After the Arab Spring The Islamists’ Compromise in Tunisia Kasper Ly Netterstrøm Kasper Ly Netterstrøm is a doctoral candidate at the European University Institute in Florence, Italy. He has lived in Tunisia and has made several extensive visits there since the revolution in 2011. B etween October and December 2014, Tunisia completed both a parliamentary balloting and a two-round presidential election in orderly fashion and under free and fair conditions. Several weeks of negotiations later, a broad array of political parties came together to form a new government. With this achievement, Tunisia became the only country in the Middle East and North Africa to have turned its “Arab Spring” experience of 2011 into a real transition to democracy. Behind this success story lay a constitutional process that took thirty months following the fall of long-ruling dictator Zine al-Abedine Ben Ali in early 2011. The process was rocky. There were crises and interruptions. At several points, the task of bridging the different opinions in the constituent assembly seemed impossible. In the end, however, a spirit of compromise prevailed and the assembly passed a new constitution on 26 January 2014. Remarkably, the large Islamist party known as Ennahda (Renaissance), backed the new basic law even though it enshrined many principles that Ennahda had previously opposed. The constitution declares near its outset, for instance, that Tunisia is a “civil state” (dawla al-madaniya)—language that creates a presumption against religious interference in the state. The constitution guarantees a panoply of universal human rights—including freedom of expression and strong protection for women’s rights. Crucially, there is no reference to Islamic law (shari‘a), but only a reference to the “teachings of Islam” (ta’alim al-Islam). In mentioning “teachings” but not “law,” the constitution effectively excludes any legal role for the Islamic religious corpus. Most importantly, the constitution grants the right to “freedom of conscience and belief” (hurriet al-damir). In the Muslim world, this Journal of Democracy Volume 26, Number 4 October 2015 © 2015 National Endowment for Democracy and Johns Hopkins University Press Kasper Ly Netterstrøm 111 principle is truly revolutionary. Unlike a collective right of groups to practice their respective faiths (also known as “freedom of worship”), freedom of conscience acknowledges that each and every individual has the right freely to choose his or her faith. It means the right to change one’s religious affiliation, or to abandon religious belief and practice altogether. Not only Islamist ideologues but also most traditional Islamic authorities strictly condemn the idea of any Muslim leaving Islam, whether for another religion or for atheism. On this key point as on others, the new constitution is in stark contradiction with Ennahda’s original Islamist ideology. As Yadh Ben Achour, the chairman of the constitution-drafting commission, has noted, this is “the great paradox. These modernist achievements have been won even though the Islamists were in the majority in the assembly.”1 For a long time, the social sciences have tried to understand Islamist parties and movements, and how they evolve. Ennahda’s acceptance of the constitution is one of the most remarkable examples of a transformation by an Islamist party, and therefore is of great importance. Founded in 1981, Ennahda can look back on a decades-long struggle for survival. During that time, it developed different wings distinguished by their dominant experiences—exile, imprisonment, or underground activism. When the Tunisian Revolution came, these elements drew suddenly together and found themselves facing tough ideological questions with immediate practical significance. The Tunisian constitutional process is the story of how the Islamist party handled this historic challenge. The Paradigm of Islamist Moderation The term “Islamism” was coined in the late 1970s by French political scientists who were trying to understand the Iranian Revolution and other instances of Islamic activism that were then on the rise.2 At that time, movements such as Ennahda did not refer to themselves as “Islamist” but called themselves “Muslim.” Eventually, however, the academic term “Islamist,” popularized by Western media, was taken up by some of the actors themselves. Ennahda, for example, currently refers to itself as an Islamist party.3 Islamism invokes the ideological tradition founded by Jamal-Eddin Al-Afghani (1838–97), Hassan al-Banna (1906–49), Abu’l-A’la Mawdudi (1903–79), and others in the late-nineteenth and early-twentieth centuries. It also identifies with the political movements that have carried on this tradition, foremost among them the Muslim Brotherhood and its various sections and sister parties throughout the Arab and Muslim worlds. Islamism is the idea that Islam is not just a religion, but also a political ideology. It is the belief that all aspects of society can and should be organized according to the fundamental texts of Islam. As one can speak of a “socialist economy” or a “liberal economy,” Islamists be- 112 Journal of Democracy lieve that there is also an “Islamic economy,” not to mention an Islamic educational policy, social policy, environmental policy, and the like. As a famous Muslim Brotherhood slogan puts it, no matter what the issue, “Islam is the solution.” This solution is—in theory—always based on an interpretation of the Koran and the practice of the first four caliphs (also known as the “rightly guided caliphs”), the last of whom died in 661 C.E. Islamism is not a conservative ideology that takes the existing society as a model. Islamism rejects the actual tradition of governments within the Muslim world such as the Ottoman and Safavid empires, dismissing both as “un-Islamic.” Islamism is an a priori ideology that wants to transform society according to a set of predefined ideas. In this regard, Islamism has many similarities with socialism and communism. Scholars split over how to perceive these movements and parties. Orientalists and neoconservatives see Islamist parties as essentially undemocratic and unable to reform. Bernard Lewis, for example, writes that: For Islamists, democracy . . . is a one-way road on which there is no return, no rejection of the sovereignty of God, as exercised through His chosen representatives. Their electoral policy has been classically summarized as “One man (men only), one vote, once.”4 Those inclined to view Islamism as a form of identity politics, such as Dale Eickelman and James Piscatori, portray it as more nuanced and positive. In the French debate, these opposing positions are represented by Gilles Kepel’s view of Islamism as a radical movement versus François Burgat’s claim that Islamism must be understood in light of the struggle against colonialism and the authoritarian regimes in the region. It is also worth noting that this debate extends beyond the academic sphere. In the West and the Muslim world alike, the question of Islamists’ “true motives” is a recurrent topic of political discussion and dispute. Many of the protests against the Ennahda-led coalition in Tunisia were, for example, fueled by the opposition’s fear that Ennahda wanted to establish an Iranian-style theocracy. As a consequence of the electoral success of Turkey’s Islamist-rooted Justice and Development Party (AKP) and the U.S. government’s post9/11 democratization agenda, the academic debate in recent years has moved on. Rather than trying to discern Islamism’s “true nature,” the focus is now on how Islamist parties and movements can become more moderate. This has sparked fresh efforts to identify the factors that might change Islamists’ behavior. Vali Nasr and Fareed Zakaria stress economic development, while Stathis Kalyvas and others emphasize organizational structure.5 The most prominent theory of all, however, is the “inclusion-moderation hypothesis” made popular by Jillian Schwedler.6 Kasper Ly Netterstrøm 113 It holds that inclusion in the political process will make Islamist parties more moderate. The literature on this idea is large and varied, but there are enough common concepts and explanations to let us speak of an “inclusion-moderation paradigm.” Islamist movements may An important feature shared make concessions against by many studies that fit this paratheir will, purely for tactical digm is the distinction between and pragmatic reasons, but tactical and ideological moderaonce these compromises have tion (sometimes also referred to as been made, they may affect “behavioral” versus “substantial” the ideological position of moderation). While the former is the Islamists. concerned only with gaining power, the latter is a process in which an Islamist party genuinely changes its ideology. Islamists might adopt new policies and leave the ideology intact, or they might revisit their ideology and as a consequence formulate new policies. Most studies within the moderation paradigm claim that Islamist movements experience political learning and are thus led to revise their ideological stances. Exactly how this happens is a matter of dispute. Schwedler highlights debates and decision making within Islamist parties, while Berna Turam stresses everyday interactions with other parties and