Document created: 31 December 03
Air University Review, May-June
1972
Foreign military assistance to Black African nations receives little attention, and for obvious reasons. In the first place, there isn’t much of it. Africa accounts for only about three percent of the total military and economic aid that the United States provides other nations of the world.1 Second, the continent simply lacks the strategic importance of the Middle East, Europe, Southeast Asia, or Latin America. Finally, our previous political ties to Africa have been minuscule. Even so, the role of U.S. military aid to the Black African nations deserves a special look, for the problems that Africa faces are unique, and the influence of its military structures grows larger each day.
This article will present a very brief general summary of the history and characteristics of the military in Africa and will postulate, on the basis of these generalizations, the effects of military aid. To narrow the perspective further, I shall omit the states of the Maghreb, since these nations have more in common with the Middle East and even Europe than with Sub-Saharan Africa. In addition, the states of the white-dominated countries of southern Africa will be left out, since their military and political structures are obviously sui generis. The remainder of the continent, referred to as Black Africa, is south of the Sahara but north of these minority-ruled nations.
The single most striking feature of the African military establishments is their newness. Because of their comparatively recent birth, there is a distinct lack of African military tradition in the classical Western sense. This is not to suggest that Africa has produced no notable military strategists or warring armies. Notable examples are Chakka, a Zulu chieftain, and Lobengula, head of the Matebele tribe of Rhodesia, as well as the military aspects of traditional Ethiopian culture. Yet Black Africa’s military, as they exist today, have no precolonial history, and their function in procuring independence thus contrasts very sharply with the role of Latin American armies, whose revolutionary role in this respect was decisive, or the states of Southeast Asia, whose preparation for independence was prolonged and laborious. The armies of Africa are strictly colonial inventions, stamped with the mark of the West. Indeed, the Sudan was the only Black African nation to achieve independence with anything approaching a substantial, well-trained army. As recipients of the best military resources that England had to offer, the Sudanese were used as a counterforce against the Egyptian north. Yet this is the only instance of a significant military force in any country of Black Africa at the time of independence. This lack of military tradition has meant that African counterparts to Atatürk, Eisenhower, Grant, or Teddy Roosevelt have not yet arisen, the nearest approach to such a counterpart being General Joseph Mobutu, President of Zaire (until recently known as Congo/Kinshasa).
Because the African armies, as they exist today, are colonial creations, they often tend to be viewed as vehicles for neocolonialism rather than symbols of nationalism. This is especially true in the French-speaking parts of Africa, where even today France keeps a finger in the military pie of her former colonies.2 Chad is a notable example. Canadian-French defense agreements have been quite extensive, and there were about 2500 French Legionnaires in Chad in September 1970 helping to put down the Moslem-led insurgencies in the northern provinces of the country. These troops are being withdrawn slowly, but their overall effect has been to lessen confidence in the movement of President François Tombalbaye. The French, in fact, maintain the most extensive defense agreements of any of the former colonial powers. (In view of French arms sales to the Republic of South Africa, this, of course, seems somewhat paradoxical.)
Besides their relatively recent colonial birth, there is another factor that characterizes the African military establishments: the tendency of many African nations to develop one-party states has rather inhibited the military’s freedom of action. These one-party states, such as Tanzania, Kenya, Ghana, and Zambia, envision all elements of their societies, and most notably the army, as committed to the state and to the political party that rules the state. This, no doubt, is to ensure that the sole political party of such nations can exert a really tight control over their military establishments, in that the armies are well integrated into the party itself. This has been the situation in Tanzania since the East African army mutinies of 1964. Naturally, such integration is not always successful, and it is no guarantee that the military will not attempt to wrest power from the party under whose thumb it squirms. Ghana is a case in point, for here the army successfully overthrew the Convention People’s Party and its leader, Kwame Nkrumah, in February 1966. But the fact is that one-party states do at least attempt to exert control over the military by intensive integration and subordination to the party and therefore to the state.
