aged men had come out of curiosity to see the barracks. We wanted to see Burma Camp and the notorious Gondar Barracks. In those days [during the Revolution] we heard terrible things happened here. People were drilled, some were beaten. This is a chance to see these places we used to hear so much about on the radio. The soldiers seem calm, but there is something unsettling about soldiers, don’t you think? They always seem to be on the edge, alert. They open up so that we will be less afraid of them.73

Despite the fear and apprehension, curiosity seems to drive older visitors to the Open Day. It is doubtful whether the military being less fenced off is reducing the fears of the older visitors and also whether these visitors are getting the military’s message of civilian friendliness. The civilian informants are curious about notorious places and point out that the Ghanaian military opens its doors to civilians in an attempt to take away their fear of the military. Green (1994: 227) notes that ‘fear is a subjective,

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personal experience that penetrates the social memory’. In the case of the middle-aged men, they had come to have a look at a place they and others fear – a place that has contributed to generating the poor image of the Ghanaian military due to atrocities perpetrated against people in some of these barracks. Despite the military’s effort to militarize society and engineer a favourable image, it is doubtful it will ever succeed in winning over everyone. That is because people collectively remember the events that have taken place within the barracks by military personnel. Fear is still deeply engrained (Green 1994) in the psyches of my interlocutors, preventing them from completely embracing the military. Fear, Green contends, is an emotion that generates suspicion and apprehension (ibid.). My informants, despite their curiosity to see Burma Camp and Gondar Barracks, keep a healthy distance from soldiers, who they find unsettling, edgy and unpredictable. Although the Ghanaian military has opened itself up to society, it has not yet succeeded in ridding memories of atrocities that the older civilians have. The military institution initiated its transformation process long before it started to reach out to the civilian population – long before it realized it even had to engage with Ghanaian society at large. In that sense, the military had been transforming the mindset, perceptions, views and thinking of its soldiers within the barracks long before it em-

Figure 6.5. Waiting in line to board an armoured vehicle at the Ghana Armed Forces Open Day. Photo by the author.

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barked on transforming civilian perceptions of the military. There is a lapse in experience. Perhaps the military has come to this realization and that is the reason why it is targeting school children and students. In my view, the Open Day represents a performance of openness. In this theatre piece, the Ghanaian military has set the stage for a performance in which its aim is to radiate professionalism by exhibiting some of its weaponry and training methods to the general public in attendance. On this stage, the Ghanaian military is the director of the play and determines what the general public is exposed to – what is visible and what is kept invisible. The soldiers on duty have been instructed how to behave, what to say and how to say it to those who have come to the Open Day. Bakhtin (1968: 160) reminds us that ‘there are no neutral and objective words’. Words have meaning, and those uttered by the soldiers appointed to partake in this performance are designed to have a particular effect on the visitors to the Open Day. In this performance, the sentences spoken by the soldiers seemed scripted (we are like you, don’t fear us etc.). They are aimed at portraying the Ghanaian military as a professional, civilian-friendly entity that is open to interaction and dialogue with the general population, giving civilians no reason to fear its members. What is on display to the visitor and what is kept out of sight (‘we cannot show them all our weapons’)74 is staged in an attempt to influence the opinions and perceptions of the visitor. The great majority of the adults I interacted with concurred that it was admirable that the military was making an effort to improve its public image and its relationship with the Ghanaian general public by being ‘less fenced off’ than it was in the past, but they expressed doubt as to whether this strategy and the staged openness were yielding results. In sum, I have presented the civilizing activities that the Ghanaian military undertakes in an effort to engineer a favourable image in the public imagination and improve civil–military relations. Civility is thus the vehicle through which the military aims to generate positive militarization. The Open Day, like other public relations activities, can be considered a civilizing activity because it is a vehicle through which the Ghanaian military aims to make a break from a past in which civilians were afraid to even come close to soldiers. A favourable public image has advantages for the military; for example, it can attract new and better recruits.

Soldiers’ Perspective After many years under military rule, Ghana since 1992 has been an electoral democracy (Agyeman-Duah 2002; Oquaye 2004), and the armed

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forces have widely embraced democracy. Considering soldiers’ preference for democracy, would a coup still be possible in present day Ghana? In this part, I look at Ghanaian soldiers’ perceptions of coups to assess how far the transformation process has come in the Ghanaian barracks. According to my informants, military operatives are no longer interested in coups. My interlocutors tell me that this is partly because soldiers prefer the predictability of everyday life and the stability of peace and possess a strong belief in the power of the thumb. There are also other reasons for the lack of interest in coups. An informant gave the following assessment: Coups have left soldiers’ minds. The reasons are numerous, but first of all, the number of ORs who benefitted from the past coups is negligible. They [ORs] have made the assessment and seen that coups haven’t benefitted them. Now they are thinking about educating their kids or building their future houses. If anyone has energy, he would rather invest it in his building site. Everybody is thinking about themselves. No one wants to die for someone else’s ambition. With the coups, soldiers became public enemies. But with improving civil military relations that gap is being bridged.75

The ORs are the ones who did the actual fighting in these coups and lost friends and colleagues in these ventures. Compared to the officers and other interested parties, such as bureaucrats and aspiring politicians, ORs did not benefit from the spoils of the coups. In line with AgyemanDuah (2002: 27), my informants note that the international community does not accept military interventions, let alone military rule anymore. Additionally, the media landscape is radically different from days gone by when coup makers had to take over the GBC. The media landscape in Ghana is burgeoning and rich in variety, with private media houses running radio stations, magazines and newspapers (ibid.; Gadzekpo 2008). In view of these factors, coups disappear into a dark past. Yet, a small majority of my military informants disagree with this perception. Some people say that coups are a thing of the past and that coups are out of fashion. I don’t agree at all with that view. Look at what happened recently in Egypt with General Al Sisi coming to power, or what happened in Thailand [a coup led by General Prayut Chan-o-cha, Commander of the Royal Thai Army], tell me that coups are never far away. It is always possible in Ghana too.76

There are a number of reasons why coups are generally considered less attractive currently. Institutionally, military interlocutors argue that nowadays they are more difficult to orchestrate and execute successfully. Even though coups are always possible in Ghana, progress has been made

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by the military and civil society organizations in sensitizing soldiers with regard to their role in society. Strides have also been made in the development and improvement of dialogue between the military and Ghanaian society at large. However, despite all efforts made by the military institution to professionalize, and the efforts made by the Ghanaian government to encourage civil–military intercourse, a coup, according to my military interlocutors, is always possible in Ghana. Additionally, the past involvement of the military institution in politics has led to the situation where the relationship between the military and society needs to be worked on constantly in Ghana. That has partly to do with the longue durée of experiences of violence and human rights abuses dating from the AFRC and Revolution rules, during which groups of people were stigmatized by this regime.

