Media, Conflict, and the State in Africa

media, conﬂict and the state in africa

Countries emerging from violent conflict face difficult challenges about what the role of media should be in political transitions, particularly when attempting to build a new state and balance a difficult legacy. Media, Conflict and the State in Africa discusses how ideas, institutions and interests have shaped media systems in some of Africa’s most complex state- and nation-building projects. This timely book comes at a turbulent moment in global politics as waves of populist protests gain traction and concerns continue to grow about fake news, social media echo chambers and the increasing role of both traditional and new media in waging wars or influencing elections. Focusing on comparative cases from a historical perspective and the choices and ideas that informed the approaches of some of Africa’s leaders, including guerrilla commanders Yoweri Museveni of Uganda and Meles Zenawi of Ethiopia, Nicole Stremlau offers a unique political insight into the development of contemporary media systems in Africa. nicole stremlau is head of the Programme in Comparative Media Law and Policy, Centre for Socio-Legal Studies, at the University of Oxford and research professor in humanities at the University of Johannesburg. She has conducted extensive research in Eastern Africa and previously worked for a newspaper in Ethiopia. Nicole is the recipient of a European Research Council grant that examines the role of social media in conflict and migration, with a specific focus on the Somali territories. Her work has appeared in journals such as African Affairs, Third World Quarterly, Review of African Political Economy and the International Journal of Communications. She is also the co-author, with Monroe Price, of Speech and Society in Turbulent Times (Cambridge University Press, 2018).

Media, Conﬂict and the State in Africa

NICOLE STREMLAU University of Oxford University of Johannesburg University Printing House, Cambridge cb2 8bs, United Kingdom One Liberty Plaza, 20th Floor, New York, ny 10006, USA 477 Williamstown Road, Port Melbourne, vic 3207, Australia 314–321, 3rd Floor, Plot 3, Splendor Forum, Jasola District Centre, New Delhi – 110025, India 79 Anson Road, #06–04/06, Singapore 079906

Cambridge University Press is part of the University of Cambridge. It furthers the University’s mission by disseminating knowledge in the pursuit of education, learning, and research at the highest international levels of excellence.

www.cambridge.org Information on this title: www.cambridge.org/9781108426855 doi: 10.1017/9781108551199 © Nicole Stremlau 2018 This publication is in copyright. Subject to statutory exception and to the provisions of relevant collective licensing agreements, no reproduction of any part may take place without the written permission of Cambridge University Press. First published 2018 Printed in the United States of America by Sheridan Books, Inc. A catalogue record for this publication is available from the British Library. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data names: Stremlau, Nicole, author. title: Media, conflict and the state in Africa / Nicole Stremlau. description: New York, NY : Cambridge University Press, 2018. | Includes bibliographical references and index. identifiers: lccn 2017061265 | isbn 9781108426855 (hardback : alk. paper) | isbn 9781108446396 (pbk. : alk. paper) subjects: lcsh: Mass media–Political aspects–Ethiopia. | Mass media–Political aspects–Uganda. | Mass media policy–Ethiopia. | Mass media policy–Uganda. classification: lcc p95.82.e8 s77 2018 | ddc 302.230963–dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017061265 isbn 978-1-108-42685-5 Hardback Cambridge University Press has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party internet websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate. For Iginio

Contents

List of Acronyms page ix Acknowledgements xi Note xv

1 Introduction 1

2 Between Authoritarian Politics and Free Expression 15

part i ethiopia 39

3 The Emergence of an Ethiopian Developmental Model 41

4 Purging and Politics: The Challenges of Institutional Transformation 60

5 Media, Elections and Polarised Politics 77

part ii uganda 97

6 The National Resistance Movement and the Decline of Political Ideology 99

7 A New Vision for the Rebuilding of State Institutions 112

8 Media and Opposition in Single Party Politics 126

9 Conclusion 140

Bibliography 155 Index 169

vii

Acronyms

AAPO All Amhara People’s Organisation (Ethiopia) AAU Addis Ababa University ADF Allied Democratic Forces (Uganda) AU African Union CAFPADE Council of Alternative Forces for Peace and Democracy in Ethiopia COPWE Commission to Organize the Party of the Workers of Ethiopia Derg ‘Committee’ (The group within the military that assumed power under Mengistu Haile Mariam) DP Democratic Party (Uganda) DRC Democratic Republic of the Congo EAEC East African Economic Community EC Ethiopian Calendar EFPJA Ethiopian Free Press Journalists Association ELF Eritrean Liberation Front EMMTI Ethiopian Mass Media Training Institute ENA Ethiopian News Agency EPA Ethiopian Press Agency EPLA Eritrean People’s Liberation Army EPLF Eritrean People’s Liberation Front EPRDF Ethiopian People’s Revolutionary Democratic Front FDC Forum for Democratic Change (Uganda) FEDEMU Federal Democratic Movement of Uganda Frelimo Frente de Libertacao de Mozambique Fronasa Front for National Salvation (Uganda) FUNA Former Uganda National Army GCIS Government Communication and Information Service (South Africa) ICU Islamic Courts Union (Somalia) LRA Lord’s Resistance Army (Uganda)

ix x List of Acronyms

MLLT Marxist–Leninist League of Tigray NEB National Electoral Board (Ethiopia) NIJU National Institute of Journalists of Uganda NRA National Resistance Army (Uganda) NRC National Resistance Council (Uganda) NRM National Resistance Movement (Uganda) OAU Organisation of African Unity OLF Oromo Liberation Front (Ethiopia) ONLF Ogaden National Liberation Front (Ethiopia) OPDO Oromo People’s Democratic Organisation (Ethiopia) PRA Popular Resistance Army (Uganda) RC Resistance Council (Uganda) REST Relief Society of Tigray SPLM Sudan People’s Liberation Movement TFG Transitional Federal Government (Somalia) TLF Tigrayan Liberation Front TNO Tigray National Organisation TPLF Tigray People’s Liberation Front TUSA Tigrayan University Students Association UEDF United Ethiopian Democratic Forces UFF Uganda Freedom Fighters UFM Uganda Freedom Movement UNC Uganda National Congress UNECA United Nations Economic Commission for Africa UNLA Uganda National Liberation Army UNLF Uganda National Liberation Front UPA Uganda People’s Army UPC Uganda People’s Congress UPDA Uganda People’s Democratic Army UPM Uganda Patriotic Movement USUAA Union of the University Students in Addis Ababa WPE Workers’ Party of Ethiopia Acknowledgements

This book is the result of a long journey and hundreds of conversations with people who shaped the media in Eastern Africa. In many ways it began in 2001 when I received a small grant from the Christopher Brodigan Fund at Wesleyan University that set me off on a path to learn more about the media in Ethiopia. Working for an Ethiopian newspaper in Addis Ababa, my curiosity and fascination grew for understanding how media cultures develop and change, with history always at the fore. As with many countries on the continent, many of the prominent journalists and media owners in Ethiopia were active in the guerrilla struggle – or were on ‘the other side’ of the defeated government. The legacy of how guerrilla governments have adapted to the challenge of governing, while negotiating their revolutionary values, has been an overlooked aspect of understanding media policy on the continent and one I have explored in this book. I since returned to Ethiopia many times, including for my PhD research, and also broadened my research to other countries in the region- Uganda, Somaliland, Somalia, Kenya, Sudan, Rwanda and Tanzania, among others. It is the generosity of leading journalists, and policymakers, civil society leaders, and former ﬁghters, in telling their stories that has made this book possible. I am extremely grateful for all of their time and helping me try to make sense of why the media is the way it is in particular contexts. A special thank you goes to Amare Aregawi, Charles Onyango-Obbo, Daniel Bekele, David Mukholi, Drake Ssekeba, and several colleagues in Ethiopia that were particularly generous with their time but asked to remain anonymous. Kassahun Addis ably provided the translation of articles and documents from Amharic and I am also grateful to Press Digest and Seven Days Update, which provide weekly summary and analysis of a diverse selection of Ethiopian media. Both of the editors of these publications allowed me access to their archives which has been a great tutorial on media in Ethiopia. Many journalists I interviewed several times, over the course of many hours, in some cases collecting their oral histories and attempting to piece together the

xi xii Acknowledgements development of the media that, while traced in newspapers, has lacked a documented back story about why certain choices were made and what values, ideas, power relations and philosophies that informed them. These ideas were further developed during long conversations over the course of the Stanhope Centre-LSE East African Journalist Fellowship Programme that continued to meet over several years in London, Addis and Khartoum, with long lasting friendships. I am particularly grateful to Adil El Baz, Blen Fitsum, Ruth Nesoba, Fred Olouch and Ester Nakkazi. Yusuf Gabobe became a special collaborator over the years in Somaliland and always had critical reflections and insights. Fellow researchers and collaborators in the House of Freedom in Addis Ababa provided warmth, ideas and friendship during extended research, including Emmanuel Fantini, Valeria Pechoni and Stefano Rossi. Colleagues at the University of Oxford’s Programme in Comparative Media Law and Policy have been, over the years, wonderfully inspiring and supportive. Monroe Price, a longtime collaborator and friend has been infectious and generous with his many ideas and encouragement. His passion and excitement for new ideas and quirky approaches encourages critical engagement and a grounded approach that is reflected here. Often flowing with the Centre for Global Communications Studies at the University of Pennsylvania, a large and global network with PCMLP has been inspiring- Paolo Cavaliere, Eleanor Marchant, Nevena Krivokapic, Susan Abbott, Laura Schwartz-Henderson, have been particularly instrumental in keeping it together. I am grateful to Oliver Aiken for his editing assistance and to Cristian Vaccari for his suggestions on structure (even if he did not realize it at the time). John Berger at CUP was a supportive and generous editor, helping to see this project to completion. This book emerged from some of the research I conducted at the London School of Economics and I am forever appreciative of the inspiration and guidance from Tim Allen. Jean Seaton and David Styan both provided constructive comments that have improved this book. And I am grateful for the recent partnership with colleagues in the European Union funded Media, Conflict and Democratisation project, particularly Katrin Voltmer who so astutely led the ship and for Gianluca Iazzolino and Jacinta Mwenda who did much of the research in Kenya and were so great to work with on this project. Negotiating all of the university partners and country case studies was not easy but it made for rich discussions that have invariably found their way into this book. Over the years, various funders have supported the research reflected here including the LSE Crisis States Programme, the UK FCO, the European Union, the ESRC and the Carnegie Corporation. Finally, I am most grateful for my family, including my parents, Carolyn and John, my brother Matthew and late grandmother, Claire, that have always been incredibly supportive of my research and travels to Ethiopia, Somaliland, Uganda and beyond and have offered critical feedback and inspiration when coming to visit while we were living there. The Altavillians, Laura, Franco, Pia and Guido, have Acknowledgements xiii always been tolerant of our writing and most generous accommodating us in gorgeous Monferrato and Lake Como. It certainly made writing and research more inspiring. I am grateful for the devotion our family has given our daughters, Carolina and Elisa while I have been writing, and for the patience and understanding of Carolina and Elisa while I have been finishing this book. This book is dedicated to Iginio, as it has been a long conversation with him. Much of our research has been conducted together and I am always grateful for his honest reflections, critical insights and devoted partnership over the years.

Note

The Ethiopian calendar begins 11 September and is seven years behind the Gregor- ian calendar until 31 December. After this date it is eight years behind. I have referred to dates as documented – i.e. for Amharic newspapers the date will be as provided with (EC) for Ethiopian Calendar. All other dates unless noted otherwise are in the Gregorian calendar. I have used the popular form for spelling Amharic and Tigrayan words in English rather than transliteration. In addition, it is typical for highland Ethiopians to go by their given names rather than their family names, so this norm has been followed in the book.

Introduction

As countries emerge from violent conflict they face difficult challenges about how to nurture a space where speech and media are able to contribute to a new future while balancing a difficult legacy. In some cases, media are part of ambitious reconciliation projects; in other war-to-peace transitions, reconciliation processes, if they occur at all, will be much further in the future. This is a book about the role of media in 1 some of Africa’s most complex state- and nation-building projects. It comes at a turbulent moment in global politics as waves of populist protest gain traction and concerns continue to grow about fake news, social media echo chambers and the increasing role of both traditional and new media in waging wars or influencing elections. As kleptocratic and autocratic forms of government take root throughout

1 The difference between nation-building and state-building is often muddled, particularly in post-war situations, where both processes often occur. There is a diverse literature on ‘failed states’(Fukuyama, 2004a, 2004b; Rotberg, 2002, 2004), ‘fragile states’ (Osaghae, 2007; Zoellick, 2008), ‘crisis states’ (Putzel & Di John, 2012)or‘hybrid political orders’(Boege, Brown & Clements, 2009; Lund, 2006; Meagher, 2012), among other classifications, in Africa that addresses the state- and nation-building debates. Both nation- and state-building are central to the political projects and the role of the media in Ethiopia and Uganda but exactly what is meant by this is not always clear. Generally accepted definitions are offered by the authors of State-Building, Nation-Building and Constitutional Politics in Post-Conflict Situations: Con- ceptual Clarifications and an Appraisal of Different Approaches, when they note ‘State-building means the establishment, re-establishment, and strengthening of a public structure in a given territory capable of delivering public goods. Essential to state-building is the creation of sovereign capacities of which the fundamental one is the successful and generally undisputed claim to a “monopoly of the legitimate use of physical force”’ (Von Bogdandy et al. 2005). In contrast, ‘Nation-building is the most common form of a process of collective identity formation with a view to legitimizing public power within a given territory. This is an essentially indigenous process which often not only projects a meaningful future but also draws on existing traditions, institutions and customs, redefining them as national characteristics in order to support the nation’s claim to sovereignty and uniqueness. A successful nation-building process produces a cultural projection of the nation containing a certain set of assumptions, values and beliefs which can function as the legitimizing foundation of a state structure.’ (Von Bogdandy et al., 2005).