Guinea, where the army has often been described as a strangely dressed wing of the party, is an excellent example of party control of military forces. At first glance this may seem to contradict the distinctly apolitical and conservative aspects of the military training provided by the academies of Sandhurst and Saint Cyr, where a tradition of nonintervention in the political sphere was stressed. Both British and French military practices were totally opposed to any intervention in the political realm. Yet the desire of the one-party states to exert tight control over their armies has the same purpose as the conservative and apolitical traditions of the colonial military academies: in both instances the purpose was to keep the military from intervening or overthrowing the ruling power. And even today these same trends can be observed in the African military structures: on one hand, a reluctance on the part of the military to become involved in politics unless the situation becomes intolerable, as happened in Ghana in 1966; on the other hand, a reluctance on the part of the ruling political powers to allow the military too much influence.
A less crucial but still very important feature of the African military establishments is their size. Black Africa has only one soldier for every 1100 civilians. This compares with 15 per 1000 civilians in the United States, 10 per 1000 in the United Kingdom and the Middle East, and 5 per 1000 in the states of the Maghreb. The problems of disease, tribalism, illiteracy, and serious economic difficulties militate against spending already inadequate resources on military hardware and training. Four independent African nations have decided not to raise armies at all: Botswana, Lesotho, Swaziland, and Gambia will rely on paramilitary elements of their police forces for security. (Geographically or economically overpowered by neighboring states, any army these nations could raise would be useless.)
The relatively small size of the African military also indicates that the main concern of Black Africa is with internal security. (Ghana, under Nkrumah, is again the notable exception.) International warfare or other forms of “foreign adventurism” are unlikely for several reasons.
First of all, the logistical problems involved in intra-African warfare would be nothing short of a nightmare, a result of the varied terrain that characterizes the continent and makes travel and communication difficult, sometimes impossible. One is reminded of the saying, “Suppose they gave a war and nobody came?” More important, however, the Organization of African Unity has declared that the political boundaries, most of which were arbitrarily drawn at the 1885 Berlin Africa Conference, are to remain permanent and inviolate, even though they bear no resemblance to the social or ethnic makeup of the nations concerned.3 The spectre of “Balkanization” or the split-up of nations along tribal or ethnic lines as with Biafra and Katanga, continues to haunt the African leaders, for once border or tribal war begins, chaos will surely ensue throughout the continent. Hence the reluctance of all but four African nations (Tanzania, Zambia, Ivory Coast, and Republic of South Africa) to recognize the Biafran secession. Most leaders are simply afraid that the same type of secessionist movements would catch on in their own backyards. Ethiopia and Somalia have indulged in this type of warfare before and are notably reluctant to escalate the struggle. Somali tribesmen, living both in Ethiopia’s eastern Ogaden district and in the northern districts of Kenya, are prime examples of the difficulties faced by the African nations in this regard. (There is a danger, though, that large Russian military assistance to Somalia and Sudan, used as a counterweight to considerable U.S. military aid to Ethiopia, could make this area a focal point for the cold war in Africa. Coupled with the Middle East situation, the question then arises as to whether the “Horn” or Somali Peninsula will become a focus for the enlargement of the Arab-Israeli conflict.) Both the size of their armies and the nature of their borders would seem to preclude international warfare between Black African nations, however.
Given these general characteristics of African military structures—their lack of formal military traditions, their colonial birth, their small size and apolitical underpinnings—one might well wonder if the military in Africa is of any consequence at all. Thus, it is striking to note that of Black Africa’s 34 nations, eleven are under military rule at the present time: Ghana, Mali, Upper Volta, Togo, Nigeria, Central African Republic, Zaire, Congo/Brazzaville, Burundi, Somalia, and Uganda. Each of these nations has experienced either a civil war or a coup d’etat, in some cases more than once. Another six nations—Ethiopia, Sierra Leone, Gabon, Tanzania, Senegal, and Kenya—all have experienced the coups, mutinies, or military interventions which, even if eventually unsuccessful, were serious enough to cause great alarm. Given this trend in half of Black Africa’s nations, one quickly realizes that the significance of the military, despite their shortcomings, is increasing. Indeed, military intervention into the political realm seems to be a contagious business as well as a fast way to power. How can these instances of military intervention be reconciled with the characteristics and limitations of African military establishments previously cited? Why have the military, in spite of their own difficulties, chosen to intervene on so many occasions?