Towards a Conclusion The case of the Ghana Armed Forces as described above shows that initiating a transformation process is not enough. The process entails the transformation of core ideas like professionalism and civil–military relations; both very complex processes. Based on the previous chapters in which hierarchy, trust, discipline, education, boundary crossers and international exposure were treated in-depth, my assessment is that the transformation in the Ghanaian barracks has not come to a conclusion, and the question is whether it ever will. Transformation, professionalism and civil–military relations, in my view, are processes that are open-ended in nature. Professionalism has to be sustained through constant reproduction of the professional norms and standards the military institution expects its personnel to uphold. This is done through training and regular education of the troops. Likewise, the first steps have been taken by the military to improve the tense and strained relations between the military and its host society. Civil–military relations are processes in which, in my view, human relations are central. Civil–military relations require dialogue to be established and, like many relationships, demand regular and continuous conversation between military and civilian partners to generate mutual understanding for them to evolve and improve. The Ghana Armed Forces opening their doors to civilians is a way to reach out and be less fenced off from the population. Despite the suspicion, doubts and criticisms expressed about these intentions and the past of the Ghanaian military, the performance of openness has contributed to its aim of engineering and influencing public opinion positively.

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In this chapter I have presented the Ghana Armed Forces’ efforts to engineer a favourable image in the public imagination through civility. The activities explored are at first geared towards the barracks and then shift to engage with the world outside them. Actions within the barracks include the measures originated to restore military order, encourage trust, create the disciplined soldier subject and improve the professionalism of the military institution. That professionalism means a Ghanaian military that is completely focused on its task of providing national security to its citizens and maintaining an institution whose members have professional pride, adhere to the principles of civilian control and steer away from partisan politics. The Ghana Armed Forces, like many militaries around the world, is increasingly aware of the importance of public opinion and the public image of the military establishment. Incorporating 64 Infantry Regiment into the existing command structure of the Ghana Armed Forces shows that the Ghanaian military is committed to the kind of professionalism that can be exhibited to its members and audience alike. Civil activities emphasize public relations events like ‘meet the press’ or grant private companies permission to place billboards on the military’s terrain and at strategic places around town to display favourable messages about the military. The public relations activities are thus a means to portray the military as civilian friendly and to influence the general public. There are also activities explored by the military that are practical and useful, like the medical outreach programmes. Further, the military’s contribution to crisis management and relief efforts has generated goodwill among the Ghanaian general public. An assessment of the transformation process in the Ghanaian military barracks invites the question: is a coup possible in Ghana today? The necessary steps for improving the professionalism of the Ghanaian military have been taken. There will be moments of transgression, in which the military operatives may, for example, assault civilians. These soldiers will then have to be punished and reminded of the professional standard the military expects from its members. However, transgressions call for an open dialogue to iron out the folds and continue building and strengthening the civil–military relationship. In the end, a coup is always possible, but it would be much more difficult to orchestrate and execute due to the changing local, national and international circumstances, and due to the disciplined soldier subject, who is not only better educated but has also had more international exposure to different professional norms than his predecessors, while his continuous re-subjection makes him more susceptible to the transformation process compared to his predecessors.

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NOTES 1. Interview with Lieutenant Colonel D.L., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (8 June 2014). 2. Ibid. 3. Interview with General A. (rtd), Accra, Ghana (1 May 2014). 4. Interview with Major A. (rtd), Accra, Ghana (24 April 2014). 5. Interview with Lieutenant Colonel O., Michel Camp, Tema, Accra, Ghana (13 May 2014). 6. Interview with Wing Commander E. (rtd), Teshie, Accra, Ghana (8 September 2014). 7. This man is currently a well-respected elder of his community, and for privacy reasons, I will not be providing any information that would jeopardize his reputation. He was a Private Soldier at the time of the 1978 and 1979 coups. 8. Interview with Warrant Officer Class I R., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (8 April 2014). 9. Interview with Warrant Officer Class I K., Michel Camp, Tema, Accra (5 May 2014). 10. Interview with Warrant Officer Class I G., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (30 April 2014). 11. Ibid. 12. Ibid. 13. Focus Group with Sergeants. Sergeant D., Burma Camp, Accra Ghana (4 April 2014). 14. Ibid. 15. Interview with General A. (rtd), Accra, Ghana (1 May 2014). 16. Interview with Warrant Officer Class I A., Michel Camp, Tema, Accra, Ghana (15 May 2014). 17. Ibid. 18. Interview with Generals Q. (rtd) and B. (rtd), Accra, Ghana (respectively on 14 February and 9 April 2014). 19. Interview with Lieutenant Colonel O., Accra, Ghana (12 February 2014). 20. Informal conversation with Staff Sergeant T., Burma Camp, Accra (6 April 2014). 21. Interview with Lieutenant A., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (9 April 2014). 22. Interview with ex-Warrant Officer Class I., Accra, Ghana (5 December 2014). 23. Ibid. 24. Ibid. 25. Interview with ex-Warrant Officer Class I A., Accra, Ghana (5 December 2014). 26. Interview with Lieutenant Colonel D., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (14 September 2014).

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27. Interview with Lieutenant Colonel L.D., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (8 June 2014). 28. Interview with Brigadier General A. (rtd), Accra, Ghana (8 January 2014). 29. Interview with Warrant Officer Class II, Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (29 April 2014). 30. Ibid. 31. Interview with Brigadier General W. (rtd), Accra, Ghana (27 November 2014). 32. Interview with B. I choose not to provide more information to protect the privacy of the informant. 33. Interview with H. I choose here not to provide more information to protect the privacy of the informant. There are other SNCOs at the unit who have spoken confidentially about these issues, but due to the extreme sensitivity of the matter, I cannot disclose much more. 34. Ibid. 35. Ibid. 36. Interview with Lieutenant Colonel, Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (8 June 2014). 37. Ibid. 38. Interview with Lieutenant Colonel, Teshie, Accra, Ghana (9 June 2014). 39. Informal conversation with a soldier from the unit, Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (11 May 2014). 40. Ibid. 41. Interview with a Major, Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (14 October 2014). 42. Ibid. 43. Ibid. 44. Interview with Lieutenant Colonel, Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (8 June 2014). 45. Ibid. 46. Informal conversation with a soldier from the unit. Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (11 May 2014). 47. Interview with a Major, Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (14 October 2014). 48. Interview with an officer, Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (7 March 2014). 49. In the Revolution days these guys were very well trained. The only problem was that some of these soldiers did not have a service or regimental number. They fell under the minister of Interior and the Ministry of Defence. After 1992 they were converted and given a regimental number. Excerpt from an interview with K. (3 September 2014). 50. Informal conversation with an SNCO at the unit, Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (7 March 2014). 51. Informal conversation with Lieutenant Colonel Y.-M., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (23 March 2014). 52. Ibid. 53. Ibid.