organizations.7 In either account, moderation appears as something of a deliberative process. Although Jürgen Habermas is not named, there is an almost Habermasian conception of how values change. The Islamists make up their mind in a neutral sphere and then make a political move. The ideological evolution happens outside the political realm. The inclusion-moderation paradigm deserves credit for going beyond the old debate and raising such topics as the inner workings of Islamist parties and the causes of ideological reform. Authors working within the paradigm have also contributed valuable policy advice. Yet this literature also suffers from some recurrent problems. Its close relationship with democracy promotion in the Middle East has imparted to it a strong normative bias and produced some problematic conceptualizations. First, the very concept of moderation is normative. To be “moderate” does not make sense in itself. One can only be moderate in relation to something else, and the moderation literature rarely makes that “something else” explicit. Most studies of Islamist moderation discuss in detail the different factors leading to moderation, but devote little space to defining what it means to be “moderate.” Many studies present only an operational definition of moderation and ignore the concept’s normative content. Others do state how they define moderation theoretically, but fail to discuss critically the employment of the term itself. This is obvious if one looks at the different definitions of moderation that are put 114 Journal of Democracy forth. Schwedler, a leader in the field, defines moderation as “a move away from exclusionary practices.” In their study of Morocco’s Party of Justice and Development (PJD), Eva Wegner and Miquel Pellicer define it as “increasing flexibility towards core ideological beliefs.”8 Both definitions replace moderation with another relational concept. “Flexibility” or “moving away from exclusionary practices” do not bring us much further than moderation. These definitions have the same implicit normativity as moderation. If Islamist movements were to show “flexibility” by becoming more violent than their initial ideological position would seem to predict, would that then count as “moderation”? Or if Islamist movements were to move away from “exclusionary practices” by no longer excluding armed jihadists, would we consider that an act of “moderation”? In her study of Jordanian Islamist movements, Janine Clark avoids this pitfall by defining moderation ideologically as “greater acceptance and understanding of democracy, political liberties, and the rights of women and minorities.”9 Similarly, in their comparison of Islamist and communist parties, Suveyda Karakaya and A. Kadir Yildirim define moderation simply as “change in positions on democracy, the economic system, and the political role of Islam.”10 Studies such as these, with their content-based definitions of moderation, are more honest about that concept’s normative nature. Yet if “moderate” is simply another way of saying “more democratic” or “more secular,” why speak of “moderation” at all? If it effectively means “more democratic,” why not just say that? “Moderation” rests on a value judgment; it has no analytical function, and can only serve to blur a study’s normative character. There is nothing wrong with asking how Islamist movements can become more democratic or secular, but then this should be clearly stated and not hidden behind the vague concept of “moderation.” The second problem with the inclusion-moderation paradigm is its distinction between tactical and ideological moderation. Despite its intuitive appeal, this distinction risks distorting our understanding of Islamist movements. Positing a sharp distinction between tactics and ideology implies that ideological moderation is the only true form of moderation. If Islamists fail to hold internal philosophical debates prior to revising their political agenda, we cannot count them as having “moderated.” If they make concessions out of pragmatism and political necessity, these concessions are necessarily viewed as tactical and therefore superficial and temporary. In the eyes of moderation theory, Islamists who have made tactical concessions will reverse them at the first chance they get. Here the moderation paradigm falls back into the previous discussion about whether Islamists have a hidden agenda or not. The problem is that political compromises and concessions often come before changes on the ideological side. Islamist movements may Kasper Ly Netterstrøm 115 make concessions against their will, purely for tactical and pragmatic reasons, but once these compromises have been made, they may affect the ideological position of the Islamists. Too sharp a focus on distinguishing tactical from ideological moderation, in other words, threatens to obscure the possible ideological effects that political compromises may have on Islamist movements. Sidestepping this danger, Carrie Wickham’s study of the Egyptian Wasat Party traces the manner in which tactical concessions can influence a party’s initial ideological position, thereby breaking down the sharp distinction between tactical and ideological moderation.11 The third problem with the moderation paradigm is that it treats power always as a means and never as an end. Of course there is truth to the idea that Islamists want power in order to enact their political program. Yet the motives that drive political actors—Islamists included—are far more diverse than simply implementing an ideological program. For the study of Islamism, focusing solely on power as a means makes it hard to explain why Islamists sometimes fail to act according to their ideology. If ideology is the Islamists’ sole motive, scholars have no choice but to see all Islamist concessions and compromises as “temporary” or “tactical”—otherwise there would be no way to explain them. Predisposed to Compromise? With these thoughts about the moderation paradigm and its weaknesses in mind, we can now turn to the Tunisian case. According to the paradigm, a process of ideological learning should have preceded the Islamists acceptance of secular constitutional principles. Was this the case? If one asks the Islamists, they will say that it was. They will note that they put their commitment to democracy, freedom, and human rights in writing as far back as the 1980s. Likewise, they will emphasize their pragmatism and their experience at working with other parties. This is not completely wrong. Since the 1981 founding of Ennahda’s predecessor, the Mouvement de la Tendance Islamique, legal recognition and not an Iranian-style revolution has been the main goal. The party has also been able to shift course. For example, in 1985 it strongly opposed President Habib Bourguiba’s Personal Status Code, which gave women new rights, demanding a referendum on the subject. Five years later, anticipating free elections during what turned out to be a shortlived political opening instituted by Ben Ali (who had ousted Bourguiba in a 1987 coup), Ennahda accepted the Personal Status Code. In 2005, Ennahda joined the Mouvement de 18 Octobre, a common platform that Tunisian opposition parties adopted to protest the Ben Ali regime. This was not the only time that Ennahda worked with other parties; it has a history of compromise and pragmatism. 116 Journal of Democracy This proves that Ennahda can adapt to varying political realities. It does not prove that it was ideologically committed to freedom of conscience, the abandonment of shari‘a, or other controversial issue positions in advance of the constitutional process. On the contrary, in the very book that many Ennahda members refer to in order to justify the party’s commitment to democracy, the movement’s leader Rachid Ghannouchi takes a clear stand against freedom of conscience. In this 1993 work, he writes that a Muslim’s leaving Islam (“apostasy”) is a crime akin to sedition and rebellion: Apostasy is a crime . . . related to the preservation of Muslims and the structures of the Islamic state against enemy attacks. . . . It is a political crime comparable in other regimes to a crime of leaving by force the state’s rule and attempting to destabilize it. It should be addressed using appropriate measures, proportionate to the importance and the danger that it represents.12 Likewise, shari‘a is essential to Ghannouchi’s idea of “Islamic democracy.” He envisions a system of competitive elections, but they are to take place within a political order whose foundation is shari‘a. The role of the elected government is to deliver ijtihad (interpretation) of Islamic law and to devise (shari‘a-compliant) legislation for areas that shari‘a does not cover. Ghannouchi does not advocate full-fledged democracy, but only a limited democracy covering what is not already laid out in preexisting Islamic law.13 Interviews with local Ennahda representatives confirm this picture. Most members wanted desperately to get a reference to shari‘a into the constitution, and freedom of conscience was something that the party—cadres as well as members—deeply opposed. Ennahda’s concessions in the constitutional process cannot be explained in terms of ideology. Ennahda officials might today frame the compromises that they made as in accord with