1 2 Media, Conflict and the State in Africa the world, there are increasing restrictions on freedom of expression and a growing confidence in dismissing the old international order that (at times) has emphasised values and human rights in exchange for realpolitik. But by moving away from some of the assumptions or judgements about the role of the media in autocratic states, or judgements about the ways in which a country may fall short of classical freedom of expression standards, this book unpacks the paradoxes of media and politics to understand them on their own terms, and according to their own logic in specific contexts. In short, to borrow a question that has been used by other comparative media scholars, to ‘understand why the media is the way it is’ (Hallin & Mancini, 2004a; Siebert, Peterson & Schramm, 1956). This allows for diagnosing important factors that have led to the diverse media environments that we currently see across the continent. Home to some of the world’s most ambitious experiments in communication and media, Africa is an important and too often neglected theatre for exploring these difficult questions. With the mobile phone market growing at a pace exceeding 2 Asia, the continent is becoming more connected than ever, and media are having a transformative impact on all aspects of political, social and economic life. For many, this has instilled a great confidence in the potential for progressive strides forward. The United Nations Agenda for Sustainable Development, outlining the goals that all countries should adopt for addressing global poverty and peace, has made universal internet connectivity a goal for all by 2020. This has become a rallying point for leaders in industry, global philanthropists and international activists to connect the unconnected. This book stands cautiously back from the more optimistic projections and future hopes for technology and instead critically examines the foundations and ideas that have grounded the contemporary media systems in Ethiopia and Uganda today. Without dismissing the potential for new communication technologies to enhance the lives of individuals, the focus here is on how governments have used communications for political projects and to shape media systems for state- and nation- building, and how this has been challenged. New technologies are not simply added to society as an appendage to an existing order but, like an invasive species, the introduction of a technology often sees it spread with varying repercussions for the existing system. This is particularly the case in countries such as Ethiopia and Uganda that exhibit autocratic tendencies in their governance. Ruled by guerrilla movements that fought fierce wars before coming to power, the longstanding ruling parties in Uganda and Ethiopia have publicly proclaimed their desire to provide stability and unity, but these noble ambitions have too often morphed into centralism and control. Studying their shared, and divergent, histories provides insight into how autocracies have navigated the challenges and opportunities posed by media and communications in an increasingly information-rich environment. But, while

2 www.gsma.com/mobileeconomy/sub-saharan-africa-2017/. Introduction 3 sharing similar histories, Uganda and Ethiopia have also developed two very different media systems. Uganda’s is comparatively open, while Ethiopia’s is far more restrictive, and by asking why this has been the case it is possible to offer new conclusions about how the systems have developed, and also offer more general insights on the role of media in state- and nation-building projects.

africa’s new leaders?

Ethiopia and Uganda are ripe for comparative analysis. Their ruling parties share a legacy of coming to power after successful guerrilla wars led by charismatic leaders. In Uganda, President Yoweri Museveni and the National Resistance Movement (NRM) remain in power having taken office in 1986. In Ethiopia, Meles Zenawi and the Ethiopian People’s Revolutionary Democratic Front (EPRDF) took power in 1991 and Meles would likely still be Ethiopia’s head-of-state today if not for his untimely death in 2013. But his party also remains in power and is strongly devoted to his legacy and ideas. This longevity of rule can partly be attributed to the NRM and EPRDF’s ability to institute ambitious political projects steeped in the language of democracy and accountability but which have also helped consolidate their power. In Ethiopia this process of change has been referred to as Revolution- ary Democracy, while in Uganda it is known as the Movement System. These approaches, which were honed, developed, articulated and practised during the guerrilla struggles, informed the political transitions that the parties oversaw in the 1990s. But as wartime memories and legacies began to recede, the NRM and EPRDF each began to take up the business of long-term governance, redefining and rearticulating what Revolutionary Democracy and the Movement System means. While continuing to embrace elements of Marxist-Leninism that were so important to the EPRDF leadership’s early political education, Meles Zenawi offered a vision for Ethiopia’s future as a developmental democratic state harmonious with the post–Cold War world order, and there has been increasing discussion in Kampala about the practice of democratic centralism. But these are more efforts at rebranding core ideas than offering new alternatives. Revolutionary Democracy and the Movement System share much in common. They each emphasise the importance of the leadership of one party and a strong leadership figure to promote national unity, stability and development. As Vladimir Lenin described, democratic centralism involves the ‘freedom of discussion, unity of action’, which refers to the space given to party members to debate policy but with the expectation that all members will ultimately follow party decisions. With a heavy emphasis on strong, stable leadership, Revolutionary Democracy and the Movement System both promote a centralisation of power that is justified in enabling the state to best direct the development effort. In Ethiopia and Uganda, this approach draws inspiration not just from the Marxist-Leninist tradition but also from the historical examples of South East Asian countries that have enjoyed enviable levels 4 Media, Conflict and the State in Africa of economic growth since the Second World War. Each advocating for the role of the state and strong leadership, Meles and Museveni have been examples for other leaders in the continent seeking to break with the crippling orthodoxy of austerity. Paul Kagame of Rwanda, for example, has credited Meles with having ‘the intellectual ability to formulate and argue the case for a developmental democratic state ... and the boldness to push it through’, urging other Africans to ‘practice variations of the concept based on local conditions’, and they may ‘get equally good results’ (Kagame, 2015). Certainly, Ethiopia’s and Uganda’s economic growth rates demand attention. Ethiopia has had some of the highest rates of economic growth on the continent at 10.5 per cent (compared with Uganda at 4.5 per cent) average over 3 the last five years (until 2016). And by delivering high growth rates, proponents of Revolutionary Democracy and the Movement System have been able to deflect criticism that the EPRDF and NRM have restricted political freedoms. It is argued that Revolutionary Democracy and the Movement System promises instead a richer and more meaningful democracy based on empowerment. However, while Ethiopia and Uganda are tied together by their notable similarities and overall state-building trajectories, there are differences. Here, the media stands as both a mirror that can be held up to study these differences and a motor of the historical change driving divergent paths. Initially, both Meles and Museveni made promoting media freedoms a central part of their governments’ new political agendas and citizens and journalists enjoyed unprecedented access to diverse media outlets. From this starting point the situation has evolved differently. From the most established print outlets to the smallest online initiatives, since 2005 the media in Ethiopia has been subjected to extensive controls and surveillance by the ruling EPRDF. Websites are routinely blocked and at the time of writing more than a dozen journalists and bloggers are currently in jail. The country remains one of only two on the continent (the other being Eritrea) that retains a state monopoly of the telecommunications system. The result has been the creation of a highly restrictive media environment where few private media outlets are able to operate. In contrast, there are significantly fewer reports of government monitoring and surveillance of online spaces in Uganda, although the NRM has closed social media during recent election and campaigning periods. While journalists do report government harassment and there have been cases of imprisonment, the types of restrictions and intense interventions seen in Ethiopia are not present. With over 100 stations and dozens of private newspapers and satellite stations, the country is well connected and comparatively information rich. Ugandans themselves look favourably upon their media. From information collected between 2011 and 2013, Afrobarometer found that 83 per cent of Ugandans considered their media as being ‘effective’ in serving as a ‘watchdog role over government’, a percentage higher than both Ghana and South Africa (Mitullah & Kamau, 2013: 6). The country also ranks

3 www.worldbank.org/en/country/ethiopia and www.worldbank.org/en/country/uganda. Introduction 5 relatively highly for sub-Saharan Africa in Freedom House’s Press Freedom Index. No country in sub-Saharan Africa is assessed as ‘free’ but Uganda is categorised as ‘partly free’, above average for the region. Ethiopia, in contrast, is categorised as ‘not free’ and falls third from the bottom, just ahead of Equatorial Guinea and Eritrea (Freedom House, 2017). The similarities shared between Uganda’s and Ethiopia’s political systems and the differences that separate their media systems get to the heart of the puzzle raised in this book. While both countries have held elections since coming to power, these are deeply flawed and serve to distract from the political reality that Ethiopia and Uganda can be described as autocratic states. The spaces for political freedoms that the EPRDF and NRM initially encouraged took place at a specific global moment and were seen as part of a new trend in leadership and development on the continent. With the end of the Cold War and the liberal triumphalism that followed, Meles and Museveni were hailed as ‘agents of change’ who would bring peace to ethnically diverse and war-ravaged populations and contribute to a broader African Renaissance. Together with Kagame, Thabo Mbeki of South Africa, Joachim Chissano of Mozambique, Isaias Afeworki of Eritrea and Jerry Rawlings of Ghana they were seen as principled and committed leaders dedicated to improving the lives of their people through measures appropriate for their particular contexts (Ottaway, 1999). President Bill Clinton and Secretary of State Madeline Albright helped popularise the notion of a new generation of African leaders in the late 1990s, and while neither publicly listed the leaders who were part of this group, Albright visited Ethiopia and Uganda in 1997 and Clinton followed with a visit to Kampala in 1998, in which he praised both Meles and Museveni. Academics, journalists and commentators from within and beyond the continent endorsed the notion of new leaders. There were, of course, dissenting voices and critiques of the new leader narrative, and it did not take long for international disenchantment with these leaders to become evident. This change in sentiment can be clearly discerned in the pages of Foreign Affairs.In1998, an article entitled ‘Africa’s New Bloc’ argued that the Eastern African leaders, Meles, Museveni, Kagami and Afeworki, are ‘coalescing into a new political and military bloc’ and they ‘share the goal of ending the cronyism and instability’ (Connell & Smyth, 1998). In 2000, the publication carried an article entitled ‘Ending Africa’s Wars’ that argued that these leaders had clay feet and suggested that they might not be the purveyors of peace as expected, particularly since ‘currently all four “partners” are at war’ (Stremlau, 2000: 124). And in 2007, ‘Blowing the Horn’ contended that the Greater Horn, including Uganda, is ‘the hottest conflict zone in the world’ and suggested that these leaders have not been held to account by Western states, which ‘are like barking dogs with no bite’ (Prendergast & Thomas-Jensen, 2007: 71). The EPRDF and NRM may have brought some measure of peace to populations beleaguered by the extraordinary cruelty of the Derg and Idi Amin regimes that they 6 Media, Conflict and the State in Africa succeeded but they have not brought an end to violent conflicts, both internally and with their neighbours. Violence has been used as a tool by both parties to consolidate power. In Uganda, a major war in the North with the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA) has raged with no resolution for over twenty years, a conflict the NRM has steadily accrued political and financial benefit from. On the international front, Uganda has also been involved in a controversial war in the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) and previously in Rwanda. Ethiopia has also been involved in violent conflicts. Since the EPRDF came to power there have been a number of ongoing secessionist and liberation movements fighting the central government. Ethiopia recently intervened militarily in Somalia and its troops continue to occupy Mogadishu and surrounding areas in the South. Partly as a result of this intervention, the internal Ogaden National Liberation Front (ONLF), operating in the area bordering Somalia, has gained momentum and ONLF fighters and government troops are currently engaged in combat. Ethiopia and Eritrea also fought the bloodi- est conventional war of the late twentieth century over the tiny border town of Badme. The findings of the United Nations Border Commission awarding Badme to Eritrea have yet to be implemented and the countries remain on a war footing. Ethiopia and Uganda are now routinely included in categories ranging from ‘authoritarian’ (Hagmann & Reyntjens, 2016; Lyons, 2016), ‘semi-authoritarian’ (Khisa, 2016)to‘developmental authoritarians’ (Matfess, 2015)or‘illiberal state builders’ (Fisher & Anderson, 2015). These varying characterisations share several commonalities, including a recognition that while the EPRDF and NRM both desire and work for integration in the global economy and engagement with donor countries, they are also driven by a securitisation agenda. They both leverage the military to retain political power and solve problems, a typical recourse for governments emerging from guerrilla struggles or protracted conflicts. The lack of democratic practice is tolerated, perhaps even encouraged, by their international allies as part of a broader process of ‘securitisation of development’, which is characterised by a relationship with Western patrons built on enthusiastic support for the military and promoting security and stability above all else (Fisher & Anderson, 2015). While the securitisation of development framework has typically been built around the aid recipient’s relationship with Western patrons such as the United States, United Kingdom or France, there is also increasing camaraderie and support from countries such as China for such an approach. Ethiopia, in particular, has benefited from extensive Chinese investment in sectors from transport to telecommunications. The Chinese government recently invested $3.4 billion (USD) in a new 460-mile-long railway from Addis Ababa to the port in Djibouti, and the Chinese telecommunications company, ZTE, signed a loan agreement of $1.5 billion (USD) with the Ethiopian Telecommunication Corporation in 2006, the largest such agreement on the continent (Gagliardone, 2016b: 1). There are also unique party to party ties between the Communist Party of China and the EPRDF, which are reported to be the most extensive and close on the continent (Yun, 2016). Introduction 7

Now established regional players, the Ethiopian and Ugandan ruling parties have been in power for nearly a generation and their record of governance offers opportunities for new insights into the nation-building process. So what went wrong? What allowed Uganda’s media environment to grow into a comparatively rich and varied landscape and for Ethiopia’s to become desiccated by state repression? As the autocratic tendency cuts across both parties, it is not the simple holding on to power for powers sake that can explain these two paths but, as this book argues, a far more complex constellation of factors that must be unpacked.