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54. Informal conversations with various soldiers between March and October 2014. 55. Interview with General Q-A., Accra, Ghana (15 October 2014). 56. Interview with an anonymous person, Accra, Ghana (21 September 2014). 57. Interview with an intellectual, Accra, Ghana (8 September 2014). 58. Interview with Colonel A. (rtd) and an anonymous politician, Accra, Ghana (20 November 2014). 59. Interview with General E (rtd), Accra, Ghana (4 September 2014). 60. Informal conversation with a labourer, Tema, Accra, Ghana (17 May 2014). 61. Interview with Major A., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (7 March 2014). 62. Informal conversation with Warrant Officer Class I, Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (21 November 2014). 63. Telephone conversation with liaison officer of private company that advertises on Ghana Armed Forces territory. Accra, Ghana (22 November 2014). 64. It must be noted that this practice of endorsed advertisement is nothing particular to the Ghana Armed Forces, as, among others, the Ghana Police Service, the Tema Municipality and the National Commission for Civic Education undertake such ventures as well. 65. Interview with Wing Commander E. (rtd), Teshie, Accra, Ghana (20 September 2014). 66. Ibid. 67. Ibid. 68. Ibid. 69. Interview with Lieutenant Colonel D., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (21 September 2014). 70. Informal conversation with a Mr B., civilian visitor to Open Day, Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (7 March 2014). 71. Informal conversation with Major A., Arakan Barracks, Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (7 March 2014). 72. Informal conversation with a young man, Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (7 March 2014). 73. Informal conversation with two middle-aged men, Gondar Barracks, Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (7 March 2014). 74. Informal conversation with a Warrant Officer Class II, Gondar Barracks, Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (7 March 2014). 75. Ibid. 76. Interview with Colonel D.A., Burma Camp, Accra, Ghana (3 November 2014).

✫ CONCLUSIO N

ost-independence African militaries, including the Ghana Armed Forces, were known for their orchestration of coups and power seizures, especially between the 60s and early 90s. In that period, the Ghana Armed Forces experienced at first hand the implications of political interventions on their structures. Moreover, the coup did not help their already compromised public image. As I have shown throughout this book, the crumbling structures and the poor public perception of the military did not sit well with the leadership of the Ghana Armed Forces, and especially the military regime of the PNDC. The PNDC under Rawlings’ chairmanship embarked on the transformation process that has shaped the Ghana Armed Forces to this day. Although divisive, Rawlings remains a very influential political figure both in and outside the Ghanaian barracks, and together with the controversial General Quainoo, he is credited for the resuscitation of the Ghanaian military. This begs the question of what would have become of the Ghana Armed Forces had Rawlings not intervened. Recently, there has been a surge in coups in countries such as Guinea, Mali, Guinea-Bissau and Burkina Faso. In this book, I sought to understand how the Ghana Armed Forces despite the resurgence of coups in the West African region have managed to steer away from these activities. Additionally, I asked: how are armed forces transformed after a breakdown of everydayness and military order from institutions responsible for societal unrest to stable, social institutions? Which factors and conditions have contributed to this transformation? What roles do ‘civility’ and ‘professionalism’ play in the ongoing transformation process? But also how do soldiers experience the transformation process? To answer these questions, the various measures taken by the Ghanaian military have been treated in-depth in the preceding chapters. One measure that deserves to be highlighted due to its impact on the transformation process is the initiation and implementation of the so-called ‘human face philosophy’, a human-centred approach to managing the military institution. This approach has been foundational in steering the

P

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military away from its previous colonial approach associated with the ‘Buga-Buga’ soldier and characterized as one-size-fits-all, rough-edged and heavy-handed. Although some in the barracks have categorized the human-centred approach as soft, this new approach is at the base of human interactions within the barracks, leading to the regular reinvention and renegotiations of existing conventions while keeping the military in the barracks. Military institutions are human institutions. For the Ghana Armed Forces to be transformed, not only did the previous structure have to be reinstated but the norms associated with hierarchy and authority had to be dramatically performed for reaffirmation in order to trigger the necessary predictable behaviour within the barracks. Another important element in restoring military order was the military leadership’s appeal to soldierly values, with commanders reminding their men that a soldier is guided by rules and regulations; he always operates under the authority of a superior and respects the rank. Trust is an important element in human interactions as it holds relations together. In the Ghanaian barracks, hierarchy and trust are intimately related, as hierarchy produces predictable behaviour, which in turn generates trust. The creation of the disciplined soldier subject is an import trope in the transformation process of the Ghana Armed Forces as well. Discipline in the barracks was strengthened when the military institution began emphasizing formal disciplinary structures, such as with the Armed Forces Regulations Volume Two, while peer disciplining also contributed to strengthening discipline in the military. Additionally, the introduction of the discourse of ‘doing the right thing’ put the disciplined soldier subject on route to embracing and adhering to military values. Unlike soldiers of the past, the disciplined soldier subject stays away from coups because that is not the ‘right thing’ to do. Furthermore, in the slipstream of the creation of the disciplined soldier subject, and as a result of the messiness of the transformation process, new types of soldiers emerged in the Ghanaian barracks. The emergence of these new characters marks a departure from the rough antics of the Buga-Buga soldier. The new actors are also changing, shaping and challenging the social conventions in the barracks through their use of new technological devices. Technological innovations have created a generational gap between the Old Soldier and these new players in the barracks. Despite the connectivity generated by ICT and other technological devices, the distance between these two groups is not being bridged but is rather expanding. The young soldier is closer to the world outside the barracks, through his mobile phone, than he is to the Old Soldier. The connection of the young soldier to the outside world invites the influence of the outside world into the barracks,

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and the outside in turn is influenced by the barracks – i.e. militarization. Additionally, the new actors in the barracks challenge the existing status quo and thereby force existing conventions to be re-examined and, where necessary, reinvented. The introduction of the discourse of the need to ‘get educated’ by the military leadership and the deployment of Ghanaian soldiers on peacekeeping missions are factors that have contributed to the transformation of the Ghanaian military and steered the institution away from coups. Due to education and military education, Ghanaian soldiers’ attitudes and mentality have been transformed, as they have a better understanding of their role in society. Boundary crossers, as I have argued, play an important role in this transformation process. Boundary crossers are products of their era. In the period when organizing coups was fashionable, some who commissioned from the Ghanaian Royal Military Academy Sandhurst engaged in coups. Now in the international military arena, there are new discourses, norms, values and ways of doing things that are learned by boundary crossers and then injected into the Ghanaian military system upon return to their native environment. Boundary crossers thus contribute to changing the perceptions of their peers and colleagues but also to transforming the Ghana Armed Forces from a coup-prone force that is the source of much societal unrest to an institution of social stability. Through daily interactions, training and exercises, among other things, the new perceptions and ideas gradually take root and become the norm in the barracks. The peacekeeper, like the boundary crosser, learns on peacekeeping missions. Perhaps the most important lesson the peacekeeper learns is the importance of peace and the effort it takes to achieve and maintain it; the military should strive for peaceful solutions to issues that could potentially lead to open conflict in Ghana. He also learns that he should not use his military skills in the service and defence of any other entity other than the Ghanaian state that trains and equips him. In addition, apart from coups not being the ‘right thing’ to do, ORs have realized that coups have not been beneficial to them but to officers, bureaucrats and civilians. As a result of the new emphasis on education by the military leadership, soldiers are focused on working towards life after service. The focus on life after military service is diverting their attention from national politics and channelling it towards the future. Due to the transformation process, the Ghanaian military is engineering a different mindset in the barracks. Education, boundary crossers and peacekeeping all play a significant role in transforming the Ghana Armed Forces. The Ghanaian military, like many military institutions around the world, is conscious of the importance of public opinion and thus undertakes acts