Islamist ideology and their previous statements. Like any other political party, Ennahda tries to portray itself as coherent and logical. And yet, just as it did regarding the Personal Status Code in the early 1990s, Ennahda has reversed its position on shari‘a and freedom of conscience. We must therefore go beyond the Islamists’ own justifications. Party Leaders and Their Interests In order to grasp what drove Ennahda to accept key secular principles in the constitution, we must look at the party’s organization. Ennahda began as a religious movement; only in the early 1980s did it also become a political party. For that reason, and due to the Islamist belief that religion should dictate politics, Rachid Ghannouchi is both a religious authority and a political leader. Over the years (including a long spell Kasper Ly Netterstrøm 117 in exile), Ghannouchi has managed to further refine this role. His extensive writings on Islam and Islamism are widely read in Islamist circles. Ennahda members consider him an important religious authority whose words carry great weight. Other members of Ennahda’s leadership are also seen as authorities on religious questions. Abdel Fettah Mourou and Abdelmajid Najar, for instance, enjoy standing as Islamic scholars though Ghannouchi’s status far outranks theirs. Another particularity to note about Ennahda is its strong internal discipline. There can be divisions and fierce discussions inside the party, but once a decision is reached, the members tend to follow and defend the party’s position as if it were their own. The party’s schooling of its members and the formative experience of fighting the dictatorship has created a true sense of esprit de corps.14 The combination of an authority that is religious as well as political with an ethos of strong party discipline makes for a rather elitist organization. There are formally democratic structures for party governance including an elected president and a governing council (majlis al-shura), but Ghannouchi’s unique personal status enables him to get his way no matter what the governing council thinks. A majority of the council might disagree with him, but has no real means to sanction him or block his decision, if he really insists. There is therefore a lot of power in the hands of Ghannouchi and his close aides. This is the leadership of Ennahda. The members are important, for they represent and spread the party’s message in neighborhoods and towns all over the country. The leaders need to take the members into account when decisions are made in order to minimize internal dissension and maintain party cohesion. Nonetheless, important initiatives and decisions originate with the leadership. To understand why Ennahda conceded during the constitutional process, one must look at the leaders’ interests as well as their perception of how things stood after the fall of Ben Ali and the October 2011 constituentassembly election. Ennahda won 37 percent of the vote and took seats in each of Tunisia’s diverse regions, emerging as indisputably the country’s strongest and indeed only mass party. No other party came close to matching Ennahda’s organization and professionalism. Yet its actual political position was weaker than the election results indicated. The leadership knew that although Ben Ali and his family were gone, much of the old regime remained. The high offices of state, the secret services, and the police were still controlled by allies of the former dictator. Any disruption of the constitutional process or a widespread impression of political instability could bring the former regime back onto the political stage. As Abou Yareed Marzouki, an advisor to Prime Minister Hamadi Jebali in the first Ennahda-led government, described the situation, “The security services, the ministries, the media—all these people from the former 118 Journal of Democracy regime were still there. Nominally we had the power, but in reality they were in control.”15 It is important to recall that after Bourguiba fell to Ben Ali’s bloodless 1987 palace coup, Tunisia experienced tentative steps toward democracy before Ben Ali was able to consolidate power and begin persecuting Islamists. Having once been whipsawed, therefore, Ennahda’s cadres were painfully aware of how quickly the situation could turn against them despite their strong showing at the ballot box. The July 2013 coup of the military in Egypt against that country’s elected Muslim Brotherhood government further fed this fear of a sudden counterrevolution. Moreover, Ennahda’s leaders knew that the more secular-leaning parts of Tunisian society—and especially the powerful Tunisian General Labor Union (UGTT)—would do everything possible to prevent Islamist influence on the constitution. Having played a crucial role in the struggle for independence and in the toppling of Ben Ali, the UGTT enjoys enormous respect in Tunisia. With chapters and local members all over the country, the union was by far the best organized political entity in the country after the revolution. Ennahda cadres knew that if the UGTT called for strikes and put its weight behind opposition to an Ennahda-led government, the constitution-making process might crash.16 Alongside fear of the old regime and the secular opposition, finally, was the Ennahda leadership’s self-interest in making the constitutional process work. The leadership felt highly confident that it would be the big winner of democratic elections. This confidence was rooted not only in the 2011 results, but also in the long-range historical analysis that Ghannouchi and other leaders embraced. In their view, the modernization and secularization process that Bourguiba had launched upon independence in 1956, and that continued to a certain extent under Ben Ali, was foreign to Muslim Tunisia.17 Only dictatorship and brute force sustained modernization, they believed. If these were removed and people were allowed to choose freely, Tunisia’s Islamic identity would naturally reassert itself, with Ennahda as the leading party. For these reasons, a new constitution was crucial for the party. The Ennahda leaders wanted to leave as large and deep an Islamist imprint on this fresh basic law as they possibly could, of course, but they were always ready to compromise. Local Ennahda members, however, saw things very differently. A Two-Front Battle As mentioned above, many Ennahda members—including leading cadres—wanted a clear reference to shari‘a in the constitution’s preamble or first article. If the party’s Islamist ideology were to have any meaning, they felt, God’s law had to receive mention in the country’s founding document. Ennahda supporters and other Islamists held several Kasper Ly Netterstrøm 119 demonstrations in Tunis calling for the constitution to include shari‘a. On the question of freedom of conscience, the pressure from rank-andfile Ennahda members was even stronger. After their party’s electoral victory, they simply could not understand how the constitution could include a right to leave Islam, something that the vast majority of Islamic jurists regard as strictly forbidden. Ennahda’s leaders, meanwhile, understood that while they might join forces with some smaller Islamist-leaning parties to cobble together a slim majority for the shari‘a reference and the deletion of a freedomof-conscience clause, they would fall short of the two-thirds majority required to pass the entire constitution (note that Tunisia’s constitutional process included no popular ratification by referendum and left everything to the constituent assembly). Moreover, taking a tough stand on these flashpoint issues would not only threaten to wreck the entire constitution-making process, but would upset foreign investors and Tunisia’s Western allies. A country as tourism-dependent as Tunisia could not afford to look like a hotbed of extremism. Finally, there was the risk that the secular-oriented parts of Tunisian civil society might respond with a backlash and possibly even a counterrevolution, as described above. Given these considerations, Ennahda’s decision makers concluded that backing down was the best course. The Ennahda leadership thus saw itself as fighting on two fronts. On the one hand, it wanted to secure the biggest possible Islamist imprint on the constitution that it could without endangering the constitutional process altogether. On the other hand, it had to convince rank-and-file Ennahda members to accept principles opposed to the party’s original ideology. In order to accomplish this second task, leaders toured the party’s regional and local offices to talk to local members. The arguments delivered were generally mixed. Sometimes leaders downplayed the concessions, and sometimes they emphasized the role of civil society and asserted confidently that Tunisians would reject any modernist tendencies despite their place in the letter of the constitution. Most prominent, however, were new and more liberal interpretations of Islamism and Islam itself. In the midst of the constitutional process, Ghannouchi himself said: It is not suitable that Islamists and Muslims in general fear that freedom ​ would harm Islam. The greatest danger to Islam would be the absence of freedoms and the unavailability of sufficient guarantees for the freedom of conscience, the freedom of