Leadership and the Transition from War to Governance: Towards a Comparative Approach Comparative studies of media systems tend to focus on comparing equivalent policies and laws and schematically establishing the economic and political environment for journalists. Such criteria help enable quick comparisons, and ranking tables (such as those produced by Freedom House) may be useful for civil rights advocacy groups but often overlook the role of leaders and ideas that ground and shape institutions. The legacy of guerrilla insurgencies is an important factor here. While much of the literature on guerrilla governance focuses on the ways in which guerrilla movements govern the communities they control, this book instead focuses on how the insurgent parties headed by Museveni and Meles adapted to the task of transition and how they subsequently set out to order themselves and society when in power. Thus, the governance and politics of the communities as well as the parties is of importance. This approach endeavours to view Ethiopia and Uganda on their own terms rather than how they compare with idealised models that bear an uncanny resem- blance to the experiences of the West. Responding to calls to ‘dewesternize media studies’ (Curran & Myung-Jin, 2000), however, does not mean to suggest that these two countries have been hermetically sealed from outside influence. From examples of understanding the role of Mao’s teachings on the development of the EPRDF and NRM to the role of US military aid, this book focuses on the strong international influences involved in the creation of the two countries’ media systems today. The ambition for this book has instead been to carefully listen to the many conversations at play in the debates on media governance in these two countries that can be Afrocentric or Eurocentric, idealistic or technocratic, local or international and so on. Where Museveni and Meles tower over the two histories of this book, a focus on leadership is almost unavoidable here. Without unduly indulging the great man theory of history, leaders matter and particularly in times of transition from war when institutions are weakened, as has occurred recently in both Uganda and Ethiopia. Leaders can help build resilience, ameliorate tensions and enhance social cohesion by building support for a vision. They can also, inadvertently or not, act as 8 Media, Conflict and the State in Africa a stress factor, weakening state legitimacy and undermining social harmony. Identi- fying how leaders carry forward and symbolise the ideas they are seeking to advance is crucial to understanding politics. One of the more interesting aspects about leadership in the region is the rise of populism, and Meles and Museveni have not been immune from its charms, both adopting populist strategies to mobilise identity groups, particularly among the poor. Such trends have also been seen in South Africa under the African National Congress’s (ANC) Jacob Zuma, in Michael Sata’s Patriotic Front in Zambia and Raila Odinga’s unsuccessful bid for the presidency of Kenya (Carbone, 2008). These cases evidence the fact that leadership often has a central (and often overlooked) role in putting forward the ideas that shape state institutions and are intertwined with the political interests being advanced. Understanding the personal experiences and stories of the leaders, and how the histories of their countries have merged and meshed with their ideas helps to illuminate how their ideas motivate their actions. By reaching back to the revolutionary struggles of the ruling parties, this book is based upon a simple premise: to understand the present we must understand the past. It is too often assumed that new technologies will bring with them new modalities of interaction and new ways of being, but old ideas and institutions are never so easily replaced. A comparative case study approach allows for systematic analysis. By using small sets of theoretically interesting variables, and by using process tracing to identify causal relationships and trends, it is possible to offer insight into the factors that have contributed to certain trends and outcomes. This methodology has been prominent among political scientists and the methods here draw upon a long lineage that includes, among others, Émile Durkheim (1973), Max Weber (1949), Theda Skoc- pol (1984) and Arend Lijphart (1975). More recently, scholars such as David Collier and John Gerring have been reinvigorating this approach with applications of case study research emphasising process tracing, exemplified by research projects such as the African Power and Politics Programme at the UK’s Overseas Development Institute (Booth & Cammack, 2013; Kelsall, 2013). This project, which will be referred to later, has explored the ways in which ‘working with the grain’, or building development policies on local government structures cognisant of the ways societies actually work (rather than how they ought to), have achieved much welcomed results. This present book endeavours to share this bottom-up approach and the desire to move beyond the two extremes of multivariate statistical analysis and intensive studies of single case studies. These two poles tend to dominate contemporary research on media and governance with larger studies (often powerfully 4 foregrounding the colonial legacy ) attempting to forge causal relations between the media and development (Golding, 1974; Islam, 2002; Weaver, Buddenbaum & Fair, 1985), the media and democracy (Curran, 2011; Gunther & Mughan, 2000; McChesney, 2015) and the media and accountability (Bertot, Jaeger & Grimes, 2010;

4 See for example, Eribo & Jong-Ebot, 1997; Hachten, 1971 and Wilcox, 1975. Introduction 9

Besley & Prat, 2006; Nogara, 2009; Norris, 2009). At the other end of the spectrum there is a growing body of excellent and detailed ethnographic work on, for example, how newsrooms operate (Hasty, 2005; Skjerdal, 2008) and on community call-in radio programmes (Brisset-Foucault, 2016; Fraser, 2016; Gagliardone, 2016a; Stremlau, Fantini & Gagliardone, 2015). By forging a middle way that involves a systematic approach to small-N comparative studies, it is easier to detect and identify the nuance and context of particular situations as well as draw out causal relationships. These ‘middle way’ studies tend to work best if they have, at their core, a few key variables. Ideas, institutions and interests – three concepts that have been used vari- ously by political scientists, sociologists and economists – have proven particularly useful for this study (Blyth, 2002; Hall, 1997; Hay, 2004; Keohane & Martin, 1995). There is no absolute consensus on their definitions, and their use and meaning vary significantly across studies to explain everything from policy change around trade liberalisation (Irwin & Kroszner, 1999) to political change and polices around the American Civil Rights Movement (Lieberman, 2002). But the fact that these three categories have been returned to again and again is testament to their efficacy in both exploring and explaining complex phenomena. In Ideas and Institutions: Developmentalism in Brazil and Argentina, Kathryn Sikkink, for example, focused on ideas and institutions to explain why under two seemingly similar governments there have been very different developmental outcomes. Sikkink shows how the governments of Juscelino Kubitschek and Arturo Frondizi both assessed the challenges they faced in similar ways and pursued very similar policies but the results varied significantly. Leadership, Sikkink argued, was the key difference, as was the degree of political opposition and the institutional structures, in leading to the different outcomes (Sikkink, 2012). As with the best works in political economy, her analysis was attuned to the fact that ideas and interests can never be easily dis- aggregated into discrete spheres, and she carefully analysed the complex interplay that exists between them. This too has been a consideration in this book and explains the emphasis in these pages on competition, and analysis of the spaces and presentation of alternative ideas and political interests. Ideas are the boundaries of possible action and are the cognitive frames that undergird the language, discourse and symbols that give them form. They inform politics and power relations and, in a way, they become laws and policies providing the scope and priorities of what must be done. And laws and policies are created in such a way to reinforce certain ideas, elevating some and marginalising others. They also reflect the life histories of the leaders or parties that drive forward the ideas, reflecting both domestic and international experiences and influences. In some cases, when a political project is strongly ideologically grounded, the importance of ideas trumps the development of institutions and, in some cases, economic interests. Stalin’s ruinous policy of collectivization stands as one profoundly sad example of this dynamic. In this book, understanding the milieu of ideas surrounding the media and the EPRDF and NRM in Ethiopia and Uganda, respectively, has been accomplished 10 Media, Conflict and the State in Africa through an extensive examination of materials, including party propaganda, media texts from the struggle, writings by party ideologues (including sympathetic journalists and academics) and interviews with those most actively involved in advancing these ideas in the respective political systems. There is often an incorrect assumption that because it is difficult to access guerrilla insurgencies, it is too challenging to study them and understand their calculations. But as the arresting imagery of bearded guerrillas from the twentieth century alludes to, campaigns are often fought as much in the pages of the press and popular opinion as in the field, leaving a rich source base behind. Across the continent, guerrilla groups invariably had sophisticated media and propaganda strategies. Umkhonto we Sizwe, the armed wing of the ANC in South Africa, ran Radio Freedom from the 1970s to the 1990s, which is credited as being the oldest nationalist radio. Broadcasting from neighbouring countries, Radio Free- dom was instrumental in rallying South Africans and informing them of the struggle. Elsewhere in southern Africa, the South West Africa People’s Organizations of Namibia (SWAPO) launched the Voice of Namibia and the Zimbabwe African People’s Union’s (ZAPU) broadcast through the Voice of the Revolution. Radio stations were particularly attractive given guerrilla movements’ difficulties with controlling territory and the often illiterate populations they hoped to reach, but radio endeavours complemented with newsletters, newspapers and other communications initiatives, such as mobile theatre groups, all in an effort to convince war-weary populations to join the struggle. In Ethiopia, the Tigrayan People’s Liberation Front (the body from which the EPRDF was ultimately formed and which fought a long war against the Derg) had a portable radio station, Voice of the Rebellion, as well as printing presses that were hidden in caves in northern Ethiopia. In Uganda, the NRM published Resistance News from neighbouring Kenya and practised a unique mobilisation approach of establishing Resistance Councils in villages as part of their comprehensive communications strategy. The extant material that relates to these media all offer unique clues to the ideas and ideology and regional and international influences that have shaped current communications policies and political communication. Institutions offer the home and platform for the perpetuation and implementation of political ideas and values. Institutions, whether formal or informal, provide humanly devised constraints – rules, frameworks, structures – that shape interactions (North, 1990). When, why and how institutions change are central questions. Wars and economic depressions are often crucial turning points that alter structures (Blyth, 1997), and much has been said about institutional learning, or the ways in which institutional habits and traditions endure in times of significant turmoil and revolutionary change. Institutional learning has been fruitfully explored in understandings of the media in Eastern Europe during the process of democratization following the fall of the Berlin Wall. In these countries, many authors have documented a continued intolerance towards dissent that marked the period of Introduction 11

Communist rule and that has made more difficult the full realisation of democratic 5 institutions. Cases such as these upset the teleological assumptions that states exist on a linear path that will ultimately take them to a Western-style democracy. The echoes with Uganda and Ethiopia are clear, where the experiences the EPRDF and NRM gained during the struggles had a profound influence on their efforts to shape the respective media systems but where their capacity to enact change was limited by existing structures. This returns us to leadership and reminds us that there has been remarkable continuity between governance during the struggles and the establishment of national governments. Upon seizing power, many of the media reforms enacted by the EPRDF and NRM were instituted by the same individuals who had been the most active in the insurgencies. In Ethiopia, for example, Amare Aregawi, the head of the TPLF radio operation, later shaped the state-controlled Ethiopian Television and the Ethiopian News Agency, before leaving to launch one of the first private papers, The Reporter. In Uganda, Museveni himself was active, penning pieces for Uganda’s Resistance News. Similar career trajectories can be witnessed elsewhere on the continent. Zwelakhe Sisulu, son of the well-known liberation leader Walter Sisulu, and a leading journalist for ANC publications during the struggle, was appointed as the first head of the South African Broadcast Corporation (SABC) after the inauguration of democracy in 1994. In the case of Somaliland, the insurgency radio, Radio Halgan, almost directly transitioned to be the new government broadcaster, Radio Hargeisa, with the head of Radio Halgan serving as the first director. Returning to a point already made, despite often fierce efforts to defend their autonomy and prerogatives, institutions do not exist in isolation and their development is closely intertwined with evolutions of ideologies. In countries such as Uganda and Ethiopia, years of insecurity and violence have had a clear impact on how journalists and the government perceive themselves and each other. Concepts that can seem perfectly innocuous such as press watchdogs, press oversight and media independence can take on different meanings and interpretations that contrast markedly with their use by Western advocacy groups and media organisations. For many journalists who had been involved with the guerrilla insurgencies, their new positions as journalists after the end of formal hostilities merely led them to think of themselves as continuing the conflict through other means. Journalism often came to be regarded as an opportunity to implement the ideological and political vision for which they had often fought for decades. That the two histories under investigation here have a recurring cast of characters, however, does not mean that the interests of those in and out of power have always remained constant. While this book largely focuses on the perspectives of the NRM and EPRDF, the countries they preside over have been fractured by political

5 See for example, Beumers, Hutchings & Rulyova, 2009; Milton, 2001 and Price, Rozumilowicz & Verhulst, 2002. 12 Media, Conflict and the State in Africa disagreement and discontent. Both the NRM and EPRDF face many and varying opposition groups and interests, including the LRA in Northern Uganda and the ONLF in Ethiopia. Even members of their own parties have grown disenchanted and crossed over to become prominent voices of the opposition. The competition over the prevailing political and institutional framework as most frequently apparent through electoral competition has been bitterly fought over, and interests in the context of this book have been used to explore the ways in which political parties’ leaders have attempted to exercise power and advance their goals and objectives. A focus on interests also helps elucidate the type and nature of the opposition and how the opposition has also been crafted or developed by the ruling parties. How the opposition has been handled by the ruling parties, the nature of the arguments that have occurred between them and the spaces for elite negotiation of power are all part of understanding the role of competing interests in furthering particular outcomes. This book also considers the tools or institutions available for different groups to advance their agenda. In some cases, the individual or organisation may believe that there is little conventional opportunity for influencing political outcomes, and recourse to violence or insurgency is the only option (as is the case for guerrilla insurgencies). But in other instances, groups may attempt to use the law, media or civic education programmes to attempt to advance their agenda through softer methods. Material interests, or the distribution of resources, are also an important component of understanding how parties or authorities allocate or shape the flows of resources across social, ethnic or political groups. In this respect, interests are less ideological and more based on strategies of alternative political objectives and groups. In the context of Ethiopia and Uganda, the interests of the ruling party can be seen not only through electoral competition but also through the narratives and perceptions that the opposition, or critical media, have of the party. The detailed analysis and empirical heart of this book is divided into two parts, with Chapters 3, 4 and 5 devoted to the case of Ethiopia and Chapters 6, 7 and 8 focussed on Uganda. In order to provide the necessary context and further establish the nature of the similarities and differences between Uganda and Ethiopia, this is preceded by a more general overview to follow in Chapter 2. While recognising the role of the bifurcated state that Mahmood Mamdani explores in Citizen and Subject: Contemporary Africa and the Legacy of Late Colonialism, Chapter 2 looks back to the history of print and media culture and argues that accounts of contemporary media systems often overemphasise the role of the colonial legacy. This focus, the chapter argues, has led us to neglect more recent political developments and local agency in exploring why the media systems have developed in the way that they have. Chapters 3, 4 and 5 delve into the case of Ethiopia, following the framework of ideas, institutions and interests. The first chapter within this series focuses on the role of ideology during the guerrilla insurgency and the formation of the theories Introduction 13 of Revolutionary Democracy and the democratic developmental state that have marked the EPRDF’s rule. The chapter begins by focusing on the origins of these theories during the Student Movement, 1960–1974, when Tigreyans sought to rectify the injustices seen within their communities and how these ideas were further shaped and refined during the armed struggle against the Derg. The chapter then proceeds to understand how the principles and priorities developed by the TPLF during the period of opposition prior to 1991 came to be applied by the EPRDF to the task of governance and in particular in the development of the constitution. This chapter helps to explain the enduring influence of Revolutionary Democracy and the democratic developmental state on the EPRDF’s character, as well as the international appeal the EPRDF’s governance model has held for other countries on the continent. The next chapter, Chapter 4, considers the way the EPRDF approached developing institutions after coming to power. It examines the efforts to restructure the state according to the tenets of Revolutionary Democracy, including the process of consolidating single-party rule while attempting to retain some degree of legitimacy by permitting a degree of electoral competition. How the EPRDF approached the institutional and ideological legacy that it inherited from the Derg, including human resources, has proved to be a major determinant on the shape of contemporary institutions and broader issues of reconciliation. By purging the old order and failing to address historical grievances and effectively reform state media institutions, the ERPDF set in motion processes of resentment and distrust that have helped contribute to the highly polarised media landscape that exists today. The last of the Ethiopian chapters, Chapter 5, considers how some of the most influential elements of the private media have reflected these competing ideas and interests of the nation-state and studies the efforts on the part of the government to effectively reign such opposition in. While initially tolerating dissent, the EPRDF has increasingly calculated that restricting the media (and criticism more generally) is more in its interests to maintain rule than allowing it. Chapters 6, 7 and 8 turn to Uganda’s political and media system. Similarly structured to the Ethiopian chapters, Chapter 6 examines the roots of the NRM’s ideology and the development of the NRM’s justification for single-party rule, an approach widely known as the Movement System. The chapter focuses on the development of propaganda during the struggle and how the experience with persuasion and political mobilisation provided the lessons for institutionalising the Resistance Councils when coming to power: small units of political representation. The constitution-making process and the values and political ideas embedded within it are also considered. Chapter 7 considers the development of media institutions under single-party rule or what the proponents of the Movement System would rather call no-party rule, and the extent to which efforts of reconciliation were incorporated into this process. This marks a difference with the EPRDF’s approach to addressing the legacies of the previous regime and is explored in detail through the case of The New Vision Corporation. The New Vision, which includes the 14 Media, Conflict and the State in Africa publication of the newspaper, The New Vision, is the government’s unique experiment with creating what is essentially a party-led, but semi-independent, initiative that has set much of the tone and character of the media system as a whole. Chapter 8 considers the way in which the government has sought to shape an opposition media and co-opt critical voices as a way of consolidating power. In the context of non-competitive electoral contests, this chapter probes what it means to have critical media in the context of the NRM’s single-party rule and how interests beyond those of the ruling party might be reflected within the media system. The concluding chapter, Chapter 9, draws out some comparative explanations as to why the media has developed differently in Ethiopia and Uganda. While providing grounding on the influence of ideology, the reform (or non-reform) of institutions and the exercise of interests, the chapter engages with broader questions about the role of the media in contributing to the development of a nation of citizens and the place of the media in nation- and state-building. It also considers the intersection between the media and broader practices of reconciliation, which often involves building historical consensus and envisioning a shared future of the country. Finally, it is important to note that throughout this book the focus is on a few key publications. This facilitates narrating the story of the media more clearly and allows for greater depth and deeper understanding. In Ethiopia, there is extensive discussion of the government media, including The Ethiopian Herald and Addis Zeman, and the broader politics of transformation within the Ethiopian News Agency and Ethiopian Broadcasting Corporation. On the other end of the political spectrum, some of the pioneering private papers and critical media, such as Tobiya (and later Lisane Hezeb), are analysed along with more middle ground or private papers that showed greater sympathy towards the ERPDF’s agenda, including The Reporter and Fortune. In Uganda, where the media is less polarised, much of the focus is on the government paper, The New Vision, and its popular private counterpart, The Monitor (and its predecessor the Weekly Topic). Print media are a focus for several reasons; they serve as a historical record and it is easiest to access archives (radio archives are often non-existent) and they also have tended to be the most vibrant and independent, setting the agenda for news reporting on radio. This is not to undermine or neglect the importance of the many outlets that are not discussed. It is simply not possible to exhaustively cover every publication, radio station and social media outlet across two countries and several decades of history. But by focusing on a few selected and most important media houses, an in-depth analysis aware of wider developments has, hopefully, been achieved, bringing the characters and challenges to the fore. 2