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of civility such as providing disaster relief to garner societal support. The Ghana Armed Forces also consciously undertakes efforts to influence society through the media. These activities generate trust because the military is perceived by the public as organized with well-behaved soldiers. Transformation, in my view, cannot be viewed as a linear process but rather as a messy process in which ruptures or setbacks can occur, such as Ghanaian politicians gradually injecting security services – such as the Police Service, Ghana Immigration Service and the Ghana Armed Forces – with their foot soldiers in an attempt to gain a foothold in these institutions. Professionalism has to be sustained through constant reproduction of the professional norms and standards the military institution expects its personnel to uphold, through training and regular education of the troops. The open-ended process also requires continuous dialogue between the military and its civilian partners to generate mutual trust and understanding. To foster trust and understanding, the Ghanaian military in its transformation process has somewhat opened up to engage in dialogue with the civilian population. By opening its doors and reaching out to the civilian population, the Ghanaian military has become less fenced off from the outside world. The purpose of transforming the military and steering it away from engaging in coups is to improve existing civil–military relations and engineer a favourable public image. The Ghanaian military’s acts of civility such as donating blood, rescuing flood victims, building bridges and organizing Open Days have contributed to generating goodwill among the Ghanaian general public. However, a favourable public perception is only sustainable as long as the public considers the military to be trustworthy and views it as an armed force with a high level of professionalism. For the Ghana Armed Forces to uphold this positive image, it must refrain from engaging in politics, coups and abusing civilians. When a soldier assaults a civilian, he is punished by the military so that the professionalism of the institution is reinforced. The point is that the Ghana Armed Forces are broadcasting that times have changed and that soldiers now, unlike in the past, do not get away with abuse. Despite the steps taken in the transformation process in the Ghanaian barracks, there are areas of concern. The quality of the personnel and the professional standards of the Ghanaian military are being undercut due to current recruitment practices. Big men like politicians, senior officers and senior civil servants are recruiting those on the so-called protocol list. These practices will have to be halted if the Ghanaian military is to keep its high quality personnel and its level of professionalism and meet

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the Ghanaian general public’s expectations of professionalism. Some in the barracks predict that if the practice of infusing the military system with foot soldiers of political parties continues, in the future there will be a split within the rank and file – with one part of the military belonging to one party while the other part supports a rival party. In sum, the Ghana case illustrates that transformation, professionalism, civility and civil–military relations must be viewed as processes rather than finished products. During processes, occasionally something goes wrong; for instance, when soldiers leave the barracks and get involved in fracases with civilians, this does not mean that the whole transformation process has failed. It simply means there is a rupture in the process. This disruptive element can be ironed out for the process to continue. A setback is not the end of the process. Despite the ruptures in the non-linear process of transforming the Ghanaian military, the Ghana Armed Forces have moved away from a rough-edged, heavy-handed and sometimes violent one-size-fits-all approach to a human-centred approach and in the process steered away from staging coups. The transformation process is still ongoing; although encouraging steps have been taken over the years, a lot more remains to be done.

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. I N DEX

3 Battalion Infantry (3BN), 184 4 Battalion Infantry (4BN), 184 4 February 1982, 24, 72 4 June 1979, 3, 19, 20, 181 5 Infantry Battalion (5 BN), 199 5 July 1978, 3 13 February 1972, 2 15 May 1979, 20 24 February 1966, 2 24 September 1979, 4, 21 31 December 1981, 4, 19, 22–26, 163, 181 37 Military Hospital, 190, 194, 195 66 Artillery Regiment, 184 A Abboud, General Ibrahim, 5 Abongo people, 173 academic credentials, 138, 142 academic prowess, 142 Academy Sergeant Major (ASM), 82, 86 Accra, 11, 20 Accra Hearts of Oak, 36 Acheampong, Colonel I.K., 2 Adjutant, 11, 14, 63, 64, 71 Administration Block, 13, 56, 57, 92 administrative control, 30, 181 Africa Contingency Operations Training and Assistance (ACOTA), 153, 162 African countries, 157 African soldiers and armed forces, 5

age limit, 143 Air Force Base, 198–199 Airborne Force (ABF), 70–71 Akata Pore, 28, 32 Akuffo, Lieutenant General Frederick, 3 Al Sisi, General, 203 Algeria, 181 ambivalent relationship, 107 amorous entanglements, 121 anodized badge, 49 anti-coup unit, 185 antics, 83, 106, 210; rough, 106 antipolitics, 7 anxiety disorders, 5 Anyigbe, Fred, 104 Arakan Barracks, 199 arbiter, 148 Armed Forces Defence Committees (AFDCs), 26–30 Armed Forces Revolutionary Council (AFRC), 4, 20–23, 188, 204 armed thugs, 7 armoured personnel carriers, 77, 198 Armoured Reconnaissance Regiment (Recce), 22, 57, 58, 61, 70, 146, 198 artillery, 154, 160, 182 aspiring politicians, 203 assassinations, 19, 66 authority, 109, 111, 121, 141, 174–181, 210

228

INDEX

B bachelor’s degree, 140 Bangladeshi, 161 Bannor and Ajavon, Commanders, 24 Barracks Boys, 118–120, 125–135 Base coxswain, 15, 24, 66 Base Ordinance Depot (BOD), 194 Base Sergeant Major (air force), 58 Battalion Square, 25 Battle Fitness Test (BFT), 88 battlefield, 5 Beacon of democracy, 9; democracy, 106, 108, 175, 193, 202–203 beginning of the 1980s and 1990s, 158 belts, 49, 92 Benin, 1 big life festivities, 69 big men, 115–118, 121–124, 212 billboards, 194, 205 blood stains, 24 Boadi, Adjei, 29, 32 Board, 90–91 bodily integrity, 126 body, 179; body and mind, 157 body discipline, 85–89 Border Guards, 35 bottlenecks, 38, 154 boundary crossers, 9, 137, 150–155, 164, 170, 204, 211–219 bounded parameters, 45 bounded setting, 10 breakdown in communication, 20 breakdown of everydayness, 20–31, 44, 48, 59, 66, 71, 73, 80, 90, 99, 102, 107, 120, 137, 145, 173, 209 breakdown of hierarchy, 43 British military, 154 British model, 153; British training methods, 7, 155 British soldier, 7; British colonial commanders, 106 brute, 7, 105, 173

budget constraints, 158 Buga-Buga, 210 Buga-Buga Soldiers, 102, 105–129, 139, 141, 144, 148, 162, 172, 191, 210; Buga-Buga nostalgia, 104 Bugashi, 105 building bridges, 195, 212 bullets, 159 bullying of civilians, 174 Bureau of National Investigation, 20 bureaucracies, 43 bureaucrats, 203 Burkina Faso, 1, 209 Burma Camp, 11, 51, 177, 182, 197, 200–201 Burma Hall, 52, 178 Busia, Dr Kofi, 2, 3 Business Administration, 139, 142 C cadet training, 154 Cadet’s Mess, 82 Camara, Captain Moussa Dadis, 1 career advancement courses, 130, 137, 147, 150, 154 carnage and atrocities, 158–160; atrocities, 158, 201 ceasefire monitoring, 161 chain of command, 26, 32, 45, 51, 58, 73 chain of discipline, 90 change processes, 6 Chan-o-cha, General Prayut, 203 checkpoint, 24 chessmen, 22 Chief Clerk, 14, 22 Chief of Air Staff (CAS), 46 Chief of Army Staff (COAS), 46 Chief of Defence Staff (CDS), 21, 46, 176, 192 Chief of Naval Staff (CNS), 46 Chief Warrant Officer (CWO), 50 Christiansborg Castle, 30, 184 Civil Defence Organization, 29