expression, the freedom of belief, the freedom of movement, and all social freedoms.18 His religious authority, as well as that of other Islamic thinkers within the party, was used to convince members that the compromises were perfectly Islamic. Shari‘a was turned into a matter of values rather than legal norms, thereby justifying the reference to the “teachings” rather 120 Journal of Democracy than the “laws” of Islam in the constitution’s preamble. Freedom of conscience was related to the general importance of freedom in Islam. The party also held meetings to air issues and settle on a common understanding before making the actual concessions with the other parties. This helped to calm members, but local leaders still found the work of explaining the concessions to be a hard job. As one local leader told me: It created a lot of problems in the party. A lot of members were angry. . . . To leave Islam is forbidden. Ghannouchi suggested a new interpretation of Islam on this subject, one which is very different from Islamic law. . . . Our role as party activists was to be in contact with the local members and explain to them the new interpretation. We managed to convince many members.19 One can question the arguments that were used, but the result is impressive. Coming back from exile and clandestine activity, Ennahda managed to change essential elements of its ideology in a short time and created genuine support for the new constitution among its members. Beyond Ideology Having examined Ennahda’s concessions, it is possible to sketch some general lessons from the Tunisian experience. It is a mistake of many studies on Islamist moderation to assume that Islamist parties and movements see power simply as a means to implement an ideological program. Islamists have other motives that can at times outweigh ideology. In the Tunisian case, what mattered regarding the reformulation of Ennahda’s ideology was not internal debates, interactions with other parties, or any other kind of predecision learning. What mattered was political calculation geared toward gaining and keeping power. For the sake of the party’s overarching goals, some elements of Islamist ideology had to be left behind. Freedom of conscience had to be affirmed, and shari‘a abandoned. Ennahda made these compromises out of political necessity, and only later developed an ideological rationale for them. The recruitment of the party’s rank-and-file membership to the side of this new understanding was not a neutral learning process, but an exercise in power and persuasion by the leadership. Leaders used every means of influence they could muster. Had this been a matter of members debating the issues freely without the leadership adding its weight to one side of the scales, the constitution would never have been accepted. In Tunisia, Islamists did not learn a new point of view; rather, their leaders decided to adopt a new view, and pressured members to do the same. This focus on power and political calculation should not be confused with a moderation that is merely tactical. Ennahda made concessions out of necessity, but that does not make them more temporary or superficial. Kasper Ly Netterstrøm 121 First, the leadership has now convinced party members that freedom of conscience and a constitution that makes no mention of shari‘a are perfectly compatible with Islam. To that extent, the party’s ideology has changed. Second, the pressure to abandon shari‘a and accept freedom of conscience will persist. If Ennahda wants to compete in future elections, it will need to appeal to centrist voters. Reintroducing a demand for shari‘a or attacking freedom of conscience would drive such voters away. In sum, there is no “hidden agenda,” only an adaptation to political realities. Seeing Islamist parties as driven by political calculation and not exclusively by ideology means that Islamist parties can genuinely reform themselves. Here, it is important to stress that focusing on political calculation is not the same as portraying the Islamists as only interested in power for power’s sake. Rejecting the moderation paradigm’s focus on ideology must not lead to simplistic Machiavellianism. To understand how Islamist parties evolve, we must look at the diversity of motives and personal trajectories that inform Islamists’ actions. For Ennahda, the experience of life under dictatorship has been crucial. Exile and imprisonment have left the party’s leaders with a lasting fear and distrust of the state. For many of them, gaining power has been less a question of being able to govern than of being able to survive. Having a share in power has been for Ennahda the only way to close off the dire possibility of renewed persecution. Furthermore, power has also been a path to recognition by the Tunisian establishment. Ever since the party’s founding, Ennahda’s followers have been excluded from the official history of Tunisia and treated as backward and inferior. To achieve power would reverse this image and make them a legitimate part of Tunisian society. In addition, the personal ambitions of some Ennahda leaders have certainly been significant. When studying Islamist parties, one must keep all these varying motives in mind and not look solely at ideological statements. Only then does a full understanding of how and why Islamist parties transform themselves become possible. An Unwilling Force for Secularization In the wake of the new constitution’s adoption, what does the process tell us about the relationship between religion and politics in Ennahda? How might the role of Islam in the party’s program evolve as a consequence of the constitutional process? As mentioned above, religious and political authority overlap within Ennahda. Yet contrary to the founders’ intent, it is not religion but politics that determines the party’s public stances. Indeed, political calculation not only trumps religious doctrine, but determines the very interpretation of religion itself. When Ennahda’s leaders had to make unpalatable but necessary com- 122 Journal of Democracy promises in the constituent assembly and then “sell” those concessions to the members, the leadership’s religious authority was bent to the task of coaxing the members into line. Islam became a political instrument for the leadership. Because Ennahda’s leaders needed their members to accept freedom of conscience, the abandonment of shari‘a, and other secular principles, the leadership put forth an interpretation of Islam that supported such concessions. The strategic calculations of the Ennahda leadership thus generated an ideological change among the members of the party. The process changed how many members perceive Islamism and Islam. Further research and surveys are needed to measure the dimensions of this value change, of course. Yet the sheer facts that the party is still united and still backing the constitution bear witness to the transformation that has occurred. It is important to remember that this value change does not apply to Islamists outside Ennahda. They have never accepted the constitution’s secular principles. As for how they will make their dissatisfaction heard, time will tell. But when it comes to the Ennahda party, its Islamist ideology has unquestionably been adapted to the institutions of modern democracy. In that sense, at least, the constitutional process has brought about a secularization of the Tunisian political sphere. For the reasons explained above, it is highly unlikely that the party will re-examine its support for the constitution, even when the 74-year-old Ghannouchi is no longer in power. As Meherzia Labidi, a leading member of Ennahda and former vice-president of the constituent assembly, explained: You know what we did with the constitution? We closed the debate on the political model. The acceptance of the constitution, especially Article 6 on freedom of conscience and Article 2 on the civil nature of the Tunisian state, put an end to the discussion of the role of Islam in state affairs.20 Ennahda’s acceptance of the constitution has buried the idea of building a fundamentally different society. The process has also shifted the party’s focus away from Islamism in its original, utopian form and toward a tendency to emphasize existing Islamic mores and values within Tunisian society as key reference points. Ghannouchi’s response to the Muhammad cartoons published by Charlie Hebdo is in that sense revealing. He supported censoring them in Tunisia, but observed that Muslims living in France should tolerate them, because there such cartoons are a part of the society. “What is accepted in one society, can be refused by another,” as he put it.21 This is a far cry from Islamism’s original universalism. The acceptance of the constitution might thus be a part of Ennahda’s gradual transformation from an Islamist movement into a more conventional conservative party. This would be an evolution similar to the shift that occurred in Turkey in the 1990s not within but Kasper Ly Netterstrøm 123 between parties, when the AKP under Recep Tayyip Erdo¢gan replaced the more Islamist-oriented Welfare Party. Such a drift from classic Islamism toward a more generic conservatism will still give Islam a prominent place in Ennahda’s rhetoric and concerns, but it will likely be expressed in terms of an “identity politics” not so different from the appeals of the Christian right in the United States. The party will single out policies that highlight Muslim identity, but will issue no challenge to the fundamental basis of the political order. Ennahda might push for a more Islamic-oriented educational system, higher taxes on alcohol, or a foreign policy centered on relations with Muslim countries. But these policy stances will be formulated within democratic institutions, just as Christian conservatives in the United States contest free abortion, but never question the U.S. constitution. Ennahda may engage in future “culture wars” over what it means to be Tunisian, but the core principles of liberal democracy will be left in peace. NOTES The author thanks Olivier Roy, Nadia Marzouki, Teije Hidde Donker, Michal Matlak, and Nedra Cherif. 