Between Authoritarian Politics and Free Expression

Julius Nyerere, the ﬁrst president of Tanzania, and Kwame Nkrumah, the ﬁrst president of Ghana, along with some of Africa’s greatest post-colonial founders were journalists themselves and held passionate views on how the power of the media could be harnessed for the challenges they faced, particularly unity and integration. Nkrumah described, for example, the media as a central tool in supporting individual freedoms in a one-party state:

Because we want strong and yet democratic governments in our African Revolu- tion, we must guard against the dangers inherent in governments whose only opposition to tyranny and abuse lies in the folds of the ruling party itself. A ceaseless ﬂow of self-criticism, an unending vigilance against tyranny and nepotism and other forms of bribery and corruption, unswerving loyalty to principles approved by the masses of the people, these are the main safeguards for the people under one-party rule. Who is best able to exercise that vigilance, to furnish the material for self- criticism, to sound warnings against any departure from principles, if not the press of Revolutionary Africa? (Nkrumah, 1965: 87) While the ideas of Nyerere and Nkrumah may no longer be complementary to the prevailing geo-strategic order of the day, they have continued to resonate. Despite holding multi-party elections and initially allowing a relatively liberal media as part of the political process, the NRM and the EPRDF have sought to foster what are essentially one-party states. The reversal of media freedoms in Ethiopia has been striking, while the Ugandan government has also, at times, sought to control the media, although to a lesser degree. This, however, needs to be seen in the broader context of what are often political debates over the balance between national security and freedoms, including freedom of expression, and developmental debates over the differing capacities of more autocratic leaders, or democratic-leaning leaders, to effect change. Building on the introduction, this chapter further introduces the

15 16 Media, Conﬂict and the State in Africa comparison of Ethiopia and Uganda, particularly the recent political and media developments around electoral politics.

ethiopia

In October 2016, Ethiopia declared a state of emergency following a series of protests in the Oromia region. The protests began out of a concern on the part of Oromos about a plan to extend Addis Ababa into surrounding farmland (what has been known as the ‘master plan’) displacing farmers in the Oromia region. The protests have, however, grown to reflect the deeper political, economic and cultural grievances that this community feels, and have recently found an unnatural ally among the Amhara community, where the protests have also spread. By late 2016, more than 11,000 people were arrested and more than 500 people have been killed across the country, primarily in Oromia but also in the Amhara region, Addis Ababa and elsewhere as the demonstrations quickly morphed into a national movement. Those arrested include prominent bloggers from the Zone 9 blogging collective such as co-founder Befekadu Hailu. Members of Zone 9 have been targeted in the past, including ahead of the 2015 elections when six bloggers were arrested and presented with terrorism charges and allegations of conspiracy for using online encryption tools. Dramatic restrictions on the media and ICTs have been put in place as part of a state of emergency. Social media, mobile phone access to the Internet and access to certain websites have frequently been blocked as the government has prohibited the use of social media to share information about the protests. Opposition access to both the mass media and social media has been restricted, including criminalising the viewing of some diaspora satellite channels and making it difficult to report and travel outside of the capital, thus making much of the violence occur out of the view of the local and international media. The EPRDF justified the need to restrict freedom of expression and freedom of assembly as a necessary step to address ‘anti-peace groups’ working closely with ‘foreign elements’. In terms of scale, this overshadows the 2005 post-election period, which was arguably the greatest challenge and turning point for the EPRDF since coming to power. At the same time, however, the 2005 period reflects the most significant transition or marker of a reversal of practice and policies when it comes to free expression and media in Ethiopia. In May 2005, Ethiopia held the most open democratic elections in the country’s long history. The media and the opposition enjoyed extensive freedoms during the campaign period and voting day was relatively free and fair. The following day, as preliminary results from the election suggesting unexpected and unprecedented gains for the opposition parties became clear, the situation for the press and opposition parties began to change. A state of emergency was declared on 16 May, while the opposition parties claimed widespread vote rigging. Due to extensive complaints Between Authoritarian Politics and Free Expression 17 of irregularities, the National Election Board (NEB) delayed the official announcement of the election results. Despite a government ban on protests, public discontent towards the ruling EPRDF grew, particularly in the cities where many of the opposition supporters were. On 8 June, the original day when the official results were to be publicised, government troops and the federal police opened fire on large gatherings in the Merkato and Piazza areas of Addis Ababa, killing dozens of people and arresting hundreds of students (BBC News, 2005). In the months that followed, opposition leaders were placed under house arrest and reports were received of widespread persecution and arrests of suspected opposition supporters. When the results were eventually released in September, the EPRDF retained solid control of the government with 327 seats (59 per cent of the vote) and the opposition took an unprecedented 174 seats (32 per cent of the vote), including taking over the symbolically significant Mayor’soffice of Addis Ababa. Several months later the situation violently exploded again with dozens more killed during protests and tens of thousands arrested. Government troops could be seen going door to door in Addis Ababa arresting young men indiscriminately. While the exact numbers are not known, an October 2006 internal enquiry of the Ethiopian government was leaked and suggested that 193 civilians and 6 policemen had been killed, over 700 people wounded and more than 60,000 arrested during this period (BBC News, 2006). Among those arrested were more than 100 opposition party leaders, journalists and civil society leaders. The charges included treason, attempted genocide, armed rebellion and ‘outrage against the constitution’. The journalists were primarily charged under the penal code with treason or as conspirators of the opposition. A few were charged with violations of the press law. While the government radio and television stations were relatively tolerant of opposition views prior to voting day, it was the press and some blogs that hosted the most vibrant debates. The government tolerated these debates and assumed that they were largely confined to literate elites and those that had Internet access. After the November violence, however, all of the papers that were critical of the government were closed because their editors and journalists had been arrested or the printing presses refused to publish the papers. Blogs were blocked and SMS messaging, which was used to mobilise citizens for protests, was shut down for more than 18 months. It was not until July 2007 that the last group of opposition leaders and journalists were released from jail. The most recent elections, held in May 2015, resulted in the EPRDF and its 1 allies winning with a historic 100 per cent of the national parliamentary seats. This reflects continued policies and approaches to complete EPRDF domination of the electoral space. In the previous 2010 elections, the EPRDF and its allied parties similarly swept the ballot boxes, leaving a mere 2 seats out of 536 for opposition parties. Those that had optimistically hoped for a more competitive environment

1 The EPRDF won 500 out of 547, while its allies won the rest. 18 Media, Conflict and the State in Africa after the passing of Meles were quickly proved wrong. The staggering level of party domination of elections, with parties that bother to engage so extensively in the theatre of elections, is scarcely seen on the same scale on the continent. The only country that comes close is Rwanda, under the Rwandan Patriotic Front, where Paul Kagame’s numbers are just shy of the EPRDF’s (even Robert Mugabe’s Zimbabwe, often described as the pariah of democracy on the continent, was declared to have received 61 per cent of the vote in the latest 2013 elections). In many respects, and as will be argued throughout this book, this complete capture of the electoral space reflects the consolidation of the EPRDF’s approach to establishing what Meles termed a developmental democratic state. This approach is demonstrated both in the policies that the EPRDF has adopted towards communication and the media as well as the ways in which the media has reflected this political, economic and social strategy. The scars from the 2005 elections continue to mark political life in Ethiopia, and this period has clearly been a defining moment in Ethiopia’s recent history. More than 10 years later, the media remains a shell of its former self. Nowhere is this clearer than in the newspaper sector. The majority of newspapers have been, and remain, weekly. Two of the three dailies are government owned while the other, The Daily Monitor, is not overly political and largely compiles reports from the government and wire services. Prior to the elections there were many weekly papers. While circulation figures are very difficult to come by in Ethiopia, it is estimated that during the elections their circulation often doubled or tripled – at points reaching 90,000 – and some papers would publish almost daily. Sustained circulation for publications varies. As the next chapters will describe, many of the newspapers that were publishing during this period no longer exist and almost all of those that do publish are generally sympathetic to the government. During non-election periods, it is estimated that Addis Admass, published in Amharic, had the highest circulation, around 40,000 copies, while the Reporter or Fortune, published in English, had 2 a circulation of around 5,000. These numbers, however, belie the real reach of newspapers, as many would be read by several people, either because a purchased copy would be shared and passed along, or readers would rent a copy from a street seller to peruse with friends or over a coffee. Radio and television have always remained heavily restricted in Ethiopia, and access is primarily limited to government radio stations, private music/entertainment and education stations (and even these are tightly controlled). The government has regularly blocked international stations such as the Voice of America and Deutsche Welle, the German international broadcaster (BBC News, 2016; VOA News, 2010). The Internet has also faced a variety of restrictions that have fluctuated over the past decade. While Facebook has been elevated to a central forum for political debate and dialogue (Gagliardone et al., 2016), it remains largely limited to those that enjoy

2 Statistics, Ethiopian Ministry of Information, Addis Ababa. Personal communication. Between Authoritarian Politics and Free Expression 19 reliable Internet connections. Not surprisingly, the government is reluctant to censor this forum as the dispersed nature of political discussion on Facebook would entail shutting the entire service. Ethiopia is also unique for the extent to which the government has constructed what is arguably the most ambitious online surveillance state on the continent. The government has retained a complete monopoly over the telecommunications sector through EthioTelecom, a privileged position that allows it to monitor and control all online information ﬂows. Reports have emerged about the ways in which the government is not only passively collecting data but is also ambitiously targeting users both in the country and within the diaspora through monitoring their activity and capturing passwords and ﬁles (Human Rights Watch, 2014). Much of this activity has been supported by Western surveillance companies, including Italy’s Hacking Team and the British and German company Gamma/FinFisher, and is also supported by the growing role of China’s ZTE in the telecommunications sector that is further enabling the government’s ambitions to create an ‘Intranet’ that will further regulate and limit access to the internet (Gagliardone, 2016b).

uganda

Several months after the 2005 Ethiopian elections, Uganda held its first open and competitive multi-party elections in decades on 23 February 2006. This reflected a major transition in Museveni and the NRM’s thinking from advocating a ‘no-party system’ in order to provide peace and security after the wartime years to what was presented as a ‘multi-party democracy’. The opposition Forum for Democratic Change (FDC) party led by Kizza Besigye made record gains, leaving the incumbent NRM with 59 per cent of the vote (Ross, 2006). The media played a key role in the political debate in the periods before, during and after the election. With two main newspaper groups, one of which is government-leaning but widely respected, and over 100 local radio stations, the candidates received wide and diverse coverage. The election period was tense and marred by some violence but was significantly more peaceful than Ethiopia’s. Voting was controversial from the beginning, as Museveni changed the constitution to remove the two-term limit, which enabled him to compete, provoking both national and international condemnation. In the run-up to the elections, Besigye was arrested in November on charges of treason (relating to links with the Lord’s Resistance Army in Northern Uganda) and alleged rape involving a family friend. His arrest led to riots in Kampala by supporters who believed that the charges were levied to prevent him from contesting the elections. One rioter was shot dead by police. There were several instances of the NRM government shutting down particular media outlets temporarily, putting forward charges against journalists and not allowing international journalists complete access to the country. But overall, Uganda’s first competitive multiparty elections were relatively peaceful. 20 Media, Conflict and the State in Africa