INDEX

civilian control, 6, 174, 176–179, 189, 205 civilian friendly, 18, 194, 197, 202, 205 civilian population, 4, 7, 19, 147, 158, 173, 187, 190, 195, 201, 212 civilian unfriendly, 173 civility, 9, 16, 18, 170, 171, 188, 193, 194, 202, 205, 209, 212; civilizing process, 171 civil–military relations, 6, 16, 18, 170–175, 187–196, 202, 204, 211–214 codes of conduct, 93, 99, 104, 108, 141, 157, 165 coins, 163 collaboration and collectivism, 155 colonial armed bodies, 5 colonial legacy, 19, 172, 174 colonial territories, 172 colonial ties, 154 colonizers, 7, 106, 172 combat, 8, 120–125, 156–157 command and control structure, 172 Commander-in-Chief, 51, 177 commanders, 93, 96, 98, 109, 139, 146 Commanding Officers (COs), 26 commandos, 29, 181, 188 commission, 33, 38, 55, 140, 151 commitment, 93, 155, 174 Commonwealth, 154 communal labour, 196 communication devices, 123 communitarian society, 155 Compaoré, President Blaise, 1 complex configuration of opinions, 126; public opinion, 187 complex information, 144, 148 complicated endeavour, 123 the Computer/Internet Soldier, 11–114, 119, 120, 122, 129 computers, 111, 113, 123 confidential report, 71

229

conflict-generating activities, 159 confrontations, 8, 113, 129 Congo, 5, 157, 158, 180 constitution, 72, 148, 177 contaminated water, 159 Conté, Lansana, 1 continual subjection, 137, 162–167 continuous concessions, 3 contract, 148 conventional rules of the military, 21 conventional warfare, 154 conventions, 25, 81, 83, 103, 113, 118 Cook House, 117 cordial, 72, 119, 191 Corporals, 61 corporateness, 174 counter perspectives, 122 counter-insurgency, 154 counterterrorism, 153 country, 155–160 coups, 1, 5, 9, 15; coups of 1966, 1972, and 1978, 15; coups of 1979 and 1981, 25; coup of 31 December 1981, 22 coup makers, 2, 18, 31, 107, 156, 168, 178, 203 courage, 50, 52, 93, 179 court martials, 32 coward soldier, 123 credibility, 173, 193 crisis management and relief efforts, 205 crisis of political authority, 21 critical events, 2, 16, 19, 20, 24, 34, 43, 66, 80, 113, 161, 170, 177 critics, 83; criticism, 125 cross-fertilization of ideas, 125–149 Cuba, 29, 181 culture of outward appeasement, 86 culture of silence, 4, 188 D dance, 87 dangerous, 7, 141

230

INDEX

death, 1, 28, 143, 159 debt collectors, 8 deceit, 98 Defence Administrative Committee (DAC), 37 defence policy, 149 Defence Staff Committee (DSC), 37 defender, 18, 147 delay tactics, 56 deliberate attempt, 2 deliberate imitation, 8, 153 democratic rules, 2 democratically elected civilian government, 176 dented corporate interests, 2 deployment, 181 depression, 5 deprived background, 106, 112 devastations of war, 159 dialogue, 26, 83, 97, 144, 146, 187, 202, 212 dicey issue, 121 Directorate of Personnel Administration (DPA), 71 Directorate of Public Relations (DPR), 11 disband, 183 discipleship, 93–94 disciplinary codes, 38 disciplinary codes of conduct, 104 disciplined soldier subject, 2, 17, 81– 110, 113, 120, 128, 129, 137–140, 141–165, 177, 193, 205, 210 disseminating ideas, 152 distrust, 11, 28, 72, 191 divers, 181 doing the right thing, 2, 17, 81, 92–100, 210 domesticating, 186 donating blood, 212 double, 87 drafting the constitution of the Third Republic, 3, 4 drill, 87–90

Drill Square, 87; Regimental Square, 104, 109 dynamics of change, 102 E echoes, 80 economics, 139 education, 9, 17, 29, 106, 109, 110, 137–140 educational level, 109, 110, 144–147, 159 Eisenhower, Dwight, 69 El Wak Stadium, 198 elite, 32; political elite, 162, 192; elitist, 2 embodiment, 14, 90, 94 engineering, 6, 171, 180, 187, 193, 204, 211 environmental degradation, 146 envy, 31, 35, 125, 182 e-recruitment platform, 112 e-recruitment system, 119 esprit de corps, 70, 72, 90 Euro-American (and Australian) ideal of professionalism, 7 everyday practices of soldiering in an African context, 2, 6; soldiering, 14, 16, 44, 67, 81, 107, 119, 120, 143, 156, 165, 176 everydayness, 5, 17, 19, 24, 25–32, 43, 44, 48, 60, 67, 71, 73, 80, 83, 85, 90, 99, 107, 120, 129, 137, 145, 170, 173, 187, 209; rebuilding of everydayness, 83 everydayness of hierarchy, 73; restoration of hierarchy, 66 evil, 176 evolving ecology, 102, 113 ex-Boys, 35, 37 excessive connections, 116 execute transformations, 6 executive curl, 50 expertise, 64, 83, 109, 125, 146 extra income, 157

INDEX

F failed attempted coups, 170 fall of communism, 5 fall out, 57 familiarization, 81 family house, 112, 123; family home, 123 family issues, 68 father, 57–59 favourable public perception, 6, 59, 176, 212 fear, 27, 36, 73, 104, 106, 116, 118, 122, 144, 188, 197, 200–212 female soldiers, 120–128 fenced off, 10, 115, 193, 200, 202, 204, 212 fighting rebel forces, 161 filter out, 197 First and Second World Wars, 150 flexible attitude, 109–110 Force Reserve Battalion (FRB), 29, 31, 109 Force Sergeant Major (FSM), 63–64, 95 Forces Reserve Battalion (FRB), 50, 72 foreign exposure, 154; international exposure, 170, 204, 205 formal, 210 formal instruments, 81 formalized structures, 156 former Heads of State, 4 Fourth Republic, 108, 177, 188 funerals, 65 future planning, 163 future prosecution, 3 G Games, 88 gender inequality, 127–128 General Headquarters (GHQ) of the Ghana Armed Forces, 12, 51 generational gap, 110, 116, 128–129, 210 gentlemen, 52, 156