1. Isabelle Mandraud, “La liberté de conscience, principe inédit dans le monde arabe,” Le Monde, 30 January 2014. 2. On the origin of the term “Islamism,” see Olivier Roy, “Les islamologues ont-ils inventé l’islamisme?” Esprit, August–September 2001. 3. See, for example, Rachid Ghannouchi’s references to Ennahda as an Islamist party in his 31 May 2013 speech on “Tunisia’s Democratic Future” at the Brookings Institution in Washington, D.C., available at www.brookings.edu/events/2013/05/31-tunisia-democracyghannouchi. 4. Bernard Lewis, The Crisis of Islam: Holy War and Unholy Terror (New York: Modern Library, 2003), 112. 5. Vali Nasr, Forces of Fortune: The Rise of the New Muslim Middle Class and What It Means for Our World (New York: Free Press, 2009); Fareed Zakaria, “Islam, Democracy and Constitutional Liberalism,” in James Demetrios Caraley, ed., American Hegemony: Preventive War, Iraq and Imposing Democracy (New York: Academy of Political Science, 2004); and Stathis Kalyvas, “Commitment Problems in Emerging Democracies: The Case of Religious Parties,” Comparative Politics 32 (July 2000): 379–98. 6. Jillian Schwedler, Faith in Moderation: Islamist Parties in Jordan and Yemen (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2006). 7. Berna Turam, Between Islam and the State: The Politics of Engagement (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2007). 8. Eva Wegner and Miquel Pellicer, “Islamist Moderation Without Democratization: The Coming of Age of the Moroccan Party of Justice and Development?” Democratization 16, no. 1 (2009): 157–75, and Jillian Schwedler, “Democratization, Inclusion and the Moderation of Islamist Parties,” Development 50, no. 1 (2007): 56–61. 124 Journal of Democracy 9. Janine A. Clark, “The Conditions of Islamist Moderation: Unpacking Cross-Ideological Cooperation in Jordan,” International Journal of Middle East Studies 38, no. 4 (2006): 539–60. 10. Suveyda Karakaya and A. Kadir Yildirim, “Islamist Moderation in Perspective: Comparative Analysis of the Moderation of Islamist and Western Communist Parties,” Democratization 20, no. 7 (2013): 1322–49. 11. Carrie Rosefsky Wickham, “The Path to Moderation: Strategy and Learning in the Formation of Egypt’s Wasat Party,” Comparative Politics 36, no. 2 (2004): 205. 12. Rachid Ghannouchi, Al-Hurriya Al-’Ammah Fid-Dawlah Al-Islamiyyah (Public liberties in the Islamic state) (Beirut: Markaz Dir÷as÷at al-Waḥdah al-‘Arab˜yah, 1993), 50. Translated by Nedra Cherif. Ghannouchi distinguishes in the book between two different views regarding apostasy. One school of Islamic jurisprudence considers it a religious offense that should be punished by the death penalty. The other school sees apostasy as an attack on the public order and therefore subject as such to a punishment comparable to what is meted out in other cases when the public order is violated. Ghannouchi belongs to the second school. He considers apostasy a crime, but does not believe that it should be punished by death. 13. On Ghannouchi’s political thought, see Azzam Tamimi, Rachid Ghannouchi: A Democrat Within Islamism (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2001). 14. On Ennahda under Ben Ali’s dictatorship, see Maryem Ben Salem, “Le militantisme en contexte répressif: Cas du mouvement islamiste tunisien,” (doctoral diss., Université Paris 1, Panthéon Sorbonne, 2013). 15. Interview with author, Menzel Bourguiba, Tunisia, 2 May 2014. 16. For a brilliant account of relations between Ennahda and the UGTT during the constitutional process, see H`ela Yousfi, L’UGTT, une passion tunisienne (Sfax: Med Ali Edition, 2015). 17. A description of Bourguiba as secular is not meant to imply that he removed or separated Islam from the political sphere. Instead, Bourguiba reinterpreted Islam to serve the nationalist and modernist state-building project. See Michel Camau and Vincent Geisser, Habib Bourguiba: La Trace et l’héritage (Paris: Karthala, 2004). 18. The speech was given on 19 July 2013 at the Center for the Study of Islam and Democracy in Tunis, and may be viewed at www.youtube.com/watch?v=B8xn-Wt_Py0. 19. Interview with author, Tunisia, 19 September 2014. Identity of interviewee withheld upon request. 20. Interview with author, Tunis, 9 September 2014. 31. 21. Olivier Ravanello and Rachid Ghannouchi, Au sujet de l’Islam (Paris: Plon, 2015), Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission. The Trap of International Intervention: How Somaliland Succeeded where Somalia Failed Teresa Krug Following the 1991 “collapse” of the once-unified countries Somalia and Somaliland, efforts to successfully “rebuild” these two nations have met polarizing results. Whereas the de facto state of Somaliland has achieved a relatively high degree of peace and stability by pursuing forms of localized governance in the absence of a strong central government or external interference, southern Somalia has proved unable to pursue their own, preferred system during its constant battle with international actors eager to “assist” the country in forming a strong, national governance structure. Viewed inaccurately by outsiders as an “ungoverned” area, southern Somalia’s attempts at local, effective, and—most importantly—outside actors have ignored, downplayed, or pushed out legitimate governance. In result, misguided efforts by the international community have unwittingly contributed to Somalia’s insecurity. Introduction “[In the developing world], many political rulers routinely use government to benefit themselves and their supporters at the expense of citizens…. In the extreme, they devolve into little more than organized thuggery, seizing every opportunity to extort their citizens. Ultra-dysfunctional states not only fail to provide public goods and protect citizens’ property. They are in fact the primary threat to their citizens’ property rights and security.”1 —Peter T. Leeson I n 2010 I covered the Somaliland presidential inauguration as a journalist for the Associated Press. I recall riding in the backseat of the newly appointed foreign minister’s black SUV as the long caravan snaked through the city’s main road to the presidential palace. Along each side of the road stood crowds of men and women eager to celebrate the election of President Ahmed Mohamed Mohamoud “Silanyo.” His path to the presidency had not been without incident, marred by occasional bursts of low-casualty violence and postponed elections several times over a two-year period. But on that July day, I saw no signs of Teresa Krug is a multimedia journalist specializing in economic injustice, immigration, and the effects of war, particularly in the Middle East and Somalia. She has worked with alJazeera English, al-Jazeera America, CBS, the Associated Press, and Meredith Corporation. Krug has an MPA from Columbia University’s School of International and Public Affairs and a BS from Iowa State University. SAIS Review vol. 36 no. 1 (Winter–Spring 2016) © 2016 Johns Hopkins University 121 122 SAIS Review Winter–Spring 2016 violent clashes or angry shouts. Instead, I saw only pride. Rather than clinging to power as so many other African leaders had famously done, their outgoing president, Dahir Riyale Kahin, peacefully conceded defeat. Though Kahin was credited with little other developmental progress within the region, Somalilanders were deeply appreciative for the period of peace that he had presided over. They saw how the south of Somalia appeared to be imploding on account of aggressive fighting between al-Shabaab fighters and internationally-backed government forces. Somalilanders wanted to stay as far away from that scenario as possible. In 2013, a few months after qualifying Somalis inaugurated Hassan Sheikh Mohamoud as their new president, I made my first trip to Mogadishu, sold on the idea that the intensity of the most recent war that began in 2006 had subsided. Southern Somalia seemed to be in an upswing toward becoming more stable and secure. The Federal Government—having replaced the Transitional Federal Government—had reduced the number of checkpoints, and now controlled ten square kilometers of the capital, five times the amount their predecessors had. Over the preceding three years, al-Shabaab, an Islamist terrorist group based in East Africa, had fallen out of power and retreated. The sound of construction punctured the air, rather than bullets or bombs, although bombings still occurred. In its place, residents—tired of the war and the bullying—had begun