Subsequent general elections in 2011 and 2016 developed along similar lines, with Besigye the main competitor to Museveni in both elections. Voter turn-out has been decreasing and in 2016 was significantly lower than Ethiopia’s reported turnout of 93 per cent in the election of the same year. This reflects both the weakness of the NRM to compel or co-opt citizens to vote (as in Ethiopia), as well as growing disillusionment about the electoral process and the opposition. Observers have described the oppositions’ attempts to unseat Museveni as increasingly half-hearted. As a former long-term Museveni ally and personal physician, the platform Besigye has run on has been less about offering contrasting policy ideas or an alternative vision for Uganda and more about removing a long-serving president. While Besigye has described Museveni as ‘illegitimate’ and rumours of the opposition encouraging ‘Egyptian style’ revolutions have circulated, such protests have gained little traction. The government has consistently targeted opposition members and has demonstrated a continued willingness to risk both domestic and international condemnation to temporarily close media outlets and social media during election periods. In 2016, for example, police repeatedly detained Besigye, often holding him briefly before releasing him. Between 15 February and 19 February, he was arrested or detained three times and on the 21 February he was effectively placed under house arrest. The government also targeted the use of social media platforms such as Twitter, Facebook and WhatsApp by ordering the providers MTN and Airtel to block these platforms out of concern that they were causing chaos, spreading false information and were disrupting the elections. In the words of Museveni, the ban was a ‘security measure to avert lies ... intended to incite violence and illegal declaration of election results’ (Museveni, quoted in Duggan, 2016). In the face of considerable difficulties engaging with the political process and declining electoral turnout, Ugandans remain enthusiastic about the role of media in politics and are supportive of the freedoms that media enjoy. Afrobarometer, the 3 pan-African polling organisation, recently released a compelling poll. When it came to supporting the statement that ‘the media should have the right to publish any views and ideas without government control’, 80 per cent of Ugandans agreed (second to Cape Verde). In comparison, just 30 per cent of Senegalese supported the same statement. Uganda came out at the very top when it came to support for the media’s watchdog role, with 86 per cent agreeing with the statement that ‘the news media should constantly investigate and report on government mistakes and corruption’. And Ugandans overwhelmingly (83 per cent) appear to feel that the media is effective in revealing government mistakes and corruption, second to Mauritius and just ahead of Ghana (Bentley, Han & Okuru, 2015). This faith is

3 Unfortunately, it is not possible to compare the Afrobarometer data from Uganda with Ethiopia. While Afrobarometer has done some polling in Ethiopia (2014), the findings have yet to be released and there appears to be no schedule to do so. This was the first time polling was done and it is highly controversial. Between Authoritarian Politics and Free Expression 21 manifested in the courts, which regularly uphold constitutional guarantees of freedom of expression, allowing media actors to have some confidence that they can have a fair trial in independent courts. And in recent years the Ugandan courts have nullified laws on sedition (2010) and the use of the penal code for publication of false news (2004). Ugandans today continue to enjoy access to over 100 private radio stations, as well 4 as a variety of television stations and papers. The New Vision and The Monitor, the two dominant newspapers, are published daily. Given their importance in shaping debate and their role in political communication, they will be the focus of much of this book. In 2016, The New Vision led with an estimated daily circulation around 27,000, while The Monitor’s circulation was around 19,500. Local language papers are increasingly popular and Bukedde, owned by The New Vision, has steadily 5 increased its circulation, to a peak of nearly 40,000 in 2015. Media houses are generally free to establish radio stations, and talk radio and or call-in programmes are highly popular. There are some cases of these stations being harassed by the government, particularly during election periods, as will be discussed later in this book. In addition, while community radio stations are spread across the country and particularly cater to rural communities, there have been significant concerns about security services targeting or threatening media outside of Kampala, leading to a two-tiered system with some laws and rights accessible for those in urban communities and others for rural ones.

demographic differences

As these recent developments indicate, the distaste Meles and Museveni have shared in their approach to electoral competition is clear. But dismissing Meles and Museveni as mere autocrats or authoritarian kleptocrats does little do advance understanding of the complex political projects underway and the nuanced international and communications environment in which they operate. This book takes seriously the ideological underpinnings of these regimes, and puts the political ideas that undergird ambitious state- and nation-building projects, particularly the approach to communications and media, at the fore. The political experiments underway in these countries offer key opportunities for deepening understanding about institutional development. While this book focuses on the development of media and communications systems, the ﬁndings, implications and research approach is relevant for other sectors such as education or health.

4 The Monitor changed its name and is currently known as the Daily Monitor and Sunday Monitor. To avoid confusion I will simply refer to the paper with its original founding title, The Monitor. 5 http://ugbusiness.com/2333/sales-of-english-dailies-decline-as-bukedde-picks-up-in-q3. 22 Media, Conﬂict and the State in Africa

Before examining the history of the print media, it is important to highlight some of the signiﬁcant differences in demographics and the makeup of the popula- 6 tion, state and media in the two countries. When it comes to basic demographics, Ethiopia is Africa’s second most populous country (after Nigeria), with nearly 100 million people, more than double that of Uganda, which has a population of 40 million people. The difference in population does have implications when speaking about the role of the media in nation-building or state-building, not least of all because Ethiopia is linguistically more diverse than Uganda, with more than eighty-two languages spoken. A second notable difference is that Uganda was a British protectorate (which made British intervention somewhat less intense than if it were a colony, as Kenya was), formed through the integration of regional chiefdoms and territories. There are three major ethnic groups in Uganda: Bantu, Nilotic and Central Sudanic. The Bantu are the most numerous and include the Baganda and the Banyankole from the Southwestern area, where Museveni is from. Residents of the north are largely Nilotic and comprise the next largest group. Ethiopia, on the other hand, has more often been a colonising than colonised state (Holcomb, 1990). It was occupied by a Western power, Italy, for only a short period, between 1936 and 1941 and is one of the oldest states in the world. Historians often trace the modern nation to the arrival of Sabaeans around 800 BC. The Oromo, who in the past served as slaves for the highlanders, are the largest ethnic group, comprising 32 per cent of the population. The Amhara, the traditional rulers, represent 30 per cent, while the core of the EPRDF has been formed by the Tigrayans, which are only 6 per cent of the population. This is an important point to note and contrasts with Uganda, where the NRM has its roots in the majority Bantu-speaking population. Upon seizing power, the NRM and TPLF both implemented some version of devolved governance, partly to address the complexities of ruling such hetero- geneous populations. The Ethiopian approach has been more ambitious, with a federalist constitution that provides considerable power to regional states and provisions for self-determination up to secession. Since Eritrea’s secession, however, the devolution of power has been more limited but regional states have autonomous governments, which are considered, in principle, to be equal to the federal government. The Ugandan system differs in that it consists of two levels of government, each of which controls the same territory and citizens. Regional governments are responsible for more local issues, while the national government addresses larger issues. The underlying rationale for these systems is different: in the case of Ethiopia it was to address complex issues of power and ethnic relations, whilst in Uganda it was seen as a means of engaging people at the local level and increasing their stake in the political process. Ethiopia has granted ethnic communities full rights

6 All data in this section come from the World Bank: http://data.worldbank.org/country/ethiopia and http://data.worldbank.org/country/uganda. Accessed 9 March 2017. Between Authoritarian Politics and Free Expression 23

(in theory, though not in practice), but Uganda’s strategy has been to encourage ethnic sentiments to be expressed through cultural loyalties (Young, 2001). As will be explained later, these divergences have been reflected in the media. Demographics have also played a role in how media has expanded and what spaces have gained prominence. When it comes to the print media, or online participation, literacy is often key. In line with the fact that Ugandans generally have more access to education and enjoy a higher GNP, Ugandans enjoy a literacy rate of around 66. 8 per cent, compared with just under 50 per cent in Ethiopia (Central Intelligence Agency, 2017). Ethiopia’s substantially larger population medi- ates some of this disparity when looking at media consumption; there are actually more Ethiopians (approximately 32 million) than Ugandans (20 million) who are 7 literate. In terms of absolute reach, newspaper circulation is quite similar, although arguably stronger (and growing) in Uganda since Ethiopia’s reversal of media liberalisation in 2005. Circulation figures, however, belie the influence of the press, particularly among elites which are so central in nation- and state-building projects. Not only are newspapers often read by several people but they also help set the news agenda for radio programmes, and articles are shared across social media. Most other media do not have the resources for the same level of investigative reporting that the print media houses have. A study by Afrobarometer, for example, suggests that newspaper readership, in comparison with other media, is the most important medium for cultivating democratic attitudes and practices (Afrobarometer, 2003). It has also been credited with being the most significant motivator in reinforcing popular commit- ments to free speech, the emergence of opinion leadership, the reduction of political fear and open criticism of national broadcasters (Temin & Smith, 2002). Such studies on the influence of the media on audiences have also indicated that the printed word is commonly regarded as more legitimate and truthful, partly because one can go back and refer to something in print.

historical context: a legacy of print media culture

When it comes to comparative politics, or comparative research on media systems in Africa, colonial factors have invariably been at the core of systematic and structured studies. This approach is, however, problematic. Typical of his time, William Hachten’s Mufﬂed Drums: The News Media in Africa (1971) placed the development of the media in the ﬁrst decade of independence into colonial categories, preceding a similar approach by Denis Wilcox, who in 1975 wrote, ‘the nature of

7 Nevertheless, it is important to acknowledge the significant language differences as most literate Ugandans read English, thus connecting them to the more global outlets of news and literature, whilst Ethiopians are more likely to read Amharic, Somali or another local language. 24 Media, Conflict and the State in Africa press-government relationships in Africa today is, in large part, due to the legacy left by colonial administrators and governments’ (1975). Festus Eribo and William Jong-Ebot’s edited volume Press Freedom and Communication in Africa (1997) took a historical look at the developments and influences of countries on the continent. By grouping a series of chapters into Anglophone, Arabic, Francophone and Luso- phone countries, comparative analysis in this book was inevitably centred on the colonial influences that have shaped the media in different regions of the continent. In studies such as these, Ethiopia is inevitably portrayed as an outlier, if it is included at all, given the not falling under the rule of a more traditional sub-Saharan African coloniser. Because such an overwhelming emphasis on colonial actors threatens to ignore local agency, this book has consciously chosen not to focus on this legacy as a major determining factor in the current shape of the media, instead foregrounding the role of leaders, political ideology and contemporary global transitions. At the same time, however, we must recognize that for much of the first half and middle of the twentieth century, international actors did have a significant impact on shaping the print media. This section explores these influences and suggests how they may have impacted how media was used for dissent and protest, particularly around the transition period that led to the rise of the guerrilla insurgencies that will be the focus of subsequent chapters. This is, however, not to say that the media environment was a ‘blank slate’,as so often problematically framed in development. This book entirely rejects such notions and finds this characterization counterproductive to understanding how media systems have evolved. In both Ethiopia and Uganda, but particularly Ethi- opia, there is a long rich history of the written word and inevitably written texts have been used for news, even if often religious news. The Kebra Negast,orThe Glory of Kings, was written in the fourteenth century in Ge’ez, a language now only used by the Ethiopian Orthodox Church, but closely related to Amharic and Tigrinya. There is also a rich history of poetry being used to convey news and information, as well as provide historical record. Among the Somali and Afar people of Ethiopia, as well as the Amhara and others, there is a substantial literature exploring the politics of poetry, almost as a precursor to mass media (Barnes, 2006; Gelaye, 1999; Maknun & Hayward, 1981). And as I have written elsewhere, considering this poetry, or voice more generally, also offers insight into how contemporary speech and media is regulated (Stremlau, 2012, 2013b). Looking backwards also helps us to understand the culture of communication and how, at least initially, media was understood by political actors and audiences as part of the early nation-building projects. The following two sections on Ethiopia and Uganda do not pretend to be comprehensive media histories, and nor do they offer the scope to delve into the rich poetic and oral traditions mentioned earlier. They do, however, provide a selective background and grounding that is helpful to interpret current developments by the NRM and EPRDF to shape the media. In the case of Ethiopia, much of the media Between Authoritarian Politics and Free Expression 25 during the period known as the Student Movement in the 1960s and 1970sis captured in Chapter 3 and not included here, because this period coincided with the development of the TPLF’s propaganda and the period it launched its guerrilla insurgency, while in the case of Uganda, the period of highly active student publications occurred prior to the NRM’s war, so it is discussed here.

ethiopia

As Emperor Menelik II expanded his rule into non-Amhara areas in the late nineteenth century, he facilitated the introduction and use of communications technology as part of an effort to centralise power by connecting Addis Ababa with the different regions (Gartley, 1982). The first telephone, for example, was established between his finance office and the imperial palace, and the first telegraph was used between Harar and Addis Ababa. This priority of promoting the media and new information technologies to consolidate power domestically is different to the later approach to statesmanship by Emperor Haile Selassie, who emphasised the use of communication technologies for connecting Ethiopia internationally. The earliest newspapers (as is true across much of the continent) centred on religious texts and, particularly in the case of Eritrea, news for and by the colonial 8 power, in Italian. The paper Aemero, established in 1902 by a Greek and meaning ‘intelligence’, is credited as being the first Amharic language newspaper in Ethiopia. 9 The first copies, of which there were only twenty-four, were handwritten. While Aemero was certainly not clear of government control, an editorial on 11 March 1907 suggests that the paper did aspire to some sort of independent editorial policy: ‘[S]ince its very origin, the paper has maintained a non-partisan stand and does not promote the interest of any one group. This freedom is used to serve the country and not to publish anything I like.’ (Bonsa, 2000). Some have even suggested that by the mid-1930s, Aemero was acting as ‘a reactionary or opposition organ to the Regent’s papers’ (C. F. Rey, quoted in, Pankhurst, 1962). Nevertheless, demand for the paper was initially slow and mostly driven by the government as part of a modernisation process. In 1923, as part of this broader process of modernising the state, Haile Selassie established Berhana Salem (‘light and peace’) printing press, which still operates today and is the major printer in Ethiopia. Since its founding, Berhana Salem has been responsible for printing books, newspapers and government gazettes. In the

8 Publications such as Corriere Eritreo, founded in 1891, and L’Eritreo and Bollettino Officiale della colonia Eritrea, founded in the following years, were also available in Ethiopia. Several papers in French also appeared contemporaneously in Ethiopia at the turn of the twentieth century, including the Bulletin de la Leproserie de Harar, which soon became Le Semeur d’Ethiopia, was published in Harar by the French Franciscans and was edited by the priest. The paper was mostly in French with a few items in Amharic. See (Pankhurst, 1962). 9 Though Gartley suggests there were only twelve (Gartley, 1982: 92). 26 Media, Conflict and the State in Africa same year it opened, a paper bearing the name of the press was printed. It is estimated that by 1925 there were at least three weekly papers published in Addis Ababa: Aemero, Berhana Salam and Courrier d’Ethiopie, and ten years later, around the time of the Italian invasion in 1936, there were seven printing presses in Addis Ababa and at least an equal number of newspapers, four of which were in Amharic, two in French and one in Italian. With the invasion and occupation by Italy, the newspaper industry ceased to expand and existing publications were suspended and replaced with the production and distribution of fascist propaganda. In some places, such as Harar and Jimma, printing presses were destroyed or taken over by the occupying forces. Whatever slight budding of independent papers that had begun in Ethiopia was almost com- 10 pletely replaced with propaganda published in both Italian and Amharic. Since there was no space for dissent within Ethiopia, a number of vibrant and influential publications were established abroad to challenge the fascist occupation. These were primarily published in English and were intended to galvanise international support against the Italian occupation and improve understanding of the Ethiopian people and cause. The most famous of these publications was the New Times and Ethiopia News, which was published by Sylvia Pankhurst, a well-known British suffragette leader who later moved to Ethiopia and became a close confident of 11 Haile Selassie. Pankhurst used strong rhetoric and propaganda centred on the anti- fascist struggle. Although she was usually responsible for writing most of the articles in the weekly magazine, it soon developed a pan-African role, as its articles were reproduced in countries from South Africa to Nigeria and it hosted contributions from emerging leaders such as Kwame Nkrumah and Jomo Kenyatta (Interview: Richard Pankhurst). After regaining control of Ethiopia, Haile Selassie went about significantly trying to expand the newspaper industry, both to reap the powers of propaganda and to use it as a tool of modernisation. The radio, in particular, was a new tool for his empire, and for the first time many of his subjects were able to hear his voice. The ideas Haile Selassie held of a central, powerful state grew as he was able to communicate directly with remote parts of a vast and mountainous country. The government also set about expanding the press, establishing, for example, Addis Zemen, which was published weekly by the Ministry of Pen, later to become the Ministry of Informa- tion. Addis Zemen was followed by its English counterpart, The Ethiopian Herald,in 1943. Both of these papers continue to be published today by the ruling EPRDF. One of the first editorials in Addis Zemen outlined its objectives to explain to the people about what they should do for ‘their country, for their king and for His