231

Ghana, 1, 2, 20, 106, 108, 156, 160, 177, 179, 203 Ghana Armed Forces, 2–30, 50, 205–213; DNA of the Ghana Armed Forces, 108, 111 ‘Ghana Armed Forces Civilian Friendly’, 194 Ghana Armed Forces Command and Staff College (GAFCSC), 137, 142, 147 Ghana Armed Forces Open Day, 193, 197–202 Ghana Armed Forces Regulations, 34, 55, 81, 90, 210 Ghana Broadcasting Corporation, 20 Ghana Defence Policy, 149, 157, 177, 189 Ghana Immigration Service, 212 Ghana Institute of Management and Public Administration (GIMPA), 147 Ghana Military Academy (GMA), 11, 48, 82, 189 Ghana Military Academy and Training School (MATS), 11, 189 Ghana Navy, 25, 51, 192 Ghanaian general public, 162, 173, 186, 188, 202, 205, 212 Ghanaian media landscape, 147 global military arena, 8 Global North, 5, 7 globalized world, 153 globe, 6, 157 Gold Coast colonial soldier, 8 Gold Coast Constabulary (GCC), 172 Gold Coast Regiment, 150 Gondar Barracks, 60, 182, 198, 200–202 gorget patches, 49–53 goro (cola nut), 104 grand entrance, 5 greener pastures, 160 guardrooms, 25 Guinea, 1, 209 Guinea-Bissau, 1, 209

232

INDEX

H harsh circumstances of war, 159 headgear (caps/berets), 49 healthcare, 190–192 healthy distance, 192, 201 heavy-handed, 83, 106, 108, 210, 213 hierarchical arrangements, 43–56, 92 hierarchical pecking order, 49 hierarchical relations, 7, 73 hierarchy, 16, 26, 28, 31, 35, 43–64, 90, 92, 119, 141, 171, 191, 204, 210 hierarchy and trust, 16, 43, 73 high blood pressure and diabetes, 195 high inflation, 3 higher political and military positions, 114–115 hit squads, 7 home, 56, 95, 123 hostile environment, 23 house rules, 81–83, 86 house-cleaning exercise, 4, 20–24 Hughes, Fleet Chief Petty Officer, 24 human element, 6, 137 human face philosophy, 16, 17, 39, 83, 91, 108, 109, 145, 209 human institute with a human face, 83 human institution, 45, 65, 129, 130, 210 human perspectives, 45 human rights, 9, 39, 83, 110, 150 human rights violations, 7, 8, 19, 107, 174, 176, 188, 193, 200, 204 humanitarian aid, 161 I identity marker, 48, 156, 157 illiterate, 106, 140 image of civilian friendliness, 108 imposed discipline, 81–85 incorporation of 64 Infantry Regiment, 171; 64 Infantry

Regiment, 29, 30, 172, 180–188, 198, 205 indemnify, 3 Independence Day celebrations, 196 India, 150–161 indiscipline, 21, 38, 96, 98, 104, 121; stubborn and indisciplined, 125 individualism, 155 infantry arms, 199 infantry soldier, 7 ‘Infield Training’, 162 influential backers, 110, 115, 117, 122, 124 influential families, 124 informal forms of punishment, 81 informed knowledge, 146 infuse, 155 Inspector General of Police (IGP), 46 institutional measures, 2 institutionalized life, 44 instructions, 30, 58, 94, 144 insurgency, 1, 156 integrity, 43, 58, 97, 179 intelligence agents, 157, 168 internal security assignments, 7, 22, 172 internalized practices, 99 international affairs, 152 international community, 9, 162, 165 international military arena, 8, 137, 150, 155, 177, 211 international military institutions, 153 international military peers, 165 international norms, 153, 154, 165 international peace and security, 157 international peacekeeping missions, 165 international relations, 146 international security discourse, 9 international soldiering norms, 165 international training courses, 9; professional training, 93; training regimes, 7, 105 intimate entanglements, 120

INDEX

intimidation, 4, 107, 110, 147, 197 intrusion into politics, 6 invincibility, 108 Iraq and Afghanistan, 5 Israel, 158; Israeli army, 120 J joint venture coup, 3 judiciary system, 90 June 4th Uprising, 20 Junior Leaders’ Company, 35, 37, 118; Boys’ Company, 35, 118 junior military operatives, 117 junior ratings, 50, 144 K Kenya, 7 killings, 24, 67, 72, 170 Kinship, 56, 119; kinship ties, 125 Kofi Annan International Peacekeeping Training Centre (KAIPTC), 137, 149 Kufuor, Dr Addo, 178 Kufuor, President John, 178, 185, 189 Kumasi Asanti Kotoko, 36 L lack of respect, 21, 109, 178 lack of solidarity, 127 Lance Corporals, 61, 117, 181 lanyards, 49 laptops, 111, 123 lasie lasie, 56 Latin America, 5 lawlessness, 28 leadership and management, 152 Lebanon, 157–158 legislative and oversight responsibilities, 177 Liberation Barracks, 25 Liberia, 61, 157, 158, 160 Libya, 29, 181; Libya and Cuba, 29 life after service, 143, 156, 211 Limann, Dr Hilla 4, 21

233

little support, 25 lived practice, 6, 11, 14, 59 local context, 155 local level, 115 long-term plans, 163 Lord Nelson’s curl, 50 low ranking soldier, 114 low wages, 3 loyalty, 29, 43, 51–53, 65, 96–98, 106 M maintenance of discipline, 26 Makola market, 48, 173 Mali, 1, 157, 209 maltreatment, 20 manipulate, 107, 128 manpower, 163 marketable, 138, 143 martial, 7, 32; martial race, 106 mass communication, 6 mass media coverage, 196 massacre, 24 Master Warrant Officer (MWO), 50 master’s and PhD degrees, 138; master’s degree, 139, 140 material cultural attributes, 43, 50, 52, 53 meagre wages, 158 media landscape, 147, 203 medical examination, 112 medical outreach programmes, 9, 195, 205 memory and history, 105 Mensah-Wood, General Winston, 38, 39, 83 mental health issues, 5 Mess, 82 messy exercise, 102 Middle East, 158 militarization, 187–189, 194, 202, 211; militarization process, 194 military anthropology, 10 military body, 7, 87 military chain of command, 26, 32