boldly reclaiming once-targeted hotspots, such as sidewalks, restaurants, and beaches. Sports stadiums, which militiamen had used as training grounds for years, once again began hosting soccer games and enjoying high spectatorship. Somalis from the diaspora were returning in droves, flush with US dollars and ambitious business plans. Even skepticism of Mohamoud, the man currently occupying the presidential palace that had long hosted numerous corrupt men, was mostly suspended. “The war is over,” individuals repeatedly told me. Historical Overview Somaliland and Somalia united as one country for the first time in July 1960, newly released from the United Kingdom and Italy, respectively. An indigenous desire to have all Somalis under one flag drove the union, and the transition from a colony and a protectorate into one democracy was peaceful and universally hailed for its success. This trajectory upended in 1969, when Siad Barre took power in a military coup and effectively became dictator of the region for the next two decades. While some advances were made under his reign— notably in committing the Somali language to written form and attaining an enviably high literacy rate throughout the country—many other forms of democratic progress slowed, or stalled altogether. Because Mogadishu became home to the federal government and to major universities and hospitals by extension, southern Somalis dominated the majority of government posts. Frustrated by feelings of exclusion, several politicians, military officers, and businessmen of the Isaaq clan—the largest in the northwest—founded the Somali National Movement.2 By the end of How Somaliland Succeeded where Somalia Failed 123 the 1980s, rifts between the country’s north and President Barre grew into a conflict between Barre and the entire country. Rather than providing national governance, violent political actors and bureaucrats embezzled state funds; extorted and murdered portions of the population; and aggressively engaged in the asset stripping of state-owned firms.3 Instead of devoting resources toward building up public services and institutions, or addressing the severe drought, Barre emptied the majority of government funds—much of it donated by other countries4—into his own private military.5 Siad Barre’s brutal reign reached such proportions that, reflecting later, the United Nations Development Program characterized the twenty-one year regime as having “one of the worst human rights records in Africa.”6 According to the International Labor Organization, the only reason why Somalis did not suffer more during the 1980s—especially during a regional drought that devastated neighboring Ethiopia—was not because of national governance, but because of actions by local actors, including an active private sector.7 After repeated attempts to oust him, Barre finally lost the fight and fled in January 1991, plunging the country into what outsiders have continually marked as Somalia’s collapse. By May of that year, Somaliland had separated from Somalia. Two Paths: Early Conferences and International Intervention Somalia In the power vacuum created by Barre’s departure, warlords took over. Clan warfare from 1991–92 engulfed Mogadishu, producing almost one million refugees and destroying residual services and institutions that had survived the neglectful and cruel Barre years, including key infrastructure, refineries, telecommunications installations, bridges, and more.8 Concurrently, a devastating famine outside of Mogadishu threatened almost 5 million people with hunger and disease, around 1.7 million of whom fled to the already strained capital city.9 Members of the international community, particularly the United States, contributed to efforts of a United Nations relief campaign, the United Nations Operation in Somalia I (UNOSOM I, later replaced by UNOSOM II). Together with the Organization of African Unity (later disbanded and reorganized as the African Union), UNOSOM tasked themselves with providing humanitarian relief and brokering a ceasefire.10 This ceasefire attempt would later result in more than twenty internationally sponsored peace conferences. In general, the international In general, the international community was largely out of its depth when community was largely out of its dealing with armed actors in Somalia. As depth when dealing with armed conflicts specialist Roland Marchal aptly actors in Somalia. points out, “The inability to understand how armed factions in Somalia were built and functioned made it impossible for the international community to countenance the emergence of other collective actors.”11 In the beginning, the coali- 124 SAIS Review Winter–Spring 2016 tion’s peace conferences had only a few groups represented. In fact, those who were present overwhelmingly belonged to one of two groups. The first were elders, specially appointed male leaders within communities whose duties, among others, were to act as arbitrators. The other group consisted of people who claimed to be elders. Due to grossly insufficient representation, peace agreements quickly fell apart. Heeding these failures, with each new peace conference, the coalition extended invitations to a broader range of actors, including clan families, women’s groups, human rights campaigners, and minority communities.12 Even with a growing number of actors included at peace conferences, e.g. the Djibouti conference in 1991 or Cairo conference in 1997, a successful outcome eluded the coalition. Although having more diverse and representative attendance at the conferences bolstered the meetings’ legitimacy, this broadened and diversified conference structure unintentionally incentivized groups to splinter in hopes of gaining a higher proportion of funding or influence, but to the detriment of a clear, cohesive conflict resolution.13 Among the savvier of groups within Somalia were powerful businessmen—backed by their personal militias—who verbalized their own desires to return the country to a place of democracy and human rights. Out of the gate, they positioned themselves as traditional leaders, regardless of whether this distinction was accurate.14 This included Ali Mahdi, a man who Italy heavily backed. In turn, one of the peace conferences appointed Mahdi as Somalia’s first president. (Mahdi would serve as presiAmong the savvier of groups within Somalia dent from 1991–97.) Yet were powerful businessmen who verbalized their while the international own desires to return the country to a place of community saw Mahdi as an entrepreneur and democracy and human rights. They positioned a politician, Somalis themselves as traditional leaders, regardless of saw him as just another warlord. Years later, at whether this distinction was accurate. an international peace conference in 2004, the conference’s body selected Abdullahi Yusuf—the first president of Puntland, a self-declared autonomous state in northeastern Somalia—to become the first president of the Transitional National Government (TNG), which had been established in 2000 yet another international peace conference in Djibouti. Local Somalis viewed Yusuf as a warlord. This trend continued to repeat itself, whereby warlords looking to gain favor with international actors rallied under noble-sounding banners, such as the Alliance for the Restoration of Peace and Counterterrorism. As a result, institutions remained weak and the government lacked the ability to control territory or raise money through taxes. When the government received international money, political leaders directed it into their and their local backers’ pockets, rather than into public service works. When clashes with militia factions occurred, residents did not even bother to call upon the TNG military for protection, as its soldiers were loyal first to their clans, leaving the How Somaliland Succeeded where Somalia Failed 125 TNG to outsource militia services from loyal businessmen.15 At the same time, Mogadishu residents were still paying taxes for access to roadways, airports, ports, large markets, and trade convoys. However, warlords and local businessmen’s militias were collecting the taxes.16 The TNG administration based itself hundreds of miles outside of Mogadishu, rather than relocating to the country’s capital, on account of security concerns. Together, this fed into the outsider’s view that Somalia continued to be lawless and ungoverned. In reality, during this time Somalia enjoyed a relatively high degree of peace and security—in spite of controversial governance—as the internationally sponsored peace conferences continued. Sporadic violence that took place tended to constitute relatively small-scale rivalry, and commerce expanded throughout the southern region.17 While the central government held questionable legitimacy, governance at the municipal level re- In reality, during this time Somalia enjoyed a tained a high degree of “legitimacy and local owner- relatively high degree of peace and security— ship,” which had produced in spite of controversial governance—as the the majority of day-to-day internationally sponsored peace conferences governance in Somalia for decades, even during the continued. Barre era. At times, these municipalities could provide basic services, operate piped water systems, regulate marketplaces, and collect