A large part of the answer lies in the manner in which Black Africa achieved independence. When independence finally overtook this part of the continent, it arrived as a huge tidal wave, engulfing the continent and propelling these nations on a massive crest, leaving little time to prepare for nationhood. Twenty-two Black African states were created between 1960 and 1962. This first wave was quickly followed by another, now a wave of euphoria and hope in the destiny of these nations liberated from their former colonial masters. But this very euphoria proved unable to erase decades of economic neglect, social animosities, political inexperience, poverty, illiteracy, and disease, even though for a time it did succeed in gluing together some shaky political experiments. A profound sense of disillusionment settled over Black Africa and the rest of the world, symbolized by the terrible anarchy and butchery of the Katanga secession movement and, more recently, by the Nigerian civil war. (It is significant to note that Africa wreaked this vengeance not against the former colonial powers but on her own people.4) In the dissatisfaction with the under-ripe fruits of independence, this euphoria changed to anger and was directed against the caretakers of the newly independent lands. With the ensuing breakdown of political and civil order in nations such as Zaire, Nigeria, Central African Republic, and Ghana, there was no agency capable of taking power except the military establishment. It was their sincere hope to stabilize the political situation and prevent economic and social chaos.
Given the above characteristics of the African military, plus the tendency to intervene in political life when all else has failed, what are the long-term prospects for military rule in the Black African nations? Is it proper to justify military aid to these nations on the grounds that the military is the only alternative to chaos and confusion? In other words, in the context of Black Africa, is the military an appropriate vehicle for nation-building? These questions, of course, must be answered for each country on a strictly individual basis. Yet, because of the unique situation in Africa, some generalizations can be offered, especially in the light of the political and social difficulties and recent independence of many of Black Africa’s nations.
A prime reason for believing that the military is a force for modernization
in Africa stems from its reputation as the most detribalized institution of the
young states. This is no mean compliment on a continent where ethnic pluralism
is the single most pressing obstacle to nation-building. Such reasoning sees
the military as a type of ministate, encouraging a wider, nationalistic
identity among its soldiers and, through them, to its civilians. The military
is also viewed as a highly visible nationalist organization, one in which the
population can take a certain amount of pride. Above all, it is tangible evidence
that a state does indeed exist, and it is the symbol, complete with elite
elements and impressive uniforms, of newly won nationhood.5 For
example, in Zaire during a funeral mass for President Kennedy, General Mobutu’s
elite paratroop unit stood in the center aisle of the church, impressing the
Zairian people even more than the Prime Minister, the President, or the Zairian
flag.6
This view of the military as a symbol of nationhood and a ministate can be overworked, however. For example, in the past there has been a decided tendency for the military to recruit preferentially from certain tribes. When Nigeria gained her independence, two-thirds of the officers in the army were Ibo, and the bulk of the enlisted troops came from the Moslem north. This hardly contributes to national identity. In Kenya, the army was drawn principally from the Kamba and Kalenjin tribes, while the Kikuyu were barred from military service altogether during the Mau Mau rebellion. In Ethiopia, the officer corps continues today to be dominated by the Amhara-Tigre elite. And even where tribal integration was successful in the armed forces, as in the Force Publique of then Belgian Congo, it still did not preclude the terrible chaos wreaked on that nation immediately after independence. It would seem that the military, of itself, is no de facto guarantor of nationhood or example of a supra tribal ministate.
Second, even if the African military structures were representative of their populations and viable examples of nationalism, their small size makes them questionable vehicles for fostering national pride and awareness. African armies are the smallest in the world relative to population. Do they really stimulate many people with national awareness? How many can they affect in such a way outside the cities? Indeed, since these armies—particularly their specialized units—are for the most part maintained by outside assistance, the military is just as liable to be considered a vehicle for neocolonialism as a promoter of national consciousness.