234

INDEX

military command structure, 184, 186 military court, 20 military diffusion, 8, 151, 154, 156, 162 military disciple, 94–95 military durbars, 74 military emulation, 8, 9, 153, 156, 162, 164, 170 military etiquette, 13, 30, 47, 49, 52, 53, 63, 74, 99 military expenditure, 162 military high command, 71, 148 military institution, 9, 11, 25, 44, 47, 51, 80, 162, 188, 192, 201–205, 212 military interventions, 2, 7, 19, 203 military order, 2, 16, 19, 20, 25, 27, 29, 31–45, 60, 67, 71, 73, 79, 81, 83–90, 92, 99, 102, 105, 109, 113, 120, 129, 137, 145, 170, 173, 187, 205, 209, 210 military prowess, 35, 114, 122, 196 military service, 25, 33, 54, 67, 106, 150, 211; temporal nature of military service, 143 military system, 8, 33, 38, 49, 53, 97, 113, 125, 129, 142, 153, 155, 211–213 military tourism, 196 military way of life, 95, 98 military within the military, 180, 182, 184 military’s budget, 3 minimalistic, 117 minimum entry requirement, 140 Minister for Defence, 46, 177 Ministry of Defence (MOD), 37, 149, 176 mistrust, 44, 72, 111, 146 mobility, 15, 122; social mobility, 138 Mobisquads, 29 Mobutu, General Sese Seko, 5 Mobutu Sese Seko’s Division Speciale Presidentielle, 180

modern, 111, 113, 123; modern weapons, 139 monitor, 10, 84, 85, 156 monkeys play by sizes, 43, 45 moral authority, 176 moral parameters, 173 mother, 57–59 multi-locale, 16 multipliers, 9 murders, 24–25 Musa, Baba, 104 Muster Parade, 104, 107 mutiny, 1, 20–25, 36, 107, 181 N National Democratic Congress (NDC), 177 National Disaster Management Organization (NADMO), 195 National Liberation Council (NLC), 2 National Redemption Council/ Supreme Military Council (NRC/ SMC I), 2–4 national symbol, 190 Navy Seals, 185 negotiate, 11, 24, 144, 146; negotiations, 14, 83, 210 network, 17, 114, 128 new actors, 102, 124, 128, 129, 210 new armed forces of postindependence African states, 5 new environment, 82, 102, 105 new generation, 103, 126 new ideas, 152, 154, 164 new kids on the block, 130 New Patriotic Party (NPP), 178, 189 new players, 128–130, 210 new regime, 29, 123 new types of soldiers, 102–106; 110, 116, 122, 125, 128–130 new tactics and knowledge, 161 new weapon systems, 161 new-found self-confidence, 21 Nigeria, 1, 180

INDEX

night duties, 127 Nkrumah, Dr Kwame, 2, 157, 180 Nkrumah’s President’s Own Guard Regiment, 180 no democracy, 106 No 1 Service Dress, 49 No 2 Service Dress, 49 non-linear, 102; non-linear process, 213 no-nonsense attitude, 108 non-soldierly tasks, 23 non-state actors, 6, 159 North Atlantic soldier, 7 Northern Territories, 106 North-South divide, 11 nostalgic figures, 104; nostalgic, 17, 104, 105, 116, 128; historical figure, 105 Nunoo-Mensah, Brigadier, 21 O oath, 148, 174 Obeng, Lieutenant General Seth, 176 obey before complain, 26, 145 objects, 87, 115, 154 officer cadet, 69, 82, 150–155 Officer Commanding (OC), 58–59 officer corps, 7, 25, 44, 52, 120, 140, 163 officer’s authority and legitimacy, 27 officer–OR relationships, 64 official military gatherings, 47, 119 old man/oluman/akokura/opanyin, 59–60 Old Soldier, 102–141, 210 openness, 193, 202–204 Operation Calm Life, 190 operational control, 30, 181 orders, 25–30, 145, 191 Other Ranks (ORs), 7, 20; OR corps, 35, 50, 111, 114, 120, 141 out of place, 102 outdoorings, 24, 65 outside world, 88, 265

235

P pace stick, 60, 62, 104 Pakistani, 142, 147, 161 Palestine, 158 Pan-Africanist political agenda, 2 Parliament, 177 parody of a professional military, 19, 80 Part I Orders, 14, 91, 94, 107, 113, 117 patriotism, 117 pay appropriate compliment, 51–53, 113 peace soldiers, 8 peacekeeping missions, 8, 9, 15, 57, 137, 158, 162, 211; peacekeeping, 17, 156; peacekeeping operations, 157–161 peers, 83–96, 111, 117, 141, 142, 155, 165, 211 People’s Defence Committees (PDCs), 26 people’s government, 4 People’s National Party (PNP), 4, 21 performance, 44, 60–63, 73, 87, 126 performance of openness, 202, 204 periodic military–media engagements, 194 perpetrators of violence, 5 personal benefits, 161, 164 personal circumstances, 83, 109 personal military career ambitions, 2 personal projects, 164 phantom past, 105 physical arrangement, 46 physical manifestations, 85, 89, 94, 98 physical selection, 112–113 pillar, 53, 80 pips, 50–56 pitfalls, 45, 47, 120 place of employment for party boys, 115 Police Service, 212

236

INDEX

policing, 172, 189 political decision, 157 political engagement, 158, 175, 188 political foot soldiers, 115, 192 political heavy weights, 115 political insecurity, 5 political parties, 3, 213 political patronage, 124 political scene, 5 political science, 139 poor image, 107, 173, 175, 180, 201 poor working and living conditions, 178 positive attitude, 187 post-colonial soldiers, 106 post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), 5 poverty, 106, 146 poverty-stricken area, 106 power of the thumb, 203 power thirsty, 173 predecessors, 139, 145, 205 pre-deployment training, 165 predictability, 17, 19, 25, 67, 80, 164, 203 predictability of stability, 164 President, 2, 22, 177, 180, 184, 185 President’s Own Guard Regiment (POGR), 180 presidential guards, 180, 185–186 pride, 92, 171, 186, 191, 205 private companies, 194, 205 privileges, 48, 54, 72, 185–186 professional and social dynamics, 146; professional ethos, 174 professional pride, 171–179, 186, 191, 201, 205 professionalism, 7, 9, 16, 165, 172, 174, 176, 180, 189, 190, 202, 205, 209, 212–213 protocol list, 114, 118, 121, 124, 212 Provisional National Defence Council (PNDC), 4, 25–40, 170–177, 180–200, 210

public image, 6, 8–10, 170, 175, 194, 202, 205, 209; public imagination, 8, 171, 191, 202, 205 public relations, 9, 191, 193, 194, 202 public trial, 20 punctuality, 92 Q Quainoo, Arnold: Brigadier, 21; General, 34–39, 60, 66, 209 R rank, 32, 33, 36, 47, 48, 50, 59, 63, 73, 141, 210, 213; rank insignia, 43, 47, 49, 50, 53, 86 rank and file, 9, 27, 35, 111 Rawlings, Flight Lieutenant Jerry John, 3, 4, 27, 30, 33 Rawlings’ Babies, 180–182 Rawlings’ Darlings, 180–182 rebels and insurgents, 6 reciprocating the exchange, 68 Recruit Training Centre, 48, 54, 60, 82, 115 reference group, 154 Regiment of Presidential Security, 1 Regimental Provost (RP), 98 Regimental Sergeant Major (RSM), 14, 50, 58 regular armed forces, 30–31, 180, 186 release, 20, 24, 29, 35 remote selection process, 112 renegotiations of existing conventions, 102, 210 repetitive production, 140 repetitive subjectification, 137 reprisals, 116, 118 reproduction of expected behaviour, 71; predictable behaviour, 71, 74, 99, 210 rescuing flood victims, 195, 212 respect for authority, 43, 141 respect for rank, 43