10 Including titles such as Corrier dell’Impero, Corrier Eritrea, Somalia Fascista, and Ye Qesar Mengist Meliktagne, among others (and in some cases imported from Italy such as Difesa della Razza). 11 In 1956, New Times and Ethiopia News became Ethiopia Observer, which was published by Sylvia Pankhurst in both Ethiopia and Britain. Between Authoritarian Politics and Free Expression 27 government. Its duties are defined in three terms: truth, service and freedom.’ (Bonsa, 2000). At this time, the media was regarded as an important tool for asserting and publicising the Emperor’s power and resurgence after the occupation. While the media infrastructure did not receive the intensive international interference that many of its colonised counterparts did, there was still substantial financial assistance from the United Kingdom and United States for purchasing equipment, training journalists through organisations such as the Thompson Foun- dation, and sending North American and British journalists to work temporarily in Ethiopia. The Ethiopian Herald, for example, was established in 1943 and was first edited by Ian Simpson from England who was praised for bringing ‘editorial elegance’ and ‘writing to a new level of excellence’ (Wolde-Mariam, 2003). Most significant, however, was the American interest in Ethiopia, both strategically and 12 sentimentally. Because Ethiopia successfully resisted colonisation, a number of African Americans took a particular interest in the country and travelled to Addis Ababa ready to assist. David Talbot, an African American, took over the position of 13 editor-in-chief of The Ethiopian Herald in 1945 and stayed until 1960. During this period, several other key positions were also held by African Americans and, according to Yacob Wolde-Mariam, a journalist at The Ethiopian Herald at the time, the paper became ‘a mirror image of its American counterparts, particularly on issues of international relations’ (2003: 73). In the 1960s a number of Americans served as advisors to the government and the Ministry of Information, even starting a short-lived magazine called the Addis Reporter, which was critical of some of the government’s policies. If the African American connection helped foster an emotive link, Cold War considerations helped establish a strategic interest. The United States Information Service (USIS), the American Embassy and the Peace Corps were all involved in shaping the media. A representative from USIS, for example, would regularly visit The Ethiopian Herald and bring news and reports the agency thought should go in the paper. Peace Corps volunteers were also involved through either submitting their own articles or training journalists to write articles that were favourable to the American way of life or the ‘free world’. And the US Ambassador would have regular ‘fireside chats’ for Ethiopian journalists where the US position on issues would be explained. Some local journalists went so far as to refer to The Ethiopian Herald as the American Herald for its strong connections and pro-US leanings (Wolde-Mariam, 2003: 92).

12 In 1943, the United States established a military listening station, Kagnew, in Eritrea. It was one of the most important intelligence bases for the United States during the Cold War and was a reason why the United States supported the incorporation of Eritrea into greater Ethiopia, as they believed that this station would be more likely to continue its important operations with the loyal support of Haile Selassie. The station was closed in 1973. For more information and stories from those that were stationed at the base, see www.kagnewstation.com/. 13 William Steen, another American, brieﬂy edited the paper for a year after Simpson. 28 Media, Conﬂict and the State in Africa

Transnational networks were further built, as selected journalism students were sent abroad by the Emperor to study and help establish a foreign-educated intelligentsia that would modernise his bureaucracy. Many of these journalists went to the United States and returned supportive of the American political agenda. But they also returned with new ideas about journalism and political reform. Negash Gebre Mariam, for example, studied journalism at Montana State University and returned to take up a position at the Ministry of Information in 1953. He was one of the first editors of the government’s Amharic language paper, Addis Zemen,and,inan environment where pre-publication censorship was mandatory and the paper was aimed at glorifying the Emperor and explaining his policies to his subjects, Negash struggled to implement the ideals of journalism he had learned in America. Under Haile Selassie’s rule, Addis Zemen and The Ethiopian Herald, like Radio Ethiopia, were also dominated and controlled by priests. Negash thus had to struggle with a staff that was largely comprised of ‘priests who spent most of their time glorifying the Emperor’ (Interview: Negash Gebre-Mariam). The Orthodox Church felt so strongly about the power the news media could have over the population that they even argued that they should be given the power to completely run the radio station (Gartley, 1994: 649–654). The February Revolution of 1974 that swiftly overturned the Emperor, disbanding the feudal system and monarchical structure and replacing them with the Derg, a military regime led by Mengistu Haile Mariam, led to a new media system. Where Haile Selassie’s Ethiopia looked to the West and was heavily influenced by Britain and the United States, during this period there was a clear shift eastwards and to the Soviet Union. As Mengistu consolidated his power and revolutionary excitement took root on university campuses, student papers flourished. In some respects this period is analogous to what is often referred to as ‘the golden age’ of Ugandan journalism, the period immediately after colonialism in 1962. The partial lifting of censorship under the Derg encouraged a vibrant press as witnessed in the pages of Democracia, Labader, Struggle, Goh and Ye Sefiw Hizb Dimts that contributed to debates on democracy, class interests, governance and economic development. The majority of the papers at the time primarily catered to particular political groups and sympathisers. But these publications did not survive long, as Mengistu’s attitude towards the independent press eventually proved harsher than Haile Selassie’s. Private media were largely eliminated, although a few survived by operating clan- destinely from abroad. Like Menelik and Haile Selassie, Mengistu was concerned with the nationality question and prioritised Amharic as a solution for dealing with the country’s diverse population. Establishing Amharic as the language of unity and education was a major priority for the Emperor and something for which he sought to harness the power of the media. While this agenda was less articulated than the more precise and central objective of projecting a positive image of the Emperor within Ethiopia and to the outside world, using the media for education and fostering a united sense Between Authoritarian Politics and Free Expression 29 of ‘Ethiopianness’ was a project that was continued more explicitly and earnestly under Mengistu (Gartley, 1982). Journalists that stayed on at government media from Haile Selassie’s rule were ‘re-educated’ and expected to shift their discussions from the Emperor to the Derg’s political agenda with a focus on class analysis befitting the Derg’s socialist agenda. Perhaps most surprising, though, is the degree of continuity that tied the two regimes together. Negash Gebre-Mariam, head of Ethiopian Radio at the time, recalls that,

The existing problems, they continued to exist. Instead of saying the Emperor has done this and that, it was the Derg has done this. They would come and tell you in the ofﬁce, now look, you are following different ideology. This is socialism, no longer feudalism, in socialism, we give importance to the proletariat, to the peasant and you have to say that the government is being run by the proletariat now ... Some of the programmes they didn’t change, like the musical programme, except they added slogans and ... some political jingles. They also used to have a discussion club. Every week, in some places even more, a government ofﬁcer would come and talk to you about what socialism is, what its principles are, how the people live ... what the role of the rich is. (Interview: Negash Gebre-Mariam)

The change was not in the methods but largely in the model. Rather than going to the United States, students began going to the Soviet Union for further education and to learn how the media worked there. Similarly, Russian journalists would come to Ethiopia. Negash describes the change:

The Russian ofﬁcials used to make speeches when they were invited to come. They were not teachers to teach you Russian journalism. During Haile Selassie’s time there were trainers ... some people who’d come from the United States mostly [which] would send 4 or 5 people for 6 months – one person teaches how to be a reporter, and other how to write commentary ... and on ethics. But the Russians, they didn’t come in and do this thing, they simply made speeches. (Interview: Negash Gebre-Mariam)

The international training programmes had different emphases but those who travelled to Soviet states or states in the Eastern Bloc would typically be on extended study trips, often for several years, which would allow them to earn a master’s degree, and learn Russian, political economy, Marxism and Leninism. Soviet patronage, however, did not compensate for Mengistu’s damaging policies towards the press at this time and the media suffered significantly. The Red Terror, which saw more than half-a-million people killed, did much to dissuade journalists from acting on their own initiative. While opposition media did exist, including the media associated with the guerrilla struggle (explored in significant depth in the next chapter), the first ninety or so years of the media’s history in Ethiopia, from the launch of 30 Media, Conflict and the State in Africa

Aemero to the transition to the EPRDF, can be seen as highly restrictive and relatively stunted by the state.

uganda

Similar to the situation in Ethiopia, as common across the continent, there is a rich tradition of orality and performance in Uganda. This has been documented by some scholars (although it remains a gap in the literature), who have focused on the role prayer has in affecting policymaking and public discussion, often privileging and empowering certain sectors of society over others (Bompani, 2016; Knighton, 2006); or the role of storytelling and theatre in conveying news and information, particularly about development (Breitinger, 1992; Mushengyezi, 2003). When it comes to the mass media, it was missionaries and churches that started the first newspapers 14 in Uganda, although this did not hold for long. In 1900, Mengo Notes, a newsletter by the Church Missionary Society, was published, and seven years later another newsletter, Ebifa mu Buganda, appeared in Luganda, and was later published in English in the late 1950sasNew Day. Munno, another religious publication, was started in 1911 by the Roman Catholic White Fathers, and became the longest running published paper in Uganda as it only ceased publication in the 1990s 15 (Gariyo, 1994: 410). The first commercial paper was the Uganda Herald, founded in 1912. Published three times a week in English, it was aimed at Europeans and planters. The paper tolerated a relatively vigorous debate, including with African correspondents, on issues of land, education, labour and wages. There were also the beginnings of a debate on the existence and legitimacy of the colonial order. Daudi Bussedde, for example, one of the most influential commentators at the time, used the paper to launch his campaign on behalf of the Bataka, the former ruling class in Buganda, over land appropriation. In the 1920s the political press came into its own and was driven by a few strong intellectuals such as Bussedde, who became the first editor of Sekanyola (started in 1920), a Lugandan monthly that was the first paper to be owned and edited by Ugandans. It was published in Nairobi by a group of Bugandan clerks, teachers and printers who were critical of the ruling Bugandan chiefs for having agreed to accept the British protectorate government in exchange for land. From the outset Sekanyola sought to be different from the church papers, focusing instead on ‘African grievances’ which were neglected in the press. For the most part, the British colonial government was uncharacteristically tolerant towards the publication

14 In 1902 it changed its name to Uganda Notes. 15 Munno remained largely apolitical until the 1950s when more vigorous political commentary emerged and continued throughout its publication. It maintained a diverse readership due to its large national network of priests that provided information from across the country, a strength that other papers lacked. Between Authoritarian Politics and Free Expression 31