a modest degree of taxes and user fees to cover administrative salaries. But despite local support, these administrations received the least amount of external support.18 These local governorships included the leaders of southern Somalia’s shari’a (Islamic law) courts, who are known as sheikhs. Both the courts and their sheikhs had steadily gained popularity and influence since the 1990s. Because the courts worked within Somali customs, they were able to establish a sense of rule and justice and were seen as legitimate authority figures by locals. Additionally, because a hybrid of clan elders and businesspeople funded them, the sheikhs and their respective courts tended to be moderate in nature. By 2006 they had risen to a national level of recognition for providing fairly effective local governance. In fact, “[I]n some parts of Somalia, local communities enjoy[ed] more responsive and participatory governance, and a more predictable, profitable, and safer commercial climate, than at any time in recent decades,” including during Barre’s reign.19 Others observed that “fewer people died from armed conflict in some parts of Somalia than did in neighboring countries that ha[d] governments.”20 Although outsiders were uneasy with the increasingly conservative form of governance, the institutions proved effective at keeping war at bay and worse actors from creeping in. It was precisely because of this form of governance that al-Qaeda struggled to find a firm foothold in Somalia. The group suffered from, among other things, the inability to strike significant alliances with Somali Islamists and difficulties with “hostile local actors,” which taxed them to operate in their areas.21 126 SAIS Review Winter–Spring 2016 After a visit to a struggling camp near both the Ethiopian and Kenyan borders, al-Qaeda’s operations chief at the time, Mohammed Atef, alerted his superiors that he found Somalia “difficult… because of dangers pertaining to security.”22 However, this delicate balance between security and the rule of law shifted dramatically in mid-2006 as international actors—particularly the United States—became more involved with on the ground operations. As Ethiopian troops moved into Somalia to displace the shari’a courts and usher the TNG into the presidential palace, violence once again resurged in result of backlash by rebel militants, who would soon be known worldwide as al-Shabaab. Somaliland By the time of Somalia’s collapse in 1991, approximately 100,000 people in the northern capital of Hargeisa had died as a result of summary executions, aerial bombardments, and ground attacks by Siad Barre’s troops. Widespread damage was done to Somalilanders’ water supply, destroyed through poison, physical destruction, or intentional draining. Additionally, the extended violence impacted crop cultivation and killed more than half of Somaliland’s total livestock, leaving the country grappling with high food insecurity.23 Within a month of declaring its separation from the south, leaders within the northern clans and the Somalia National Movement (SNM) began organizing peace conferences within Somaliland’s borders, sponsored rotationally by different Somaliland towns. This model starkly contrasts the internationally held conferences taking place for their southern brothers.24 Left alone by the international community and devoid of a national structure, clan and SNM leaders utilized existing Somali law and xeer (unwritten “private” laws) to immediately begin negotiating and addressing grievances, rather than waiting years for international tribunals.25 The northern Somali conferences set out to establish many essential, foundational necessities: confirmation of Berbera Port as a public asset, ensuring a source of future funding for the government; creation of a framework for the participation of clan elders by establishing the National Council of Elders; peaceful transfer of SNM control to a civilian government; development of a coalition of Somaliland’s main clans through a power-sharing system; demobilization of the militia; and provision of a secure environment for economic recovery. Over several years, the conferences resulted in increased participation at the peace talks and in voting delegates and seats in parliament for opposition groups, minority clans, and women. With fewer chances to receive outside funding, the north lacked the multiplication of groups as seen in the south, which allowed for a more inclusive representation at the proverbial table.26 Still, the state remained politically vulnerable to shifts in clan relationships and in the opposition’s preferences to remain with Somalia. However, given the absence of a revenue base, a decimated infrastructure, and a large number of displaced people, the government had little capacity to deal with the growing number of “freelance militia.” Violence broke out between rivalries within the SNM between 1991–92 and later between 1994–96. In both cases, Somaliland’s elders stepped forward to mediate local conflicts, increasingly taking on many administrative and security functions.27 How Somaliland Succeeded where Somalia Failed 127 Still shaky after each of these conflicts, Somaliland marked a turning point in 2002, when Somalilanders made it through the death of its second president, Mohammed H.I. Egal, elected in 1993. Keeping in line with the democratic institutions developed after 1991, as well as traditional and religious justice systems, power peacefully transferred to Vice President Dahir Riyale Kahin, who came from a non-Isaaq clan.28 Governance So-called “ungoverned spaces”—a term scholars Anne L. Clunan and Harold A. Trinkunas have called a misnomer—rose to international attention during the 1990s when they were perceived as a “threat to global governance.” As a result, the United States alone began spending hundreds of millions of dollars to strengthen the capacity of state governance, such as through “international military education and training, counterterrorism assistance, antinarcotics assistance, programs designed to strengthen the rule of law, and even traditional economic and military aid.”29 Yet, despite so much attention and resources devoted to building up governance elsewhere, international donors have remained “distinctly reluctant to conceive of or sanction alternatives to states for the provision of governance.”30 Attention to “ungoverned” territories has only increased as Attention to “ungoverned” territories leaders around the world have has only increased as leaders around posited such territories as being the world have posited such territories potential breeding grounds for terrorist organizations such as as being potential breeding grounds for al-Qaeda. In 2007, for example, terrorist organizations such as al-Qaeda. James Swan, then the Deputy Assistant Secretary for African Affairs, argued “Somalia’s ungoverned spaces opened opportunities for terrorists who directly threatened US persons and facilities… and that the opportunities afforded terrorist-affiliated individuals increased significantly in Somalia during the period of the Islamic Courts’ control.”31 As a result, Swan stated that the United States and the rest of the international community were prepared to help Somalis “secure their country” through “inclusive dialogue and reconciliation … [including those] marginalized from the political process.”32 Swan failed to mention that the United States and the international community had undertaken this course of action for the last sixteen years, as well as that the superpower had been, in effect, responsible for contributing to unequal representation at the internationally-developed peace conferences.33 Furthermore, Swan promised this would lead to the “formation of an inclusive government of national unity within the framework of the Transitional Federal Charter”—despite the lack of overwhelming support from Somalis to form such a type of national governance. In fact, many participants were averse to such a seemingly zero-sum game.34 This overwhelmingly Western approach to forming a national governance structure has resulted in misguided efforts to “return” the country to a mythical time when the central state of Somalia extended effective governorship and 128 SAIS Review Winter–Spring 2016 security to its citizens when, in fact, central governance has demonstrated itself to be the least effective way to produce stability and security in the East African country.35 Somalia is not alone; many societies have historically lacked central state Central governance has governance.36 Likewise, many societies have demonstrated itself to be the not necessarily flourished under national or least effective way to produce state governments either. As Peter T. Leeson, professor at George stability and security in the Mason University, observed: “It is common to think that most governments in world [sic] East African country. are the well-functioning variety. However, this conventional wisdom has it backwards. Well-functioning, highly-constrained governments that protect property rights and supply public goods are the exception, not the rule.”37 With respect to Somalia specifically, Leeson argued that Somalia worked better under anarchy than under government, and the absence of a predatory state stimulated local economies and public