INDEX

responsibilities, 37, 48, 52, 54 restructuring mission, 22 re-subjection, 137, 140, 142, 205 resurgence of coups, 1, 209 retirement, 143, 164 revenge, 21, 121 Revolution, 26, 90, 103, 181–185, 192, 200, 204 revolution from below, 3 revolutionary force, 29 revolutionary paramilitary, 30 rifle, 199 rigid, 26, 39, 91, 106 rough antics, 106, 210 rough-edged, 83, 210, 213 Royal Military Academy Sandhurst, 2, 7, 9, 68, 69, 150–155, 211 Royal Thai Army, 203 Royal West African Frontier Force (RWAFF), 7, 172 rules and regulations, 71, 74, 84, 94, 110, 210 rupture, 31, 213 Russia, 181 Rwanda, 157, 158 S sacrifice, 93, 97, 174 Sandhurst-minded, 2 Sandhurst syndrome, 2 Sani Abacha’s Special Bodyguard Service, 180 Sanogo, Captain Amoudou, 1 school children and students, 200, 202 second in command (2iC), 14, 58 security crisis, 1 security governance, 9, 153 Sekondi, 198 Sekondi Naval Base, 24, 72, 170 self-discipline, 81, 85, 92 self-reflection and assessment, 177 self-supervised, 92 senior high school (SHS), 140

237

senior non-commissioned officer (SNCO), 49, 84, 103, 109, 121 Senior Warrant Officer, 50, 55 sense of superiority, 110 sentries, 10, 13, 122 separate universes, 113 Service Dress, 49 set of values, 45; values, 2, 93, 99, 141, 174, 179, 210, 211 sexual harassment, 127 sexuality, 126–128 shadow side, 145, 155 shared background, 154 sharing food, 69 shoulder flashes, 49 Siaka Stevens’s Special Security Division, 180 Sierra Leone, 158, 159, 180 skill structure, 44 skyrocketing inflation, 21 slipstream, 80, 102, 103, 128, 210 small boys, 20, 29 smartphones, 111, 118; mobile phones, 60, 111, 114, 115 social and professional skills, 146 social beings, 142 social constellation, 43 social conventions, 128, 210 social media, 6 social relations, 51–52, 111 social stratification, 45 social suicide, 33 socialization, 81, 130, 147, 177; socializing force of values, 93 societal developments, 16, 111, 146, 148; societal perspective, 172 societal role, 147–148 societal stability, 211 societal unrest, 2, 16, 172, 174, 176, 179, 209, 211 sociopolitical environment, 164 soldier’s appearance, 85, 87, 94, 98 soldier’s conscience, 93 soldier’s subjectivity, 6

238 soldierly values, 2, 36, 59, 60, 64, 73, 81, 95, 99, 140, 144, 171, 174, 210 soldiers’ amenities, 3 Soviet Union, 151 spies of the Revolution, 31 sports, 36, 88, 89, 128 St. Cyr, 7 Staff Sergeants, 61, 86 starvation, 159 status, 20, 31, 48, 52, 59, 106, 108, 110, 173, 211 subjection, 17, 82, 129, 130, 137, 140, 141, 143, 156, 162, 165, 170 Sub-Saharan Africa, 5 substantial sum, 158 subversive activities, 32, 141 Sudan, 5 suicide, 182 Sunyani, 25, 198 Super Stars (SS) ’74, 35 superficial, 22 superiors, 20, 24, 27, 46, 62, 82, 84, 145, 155, 161; superiors and subordinates, 64, 144 support of dictatorships, 7 support system, 128 Supreme Military Council II (SMC II), 3 surveillance of soldiers, 157 susceptible, 129, 205 Swedish Armed Forces, 126 Symbols of Status, 47 T tablets, 111, 123 Takoradi, 198 Tamale, 198 taxpayer, 147–148 technical knowledge, 55, 70 technological innovations, 111, 113, 117, 128, 129, 210; technological devices, 111–113, 123, 128, 129, 210 technological savviness, 111

INDEX

Telephone Soldier, 114–120, 122–124, 129 Tema, 198 Tema Harbour, 195 tense relationship, 19, 27, 126 tertiary education certificates, 140, 163 tertiary institutions, 137, 139, 143, 149, 156 Thailand, 148, 203 theatres of war, 158 Three ‘S’ (shit, shave and shine), 86 time consciousness, 92 timid, 145 tool of transformation, 138 torture, 19, 67 total institution, 81, 117 transformation process, 2, 6, 9, 16, 18, 21, 34, 36, 38, 43, 48, 59, 64, 67, 73, 74, 81–91, 96, 103, 109, 111, 114, 118, 121–130, 137–141, 145, 148, 150, 155–160, 170–201, 203–213 transformative experience, 156 transgression, 205 translation and injection of knowledge, 155; acquired knowledge, 155 tread carefully, 23 treason, 20 triggers of behaviour, 47; human behaviour, 171 true colours, 191 trust, 14, 16, 40–64, 67–100, 210– 213 trust and hierarchy, 64, 74 trust-generating activities, 69, 74 trustworthy, 64–68, 71, 212 U unburied corpses, 159 undermining discipline, 27, 116 undiluted message, 22, 85 uneducated brutes, 173

INDEX

uniforms, 47–50, 59, 86, 94, 95, 104, 112, 118, 138, 147, 196 unintended benefits, 161 Union Government (Unigov), 3, 4 The United Kingdom, 5, 7, 9, 151–153 United Nations, 158, 162 United Nations Interim Force in Lebanon (UNIFIL), 157 United Nations Mission in Liberia (UNMIL), 57, 61 United Nations Mission in the Republic of South Sudan (UNMISS), 157 United Nations Multidimensional Integrated Stabilization Mission in Mali (MINUSMA), 157 United Nations Operation in Cote d’Ivoire (UNOCI), 157 United Nations Organization Stabilization Mission in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, 157 The United States of America, 5, 153, 185 University of Ghana, 138, 147 unmilitary, 83 unpolished, 94, 105 unwritten rules, 99 use of excessive force, 108, 172 V victim, 7, 195, 212; victim’s perspective, 5

239

violence, 4, 5, 7, 8, 21, 27, 32, 72, 90, 186, 204, 213; violent confrontations, 8 visible patterns, 171 visible security measures, 10 vulnerability, 68, 127 vulnerable position, 28 W war, 158–162; war dehumanizes, 159 warning, 109, 159, 160 warriors, 7, 106 wary, 26, 35, 66, 118, 162, 192 West Africa, 1, 148 West African Soldiers Social Activity (WASSA), 45–47 Western militaries, 5 Western-oriented, 2 WhatsApp, 115, 117, 123 Whistler Barracks, 11, 12 wings and stripes, 50 worsted cap badge, 49 written rules, 94 wrong impression, 121 Y young officer, 20, 31, 56, 73, 84, 114 youth, 29, 160, 164 Z Zimbabwe, 7