(Scotton, 1973). Charges were brought against the editors but the colonial justice, Guthrie Smith, argued that he did not want to cripple or discourage ‘such a laudable enterprise as a Native newspaper’ and in making this argument applied a classic British justification of the importance of a free press in a democratic society to a colonial society (Scotton, 1973: 219). A more anti-colonial and militant African press emerged towards the end of the 1920s and early 1930s, and by the 1940s several independent organisations that were opposed to colonial rule were also involved in publishing newspapers to put forward their arguments. Growing pressure on the Buganda Government from the intelligentsia and increasing tensions between the colonial regime and the Buganda government led to a series of grievances and demands made by the Kabaka, including a date for the self-governance of Uganda. The colonial government responded by forcing Edward Muteesa, the Kabaka, into exile until 1955; the anti-colonial newspapers vigorously condemned this action. This move, however, also galvanised the intelligentsia into pressuring for transformation of the civil service, a campaign which papers such as the Uganda Times, established in 1956, led (Gariyo, 1994). During the late 1950s, greater divisions within the press appeared as the struggle for independence intensified. Nationalist politicians often based their factions on religion or ethnicity and used newspapers to advance their agendas. The Uganda National Congress (UNC), led by Milton Obote, was particularly adept at using the press to advocate its political agenda. Emambya Esaze attacked the colonial regime and advocated a pan-African agenda. African Pilot published similar articles demanding immediate independence. The Catholic Church, which supported the Democratic Party (DP), used the press as a way to further its interests and leveraged its vast organisational network. Through papers like Munno, as well as the West Nile Catholic Gazette, Lobo Mewa and Agetereine, the Church attempted to divide the nationalist struggle further along religious lines by warning voters against the non- Catholic parties (Gariyo, 1994). It is difficult to assess the contribution of the press in the run up to the first general election. It was divided and exacerbated factional tensions. The intelligentsia and middle class, who were the nationalists, used the media to advocate for their immediate goals and desires, which were often different from those of the peasant and working classes. The political agenda diverged from the economic one and was clouded and distorted in the press, as it was often each faction just seeking to remove the colonialists to pursue their own privileges. Within this environment the media entered independence and the post-colonial period. The trends of the 1940s and 1950s when the press was dominated by the Church, political activists and politicians, continued to some degree, but almost all of the papers that had appeared during this period faded by the mid-1960s. In 1962 Uganda gained independence and Obote became prime minister (as this was the first period Obote ruled Uganda, it is usually referred to as the Obote I government). Obote’s first government enabled sufficient political space for some 32 Media, Conflict and the State in Africa of the continent’s most dynamic magazines to emerge like Transition (which was based at Makerere University, at the time one of the best academic institutions on the continent). Transition was founded in 1961 after Rajat Neogy, a Ugandan of Indian ancestry, returned to Uganda from his undergraduate studies at the Univer- sity of London. This magazine characterised the enthusiasm and optimism of the times. Transition drew on other examples of vibrant African publications addressing the process of decolonisation, including Drum in South Africa and Black Orpheus in West Africa. The combination of literary commentary and political writing was, however, a new approach for a magazine on the continent. Neogy emphasised that the present was a time for social integration and the acceptance of all races – European, African and Indian. The first few issues focused on the topic of race. But soon articles started focusing more on themes such as the relevance of the one-party state to African democracy and the role of liberation parties, with contributions submitted by prominent figures such as Julius Nyerere (Vazquez, 1997). Within a few issues Transition became highly influential across the continent and a platform for debate and discussion, enabling a forum for communication between Africa’s intellectual and political leaders. Wole Soyinka, Nadine Gordimer, Chinua Achebe and Ngugi wa Thiong’o, as well as American writers such as Martin Luther King Jr., James Baldwin and Langston Hughes, all contributed influential pieces. From the beginning, the future President of Tanzania, Benjamin Mkapa, was an associate editor and contributor. Transition flourished until Obote imposed a state of emergency in 1966 until 1968, during which time the Ugandan press declined steadily; journalists were imprisoned and tortured and the media was restricted. Obote’s state of emergency mirrored trends elsewhere with ominous signs of political repression across the continent, including the coup against Kwame Nkrumah and the Biafran War in Nigeria, which did not bode well for the future of publications such as Transition that were continent-wide forums for debate and dialogue. In the thirty-second edition of Transition there were several articles directed at the Ugandan government that struck closely at Obote. Two articles particularly irritated the government: the first was by p’Bitek, who noted that ‘the most striking and frightening characteristic of all African governments is this: that without exception, all of them are dictatorships, and practice such ruthless discriminations as to make the South African apartheid regime look tame’ (As quoted in Vazquez, 1997,p.11). The second, by long-time Uganda nationalist Abubukar Mauyanja, even received a direct response from the head of Obote’s secret police. Mauyanja argued that Obote’s new constitutional proposals were ‘illiberal, authoritarian, and dictatorial ... They provide for the concentration of excessive, autocratic, and dangerous powers in the hands of one man’ (As quoted in Vazquez, 1997,p.11). Soon after this, Transi- tion ceased publishing, with the last issue dated 18 October 1968. The government had been growing increasingly autocratic for years so the closure of the magazine and arrest of Neogy on sedition were no surprise. When Neogy was released from Between Authoritarian Politics and Free Expression 33 prison, he moved to Ghana (where Kofi Abrefa Busia had recently been elected) in an effort to continue publishing. However, when Busia’s government was overthrown in 1972, Neogy decided to relinquish control of the magazine to Wole Soyinka rather than risk another round of incarceration and persecution. The magazine survived in this form until 1976 when it folded, only to be re-launched by Henry Louis Gates Jr. and Kwame Anthony Appiah in the United States in 1991 16 (Vazquez, 1997). Another major blow to Transition under Neogy’s stewardship came from abroad. Unbeknownst to Neogy, the Paris-based Congress for Cultural Freedom, that had been financially assisting the magazine, was in fact receiving funding from the Central Intelligence Agency (Rubin, 2012; Saunders, 1999: 334). While some critics of Transition had all along seen the magazine as indicative of American liberal democratic ideology, in contrast to a communist one, this confirmed suspicion that the contributors were pushing an agenda. Nevertheless, the legacy of Transition was an important one and certainly inspired later generations of African journalists and writers. As Soyinka commented, Transition was ‘Africa’s first forum of intellectual and artistic eclecticism’ (Soyinka, quoted in Tabaire, 2007: 196). And importantly, it engaged governments and politicians. This engagement between the press and politicians set a precedent that later emerged during Museveni’s time, when journalists and society expect politicians to respond both to and within the press on criticisms and government policy. The pan-African spirit and dialogue of Transition came to an abrupt end when, after seizing power in a military coup in 1971, Idi Amin ushered in the ‘dark days’ for Uganda in almost every way – including for the media. One reason Amin publicly gave for seizing power was that Obote did not respect freedom of expression and Amin proclaimed he would re-establish a space for the independent media. While he suspended much of the constitution, he did initially retain the portion about freedom of expression and the press. Amin even established a School of Journalism. The new Attorney General argued that the previous government had fallen because it had stifled the expression of opinion such that it ‘ceased to be in touch with the needs and aspirations of the people’, arguing that ‘Uganda’s journalistic history is at a turning point’ and that the previous government only tolerated reporting that it wanted to hear, which led to dull reporting (Ssekeba, 2006). Despite the public proclamation and these efforts, Amin ultimately took the press in a very different direction. Amin soon took over the role of Minister of Information and banned all newspapers for ‘a certain period or indefinitely’ (Interview: Ben Bella Ilakut). The journalists at

16 Wole Soyinka serves as chairman of the editorial board. The magazine draws on the tradition of Transition and publishes on international issues ranging from poetry to politics. As stated on their website, there is a strong focus on contributions from people of colour. See www.transitionmagazine.com. 34 Media, Conflict and the State in Africa the Voice of Uganda became government employees and were ordered to print every word of Amin’s speeches. By 1973 the few British journalists that remained were quickly ordered to leave the country and the last independent papers were closed. The editor of Munno, Father Clement Kiggundu, was murdered, and the government shut down the paper. The People was also closed for not following the strict guidelines of Amin’s propaganda campaign. Journalists that continued to operate during this period can be described as ‘the survivors’, similar to the journalists under Mengistu. Like their Ethiopian counterparts, many of these journalists were trained overseas and highly qualified. Ben Bella Ilakut was a prominent journalist during this period. In the following extensive excerpt from his oral history, of which the length is essential in doing justice to understanding the difficulties typical of his generation, he describes his experience as editor-in-chief of the government paper, the Voice of Uganda, under Idi Amin:

I was the editor-in-chief, but I ran into a lot of problems because ... what we call the splash, the main story in the newspaper, was all about Idi Amin. And if you made any other story the main story in the newspaper, you had a lot of problems. My colleagues fled. Some of them were killed. Others just disappeared. We didn’t know where they went. So it was very, very trying during Idi Amin’s time. The Uganda Argos became Voice of Uganda. It was nationalised either in December or in November ‘72 when the announcement was made that we have gotten rid of the imperialists and we have taken over and the Uganda Argos’ new name is Voice of Uganda, the voice for Ugandan people to speak out here. We didn’t know at the beginning [what it meant] but if you have a rough idea about Ethiopia, you know what it means to be ruled by a military dictatorship. We didn’t. Obote had become intolerable so people welcomed him [Idi Amin]. [In 1974] I was now the full editor of Voice of Uganda. These were very critical times between Uganda and Tanzania because Obote was living in Tanzania, and Idi Amin was always talking against Tanzania and President Julius Nyerere ... So one day, the main story had come from the Ministry or from the office of the President (they used to send stories direct from the office of the President and then we were not supposed to edit anything, you had to put it the way it had been). So ...the story came and in the morning there was a bit of an error saying that Idi Amin yesterday raped Nyerere. We liked to use the word rapped – R-A-P, means to criticise, to attack, but when it was in the ... in the past tense, you have to have double P, rapped. If you have single P, it means raped. So the story came out that Idi Amin yesterday raped Nyerere. My God! Somebody drew Idi Amin’s attention to the spelling. They said that you raped Julius Nyerere! So he said, what does that mean? They said you slept by force with another man called Julius Nyerere. My God! They say ... go and get the editor NOW. That was between five and six in the morning. So they came to my house not very far from here [in Kampala], and I’m not married at that time, so they knocked at the door and when I looked I saw some people peeping, and they had caps, the army caps. I had a girlfriend who had Between Authoritarian Politics and Free Expression 35 come the previous day and she said, ‘I think we are in trouble’. I said, ‘Can you go and open the door, and if they ask for me, you say I’m in the bedroom’, so she went and opened the door, and then they said, ‘we want Ben Bella, is he around?’ She said ‘yes, he’s inside, you know, he’s still sleeping’. ‘Tell him to get up, the old man wants to see him’, meaning Idi Amin. So she came and whispered this to me. So I told her ‘go and tell them that I’m going to take bath’. But they said ‘he should not take bath he should get dressed right now’. So I dressed in a white suit and a white tie, and black platform shoes. At that time the fashion was platform shoes, you become taller. I’d just come back from the United States remember so I came with a number of pairs of shoes ... I was more or less a teenager, although I was some thirty years old, and I liked a bit of fashion. So I wore these things and there were nine cars that escorted me to the office of the President. So we went. We were using a lift to go to the fourth floor, there were only two lifts: one for the President, the other for the regular people. So we were in the big lift and we went in. And I was passing by the secretary’soffice, and I saw somebody who knew me who was my teacher in secondary school. So he asked me in my language, ‘what is the problem?’ Before I could answer, Idi Amin was at the door. Idi Amin was dressed in old medals and an air force cap. When I entered the office of the President there were only two people. Idi Amin and another man, the hatchet man. The one who’d shoot at you without ...producing a word, without shutting his eyes. So when I looked and ... a thought ran through my mind that I think I’m in trouble. So when I arrived he said, ‘you are the editor?’ I said yes, ‘I’m the editor of Voice of Uganda’. ‘Thank for you for the appointment’, I said quickly. He said ‘you are in trouble’. I said, ‘what trouble?’ because I have not read the paper. It was too early, we used to send copies later for me to look through. He said, ‘now you’re saying that I raped Nyerere’. I said ‘no, not raped, it should be rapped. It is a mistake if it is rape’. He said... ‘look at what you say’, they had underlined the word ‘raped’. So what they did was they got a low stool, and they put the newspaper there. I think they had organised it as they were coming for me, but just put the newspaper on a low stool and then as I was looking started shouting at me at the top of his voice. ‘How can you say that I raped Nyerere? You think I have got four wives and so many others all the Ugandan women are my wives, and you say that I raped Nyerere?’ So he is now here. So he is Idi Amin, the most feared man in the whole world, talking to me, Ben Bella, alone, while the other guy at the other corner is the hatchet man, the man who shoots at anybody. He killed the Archbishop at that particular time of Uganda. Who else have they killed in the office of the President? So I remained there, I could not get up, because Idi Amin was there. How can you get up with a killer hovering over you? So I remained like this for roughly one hour. But I was there and then it clicked that this means you ...might not leave this place alive. Then the old stories of people being killed in the office of the President were in my mind. I thought I heard Idi Amin laughing over me because, remember I’ve got two Masters degrees from abroad, very high qualifications those days in Uganda. He was a guy who went to only one year at school. He went to ...primary school, a year, never went anywhere beyond one year. The other guy is toying with the gun. 36 Media, Conflict and the State in Africa

I thought I’m dead. So ... there is a connection between stress and your bowels, then I had diarrhoea. My stomach turned. I tried to squeeze myself so that I did not ... release myself into the white suit ... Remember I’m wearing a white suit! Then after some time it passed open, there was nothing I could do now, it was diarrhoea. And it came into these platform shoes over the white trousers, and when you have diarrhoea, you must also pee, it was a combination of these things. So I was like that for one hour. So he now told me that you can go, but I did not hear it, because my brain ... during the torture so I could not hear anything. They have told me, you can now go, but I did not hear. Then he touched me, and I fell, the glasses ﬂew, because I thought the bullet had hit me ... I thought I saw Idi Amin laughing at me like a wizard. I think it was a part of the torture. Yes. I will never forget that. (Interview: Ben Bella Ilakut)

Upon leaving Amin’soffice, Ben Bella quickly fled to Kenya, where he worked for some time at the Standard. He has since returned to Uganda and is currently a trainer at The New Vision, where he teaches in the journalism department at Makerere, sharing with his students his impressions of what it was like to work under Amin and Obote. It was not until 1979 that the independent press re-emerged in a meaningful sense. The period immediately after Amin’s government was chaotic, with a number of coups until the elections of December 1980 that Museveni claimed Obote stole and gave as one reason for going back to the bush. Just three days after Amin was thrown out of office, the Uganda Times, a continuation of the Voice of Uganda, was published. Many of the civil servants from the Voice of Uganda remained in their positions but members of the new government replaced much of the editorial staff. According to most informants, and the observable improvement of press freedoms, the second Obote period was not as bad for the media as Idi Amin’s days. A number of political papers began publishing in support of different factions. The Economy and its sister, the Luganda weekly, Mulengera, for example, emerged to support the post-Amin administration but were soon banned. Similarly, The Citizen, an official publication of the Democratic Party, was started to support the party’s political campaign. While The Citizen was banned after the elections, Munnansi, which included both English and Lugandan articles, re-emerged and survived. Ngabo was one of the most well-known papers that started right after Amin was overthrown and managed to persevere through the Obote government. Ngabo was started solely by journalists and was the leading paper for a number of years. In 1984 Drake Ssekeba, a journalist who returned from self-imposed exile in the United Kingdom to become one of the most prominent journalists during this period, started The Star in English. Both The Star and Ngabo were strongly associated with the Kabakaship (Interview: Drake Ssekeba). It was, however, during this period that a number of the journalists that were to become most active under the NRM first started working in the media or became re-engaged (as was the case for Ssekeba). Between Authoritarian Politics and Free Expression 37

Similar to Ethiopia, the media in Uganda from the early 1900s through the late 1980s experienced periods of occasional opening but with often dramatic closures (such as during Idi Amin’s time). The openings, however, such as the period when Transition flourished, were highly significant, not only for Uganda but for the continent as a whole. The experiences with vibrant media, critical debate and public dialogue have undoubtedly been important in sensitising citizens to the potential role of media and politics (as indicated by the high regard that Ugandans have for the role of media in governance that was reflected in the Afrobarometer survey).

conclusion

The political, demographic and historical context described in this chapter suggests the importance of appropriately locating comparative work. In the 1970s, when outlining a framework of media and political variables to understand the development of media systems, Jay Blumler and Michael Gurevitch posed a fundamental problem in comparing communication systems by suggesting that researchers are unsure of what to look for and what is relevant to be compared (Blumler & Gurevitch, 1995: 62). This challenge continues today. Although further efforts have been made at developing understanding of comparing media systems through case studies, much of it remains rooted in the United States or West. While there are some indications that this is slowly changing, comparative research has mostly been extended to Central and Eastern Europe and in Asia, and much less so Africa. The framework and approach adopted in the next several chapters is empirical and not normative. Rather than comparing media to an ideal model (typically a Western one), the comparative approach in this book seeks to show media and politics on their own terms and according to their own logic. It provides insight into the role that media is actually playing in society, how and why it has developed to play the particular role it has and how it relates to other social and political aspects of the state. This type of broad comparative analysis is challenging and not straightforward. By focusing on Ethiopia and Uganda and avoiding the development of typologies, I hope to steer clear of some of the political pitfalls that other comparative studies have faced. The next chapters focus on Ethiopia and Uganda, systematically comparing the inﬂuence of ideas, institutions and interests.