life.38 Pointing to the 2007 Failed States Index, Leeson mused that if the statistic that nearly 16 percent of the world’s countries were classified as “failing states” was correct, then: In over half of the world, states are either critically or dangerously dysfunctional. The world’s ‘experiment’ with government, then, has been a far more mixed one than most people think. Since dysfunctional and predatory governments are disproportionately located in the poorest… is it possible some least-developed countries could actually perform better without any government at all?39 What may be just as unfortunate about the United States’ single-minded approach to seeing a national governance structure come to fruition is the fact that US leadership is already aware of the negative impacts this type of governance can have. According to a 2008 Defense Department report: In many cases, provincial, local, tribal, or autonomous governments… are simply better positioned than the central government to address the local conditions that enable illicit actors to operate there. It often will be more efficient and effective to influence and enable those entities rather than… the host state in the short term. For diplomatic, legal, and practical reasons, the host state cannot be ignored or bypassed, but nor should it be permitted to impede progress against safe havens when other entities are positioned to help. An appropriate balance is needed.40 The international community—and more importantly Somalia—would be served well if it heeded these words. Conclusion As this article goes to print, Somalia’s security situation remains tenuous at best. In interviews I conducted in 2014, scholars relayed frustration that the current internationally-backed government has squandered an opportunity to capitalize and promote a peaceful Mogadishu, and at worst that the current government How Somaliland Succeeded where Somalia Failed 129 is actually directly responsible for the insecurity. Peter Pham of the Atlantic Council argued the current administration was in fact “undoing” the progress made by others. “[al-Shabaab],” he said, “should be well on its last legs.”41 Although the intensity of war has subsided, the battle against insecurity in Mogadishu will continue to be a problem until the way the international community addresses it changes. After abandoning its stronghold in Mogadishu back in 2011—due to overextension and gains made by better-trained troops from Although the intensity of war has subsided, the African Union Mission the battle against insecurity in Mogadishu in Somalia—al-Shabaab has will continue to be a problem until the way transitioned back to operating as guerilla fighters. “Just the international community addresses it like the Taliban, you’ll see changes. a cyclical movement from al-Shabaab, where you see them getting stronger during one season and weaker during another season,” remarked Abdi Aynte, then director of the Heritage Institute for Policy Studies, a Mogadishu-based think tank. At the same time, he added: “The vast majority of Somalia remains quite peaceful and stable. Many places are pretty stable without any government or administration…. Mogadishu tends to steal the thunder from the rest of the country.”42 By continuing to mislabel and treat Somalia as “ungoverned” territory, the United States and the international community will fail to achieve their ultimate goal of bringing security to the country. It is not enough to bring just any governance; it must be the most appropriate. Worse, by sticking to this tunnel vision approach, misguided efforts will in fact undermine continuing efforts by local administrations and actors who are succeeding—or those who might succeed if given the chance. If the international community is truly concerned with seeing security in Somalia, it must concede far more control to regional and local-level actors, including ones whose missions may oppose Western sensibilities. It is only then that the world’s most notorious failed nation will finally get its chance at achieving lasting security. Notes Peter T. Leeson, “Better Off Stateless: Somalia Before and After Government Collapse,” Journal of Comparative Economics 35 (2007): 690. 2 Marleen Renders, “Appropriate ‘governance-technology’–Somali clan elders and institutions in the making of the ‘Republic of Somaliland,’” Afrika Spectrum 42 (2007): 443–444. 3 Leeson, “Better off Stateless,” 693. 4 At the brink of the collapse of Somalia, the government spent less than one percent of its GDP on economic and social services, despite having 100 percent of its development budget and 50 percent of its recurrent budget funded by foreign aid. Ken Menkhaus, Mark Bradbury, and Roland Marchal, “2001 Human Development Report for Somalia,” United Nations Development Programme, http://hdr.undp.org/sites/default/files/somalia_2001_en.pdf. 5 Kenneth Menkhaus, “Governance without Government in Somalia: Spoilers, State Building, and the Politics of Coping,” International Security 31 (2007): 80. 6 Menkhaus, Bradbury, and Marchal, “2001 Human Development Report,” 42. 1 130 SAIS Review Winter–Spring 2016 François Grünewald, Aid in a city at war: the case of Mogadishu, Somalia, Disasters 36 (July 2012); S109. 8 Ismail I. Ahmed and Reginald Herbold Green, “The Heritage of War and State Collapse in Somalia and Somaliland: Local-Level Effects, External Interventions and Reconstruction,” Third World Quarterly 20 (1999): 120–121; “United Nations Operation in Somalia II (UNOSOM II) - Background (Full text),” United Nations, http://www.un.org/en/peacekeeping/missions/past/ unosom2backgr2.html. 9 Ibid. 10 Ibid. 11 Roland Marchal, “Warlordism and Terrorism: How to Obscure an Already Confusing Crisis? The Case of Somalia,” International Affairs 83, no. 6. (November 2007): 1100. 12 Somaliland was noticeably absent, insisting they be treated as a separate country and that Somalia had no functioning government to negotiate with. 13 “Somali Peace Process,” African Union Mission in Somalia, May 2, 2014, http://amisom-au.org/ about-somalia/somali-peace-process/; “Somali Political Leaders: Cairo Declaration on Somalia,” International Legal Materials 37 (1998): 780–787. 14 Marchal, “Warlordism and Terrorism,” 1093, 1099. 15 Andre Le Sage, “Somalia: Sovereign disguise for a Mogadishu Mafia,” Review of African Political Economy 29 (2002): 134–137. 16 Leeson, “Better Off Stateless,” 705. 17 Jacob N. Shapiro and Kenneth Menkhaus in Ungoverned Spaces: Alternatives to State Authority in an Era of Softened Sovereignty, ed. Anne Clunan, et al., (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2010). 18 Kenneth Menkhaus, “Governance without Government in Somalia,” 82–85. 19 Ibid., 1998, 220. 20 Leeson, “Better Off Stateless,” 695. 21 Menkhaus and Shapiro, “Ungoverned Spaces,” 78–79. 22 Ibid. 23 Ahmed and Green, “The Heritage of War and State Collapse in Somalia and Somaliland,” 119. 24 Adan Yusuf Abokor, Haroon Ahmed Yusuf, and Mark Bradbury, “Somaliland: Choosing Politics Over Violence,” Review of African Political Economy 30 (2003): 459. 25 Renders, “Appropriate ‘Governance-Technology,’” 442; Abokor, Bradbury, and Yusuf, “The Heritage of War and State Collapse,” 462. Note: This access differed from that in the south. While the south also held traditions of Somali clan law, they had weakened under Barre’s rule through his desire to annihilate all forms of clan structure in lieu of national unity. They now further weakened because of international actors’ misguided efforts. 26 Abokor, Bradbury, and Yusuf, “The Heritage of War and State Collapse,” 458–461. 27 Ibid. 28 Ibid., 463. 29 Anne Clunan and Harold Trinkunas, Ungoverned Spaces: Alternatives to State Authority in an Era of Softened Sovereignty (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2010), 28. 30 Ibid. 31 James Swan, “Remarks to the Baltimore Council on Foreign Affairs on Somalia,” Department of State, http://2001-2009.state.gov/p/af/rls/rm/81586.htm. 32 Ibid. 33 Interestingly, with each passing international conference and initiative, Menkhaus notes that it is likely to become “exponentially more difficult” to nation-build as time goes on. As local actors have adapted to a “state-less” existence, there is a higher risk of aversion or resistance to reviving a central state. Menkhaus, “Governance without Government in Somalia,” 77. 34 Ibid.; Swan, “Remarks to the Baltimore Council on Foreign Affairs on Somalia.” 35 Clunan and Trinkunas, Ungoverned Spaces, 6; Menkhaus, “Governance without Government in Somalia,” 87. 36 Ibid. 37 Leeson, “Better Off Stateless,” 690. 38 Ibid., 692. 7 How Somaliland Succeeded where Somalia Failed 131 Ibid., 690; Fund for Peace, “The Failed States Index 2007,” The Fund for Peace, http://fsi. fundforpeace.org/rankings-2007-sortable. According to the index, that same year, 49 percent of the world’s countries were in “warning” mode. 40 Robert D. Lamb, “Ungoverned Areas and Threats from Safe Havens–Final Report of the Ungoverned Areas Project,” US Department of Defense, 2008, 5. 41 Teresa Krug, interview with Peter Pham, Phone, March 6, 2014. 42 Teresa Krug, interview with Abdi Aynte, Skype, March 10, 2014. 39 Reproduced with permission of the copyright owner. Further reproduction prohibited without permission.
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