Along this same line, the military is often viewed as an effective means of accomplishing civic action projects—building roads, schools, and hospitals. At the same time it teaches its members skills that will be useful after their service is completed and then provides them with enough financial resources to set up small businesses. Here, indeed, it is argued, United States military assistance would contribute to national development. There is strong evidence for such a conclusion. Many of the soldiers of former French West and Equatorial Africa were able to set up small businesses in transportation and supply, utilizing money earned and skills acquired during World War II. The Tanzanian People’s Army, perhaps more accurately called a youth corps, is engaged in activity primarily of a civic nature. The Ethiopian Army has improved its image and relations by such projects.
But should military aid to African nations be justified by these achievements? In terms of economics, the use of the military for civic action projects seems questionable. For example, it is nearly six months before recruits are anything more than a liability, and the civic action projects initiated by them could be completed more cheaply by private organizations. Naturally, there are instances when there simply is no other organization to do the job, and civic action programs can provide work for otherwise underemployed armies. But in terms of strict economy, this is not to be desired. Nation-building does not require creating vast armies and waging world wars.
Still, the fact remains that the military structure, embodying as it does a bureaucratic organization, is the closest thing to a model of a ministate. In times of political stress and of disillusionment with the existing regime, the military is looked to as capable—indeed, the only force that is capable—of taking over and ruling the country. Hence, the political leaders, well aware of the military’s potential in this regard, try intensely hard—sometimes unsuccessfully—to keep a close watch on their armed forces. This is hard fact.
For all their potential for intervention into the political sphere, however, there is little evidence that the military can provide the long-term stability necessary for political development. Since the military is itself vulnerable to the very problems of the regime it replaces, the prospect of countercoup looms large over its collective head. Major General Gafaar Muhammad al-Nimeiry became president of Sudan in May 1969 by coup. July 1971 saw him likewise ousted by coup, only to return to power three days later—again by coup. In Africa, as elsewhere, coup breeds countercoup; revolution breeds more revolution, not only within a nation but as an example to other parts of the continent as well. The military may indeed be a short-term alternative to political chaos. But it is only that if this situation partially explains the rash of coups that have afflicted the African continent, it hardly justifies military assistance there. Military aid to Black Africa simply cannot be sustained on the grounds that it contributes to national development in this context. Tribally oriented military cliques still abound. The growing tradition of one-party states in Africa to control and direct military influence leads more to the formation of “people’s armies” and “youth corps” than to highly trained professional soldiers. Finally, the professional armies of Black Africa are too small, too new, and (rightly or wrongly) too closely associated with neocolonialism to be a force for nation-building.
If the main concern of Black Africa is with overcoming ethnic differences and thus achieving internal security, it would seem more logical to redirect military assistance into alternative programs such as public safety and para-police forces. For example, the United States Agency for International Development (AID) could have the African programs at its Police Academy expanded at the cost of a few largely useless naval vessels, tanks, and aircraft.
The small amount of military assistance provided Black Africa by the United States and other nations cannot, in light of the above facts, contribute significantly to nation-building. Other needs—disease eradication, literacy programs, road construction—are far more crucial. As it stands now, military aid to Black Africa makes no economic sense; it could make the continent an unwilling participant in the arms race and could actually contribute, in the long run, to political instability.
USAF Special Operations School
Notes
1. Ernest W. Lefever, Spear and Scepter (Washington: Brookings Institution, 1970), p. 17.
2. Richard Booth, The Armed Forces of African States, 1970 (London: Institute for Strategic Studies, 1970), pp. 23-24.
3. Charter of the Organization of African Unity, Article III, paragraph 3.
4. Rosalynde Ainslie, The Press in Africa (New York: Walker and Co., 1967), pp. 13-14.
5. Peter B. Riddleberger, Military Roles in Developing Countries: An Inventory of Past Research and Analysis (Washington: American University Special Operations Research Office), pp. 19-20.
6. Lefever, p. 176 n.
Lieutenant Bryant P. Shaw (B.A., Saint John’s College, Boston) is an area orientation instructor for Africa and Southeast Asia, USAF Special Operations School, Hurlburt Field, Florida. He has degrees in philosophy and history, has done graduate work at Syracuse University, and taught at Francistown, Botswana, Africa. Lieutenant Shaw attended the Foreign Service Institute of the Department of State.
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