part i

Ethiopia

The Emergence of an Ethiopian Developmental Model

When Meles Zenawi passed away in 2012 after ruling the country since 1991 (first as head of the transitional government and then as prime minister since 1995), a country that had grown used to the enigmatic rule of its longstanding leader was suddenly faced with big questions. Would there be a smooth transition to Meles’ selected successor, Hailemariam Desalegn, or would the EPRDF descend into infighting and fracture? Would the EPRDF’s stated commitment to Revolutionary Democracy and to Meles’ theory of the democratic developmental state continue to guide the government’s nation-building strategy? However, as the EPRDF secured a landslide victory in the 2015 election, capturing 500 of the 547 seats (the remaining seats were acquired by parties allied to the EPRDF), Hailemariam has had some success in consolidating continuity of rule. With the EPRDF electorally secure, Meles’ political ideas have not only continued to permeate all aspects of Ethiopian politics, but have arguably become even more influential in guiding the country since his death. A central tenet within the EPRDF’s explication of Revolutionary Democracy has been political (re-)education, a stress which has become increasingly pronounced since the 2005 elections, as the EPRDF has sought to meet widespread protests with a quick restoration of order. Befeqadu Hailu, a member of the ‘Zone 9’ blogger collective was imprisoned in the notorious Awash 7 prison in 2016 with more than a thousand other young people following the protests that began in Oromia state against the expansion of Addis Ababa. Befeqadu eloquently described the type of political education that was part of his detention, writing that his experience of ‘training’ in the prison was based upon themes such as how ‘Ethiopia’s external enemies’ (e.g. Egypt and Eritrea) have attempted to ferment a ‘colour revolution’ by encouraging student protests, a selective reading of Ethiopian history and lessons on how the EPRDF met ethnic, religious and cultural challenges through the current constitution. Again and again the overwhelming benefits of Ethiopia’s system of

41 42 Media, Conflict and the State in Africa governance were constantly restated and accentuated by drawing unfavourable comparisons with the liberal democratic model (Hailu, 2016). Befeqadu’s account of his time in Awash 7 is testament to the fact that in the wake of Meles’ death there has been a collective party effort to continue to articulate and implement the ideas of Revolutionary Democracy. At the same time, the party has strategically endeavoured to cultivate something of a personality cult around Meles and his political ideas. Nationally, even years after his passing, large posters and billboards continue to carry his face in major public spaces such as Meskel Square in Addis Ababa, and his picture is widely seen in state offices and schools. These pictures invariably portray Meles as a benevolent leader whose example and legacy continue to chart Ethiopia’s developmental path. Reminiscent of traditional twentieth-century Communist propaganda, this messianic iconography often has Meles literally pointing the way forward with his hand and finger outstretched, leading the masses or benevolently surrounded by children. A ubiquitous presence in Ethiopian public life, Meles’ writings and ideas continue to permeate policy-making debates, are regularly cited in parliament and have infused teachings at government institutions such as the Ethiopian Civil Service University. Outside of Ethiopia, Meles’ writings have shaped and influenced a continental debate on balancing the demands of democracy and development. His approach to the democratic developmental state has been held up as a model by people such as President Paul Kagame of Rwanda, who has expounded at length on what he sees as the importance of this theory for the continent. In 2015, Kagame argued that Meles ‘rejected the false choice between the state and the market’. ‘Every developed economy, without exception’, Kagame went on to say, ‘is the fruit of a free market, and a strong developmental state, working in tandem. The orthodoxy of shrinking the state to the bare minimum, and replacing it with externally funded non-state (here you can say NGOs), left Africa with no viable path out of poverty’ (Kagame, 2015). In a similar tone, speaking as the head of the African Development Bank, Donald Kaberuka argued that the developmental democratic state is ‘another form of governance model for leaders in Africa to emulate’ (Kwibuka, 2015). This chapter takes seriously Meles’ and the EPRDF’s ideological formulations as it assesses the implications it has held for political practice in Ethiopia. Just as it was argued that defining and dismissing Museveni simply as an autocrat precludes more interesting discussion, this chapter explores the roots and development of the EPRDF’s contemporary political thought and its impact on shaping the current media system in particular. With its roots in student politics, the EPRDF has been one of the most ideologically conscious governments on the continent, and while its approach to speech and media in practice often appears to be complex and contradictory, it is heavily influenced by the party’s nation and state-building agenda. The chapter proceeds by locating the young ideological musings of EPRDF as it was formed during the Tigrayan People’s Liberation Front’s (TPLF) struggle against the Derg and explores how concepts from this time such as ethnic federalism and The Emergence of an Ethiopian Developmental Model 43

Revolutionary Democracy have been brought together under the rubric of the developmental democratic state. Further, the chapter explores how this emerging ideology was applied by the TPLF to media and propaganda in their ﬁght against the Derg, with lessons that continued to shape EPRDF policy and state-building into the 1990s and 2000s.

the emergence of the tplf’s ideology

In 1969, a young Marxist student activist, Walleligne Makonnen, at Haile Selassie I University (now Addis Ababa University), wrote a provocative article in the student publication Struggle, entitled ‘On the Question of Nationalities’. This essay not only called for a revolutionary war against the imperial regime of Haile Selassie, but also framed this clarion call around ethnicity, arguing that every ethnic group should have the right to self-determination and secession from Ethiopia:

Is it not simply Amhara and to a certain extent Amhara-Tigre supremacy? Ask anybody what Ethiopian culture is? Ask anybody what Ethiopian language is? Ask anybody what Ethiopian music is? Ask anybody what Ethiopian religion is? Ask anybody what the national dress is? It is either Amhara or Amhara-Tigre!! To be a “genuine Ethiopian” one has to speak Amharic, listen to Amharic music, to accept the Amhara-Tigre religion, Orthodox Christianity, and to wear the Amhara-Tigre Shamma in international conferences. In some cases to be an “Ethiopian” you will even have to change your name. In short to be an Ethiopian, you will have to wear an Amhara mask (to use Fanon’s expression). (As quoted in Gudina, 2006) Walleligne’s article proved a crucial turning point in what has since become known as the Student Movement of the 1960s and early 1970s, a defining period in Ethiopian history, during which politically active students, primarily at university but also secondary schools, debated and engaged issues around democracy and socialism (Balsvik, 1985; Zewde, 2010). Emperor Haile Selassie’s response to this unprecedented flowering of speech was predictably harsh: censoring all student publications and targeting student activists. However, while Haile Selassie, who claimed Solomonic lineage and a direct ordination from God, was considered by many internationally to be a hero for his resistance to colonial rule, and even as the returned Messiah of the Bible by Rastafarians, the regime he embodied struggled to maintain legitimacy, often appearing out of touch with the lives of ordinary Ethiopians. After Haile Selassie was overthrown by the Derg in 1974, educational spaces continued to be a locus of opposition politics, developing into the core of the widespread dissent that grew in response to the brutal repression and poverty that marked the Soviet-backed Derg’s rule. Student politics at this time tended to advocate a strong Marxist-Leninist ideology, favouring the experiences of Bolshevik 44 Media, Conflict and the State in Africa

Russia and Maoist China, as well as the lessons of Ho Chi Minh and Che Guevara above the increasingly reform-minded Soviet Union. Within this framework, debates centred mostly on land rights and what Vladimir Lenin called the ‘national question’, focusing upon self-determination and the right to secession. These debates inevitably led to different factions amongst the students and many believed that class interests had to form the basis of the struggle. Conversely, under the Derg’s pretence of promoting national unity that merely shrouded a harsh centralisation and consolidation of power, there was a proliferation of regional and ethnic-based 1 liberation movements. The TPLF was born in this context (Fukui & Markakis, 1994; Young, 1997). In 1974, a group of seven university students came together in a small café in Piazza, the central commercial district in Addis Ababa, to form the Tigray National Organization (TNO). To announce themselves, the students produced a declaration, embedded within which was one of the future rallying calls and fundamental features of TPLF policy: the rights of nations and nationalities to self-determination. The document stated:

The strategy of the movement is the formation of a democratic Ethiopia in which the equality of all nationalities is respected; a national armed struggle should be waged that would advance from the rural areas of Tigray to the urban areas; and the movement should be led by an urban-based organisation known as the Tigrayan National Organisation (TNO) until such time as the armed struggle could begin. (Berhe, 2004) Almost immediately, the TNO devoted itself to preparing the Tigrayans for the anticipated insurgency. This included cultivating a leadership class among high school students, teachers and other prominent people within the community so that all followers would be well versed on the ideological underpinnings of the armed struggle. The recent histories of successful guerrilla movements in Algeria, Eritrea, Cuba and China were used to illustrate these lessons and the outreach efforts of the TNO were complemented by increasing levels of dissent among the Tigrayan peasantry. Tigrayans had long felt persecuted by central government and often expressed their marginalisation through invoking an exceptional and idealised history. Tigray, which traces its origins to the Kingdom of Axum in the third century AD, has been regarded as one of the world’s earliest and most dynamic civilizations, with its own script, number system and calendar. The Kingdom adopted Orthodox Christianity in 340 AD, and the current city of Axum claims to be the birthplace of the Queen of

1 It is a similar feeling of neglect and mistreatment by the central government that is presently fuelling a number of ethnically based insurgency movements across the country from Oromia to Gambela to the Ogaden. The Emergence of an Ethiopian Developmental Model 45

2 Sheba as well as hold the Ark of the Covenant. By the seventh century, however, Axum was losing its capacity for central control, facilitating the emergence over the following centuries of local kingdoms that vied, often violently, for supremacy. It was not until the mid-nineteenth century that Kassa Hailu, later crowned Emperor Tewodros, from Gondar (also in northern Ethiopia but in the Amhara region) established some semblance of a unified Ethiopian state. Kahsay Mircha from Tigray, crowned Emperor Yohannes, succeeded Tewodros in 1872. Both these leaders pursued a programme of political centralisation and sought to base the legitimacy of their rule upon the legacy of Axum. Nonetheless they struggled to consolidate power and bring peace and stability. Local wars raged, international interventions were a regular occurrence, and because of its strategic location in the north, Tigray bore the brunt of these conflicts while at the same time being affected by a number of devastating famines. The situation in the north was thus already trying when Menelik II came to power in 1889 with a strong modernising and centralising agenda, a mantle taken up by Haile Selassie I in 1930 after Menelik II died in 1913. Both Menelik II and Haile Selassie I prioritised their own Amhara-Shewa regions as they embarked on extensive efforts to centralise power and weaken the authority of local nobles and authorities. Little investment was made in addressing the suffering occurring in the Tigreyan region. In 1942–1943, the Tigreyans revolted in 3 an event commonly known as the Woyane. The revolt registered some success in the beginning but the subsequent intervention of the British Army on behalf of Haile Selassie, and particularly the aerial bombardment of Mekelle by the Royal Air Force, proved too great a challenge for the Tigreyans and the revolt soon broke down. Thousands of civilians died and the Tigrayans were punished harshly for their perceived disloyalty; land was confiscated and passed to those allied to the central government, and the government imposed a heavy tax on all citizens resident in the area. After the Woyane, the situation in Tigray continued to decline, with a significant outward migration as people left in search of better conditions. At the same time, resentment towards the state’s practice of systematic ethnic discrimination grew and the legacy and legend of the Woyene became a rallying point for the ethno- nationalist sentiment the TNO eventually targeted. Small rebellions by armed

2 Orthodox Christianity has changed little in Ethiopia over the years and some academics have argued that this has had a profound impact on political development. The Church in Ethiopia, for example, still does not accept the Hippocratic Oath but rather believes that Christ was of both man and God. 3 The Woyane was largely a peasant movement demanding an end to state interference and seeking relief from what they saw as unfair treatment from the central government. It did, though, also contain dissident nobles who supported it, looking for a greater share of state power. The Woyane has since become associated with the TPLF and is often used in a derogatory way on social media to reflect what critics refer to as the dismantling of the Ethiopian state (or, as the EPRDF would put it, the policy of ethnic federalism). 46 Media, Conflict and the State in Africa groups opposed to the national government continued to occur and this history of central government neglect and resistance tragically culminated in the 1973–75 famines that severely affected half of Tigray’s population (Sen, 1981: 86–112). Haile Selassie’s government callously ignored the devastation, not only in Tigray but also across much of the country, while favouring the Amhara. This coldly calculated use of famine for political capital continued under the Derg during the infamous famine in Northern Ethiopia in the 1980s Tigrayan students who had the opportunity to study in Addis Ababa could not but help compare first-hand the situation in their home region with the living standards enjoyed in other parts of the country and were increasingly convinced that the situation in Tigray was the most dismal. The groups these students formed, including the Tigrayan University Students’ Association (TUSA) and the TNO, were primarily focused on debating political ideology and mobilising intellectuals and students in Tigray. Their commitment to a dynamic role in the effort to overthrow Haile Selassie’s regime was driven by concerns of Amhara cultural hegemony, environmental degrad- ation, as well as social and political problems in Tigray (Berhe, 2004). But despite the Tigrayan students’ clear commitment to their region and developing sense of ethno-nationalism, the debates among the students were far from parochial in their concerns. Debates in these spaces were also a site of contestation between the Soviet Union and United States. In the Cold War climate both the superpowers actively sought to recruit student leaders, provide political literature and offer opportunities for study abroad. Unsurprisingly, in this competition Marxist- Leninist writings resonated with the elements of class struggle and multi-nationalism that the students were grappling with more than liberal theories of democratic reform. Students would return from their travels with books by Marx, Lenin and Mao, among others, including a publication entitled the Handbook of Elementary Notes on Revo- lution and Organization that helped to inform local discussion groups and the emerging student media (Zewde, 2010). However, this was not just a period of ideological rumination. Beyond providing a gestation period for future ideas, it also provided some of the first practical lessons in propaganda for the future TPLF leaders. Initially, there was relative tolerance of free expression on university campuses, and student publications served as a forum for arguments that were critical of Haile Selassie’s government. This situation was partially attributable to the arrival of African scholarship students from across the continent. Many of these students had some experience with critical and vibrant student publications in their own countries and set about encouraging similar publications at Haile Selassie I Uni- versity. In 1959, for example, a Kenyan scholarship student, Omogi Calleb, started 4 the first outspoken student publication, Campus Star. Campus Star challenged both the state and the inertia of the public, arguing that the student body was too

4 The first student magazine was published in 1952, but was soon discontinued through lack of interest (Balsvik, 1985: 71). The Emergence of an Ethiopian Developmental Model 47 apathetic. At the time, the publication of such a trenchant publication surprised most Ethiopian students, who were concerned about how to negotiate the line between criticism and insult where criticism of someone’s ideas easily slipped into being perceived as an attack on the individual (Blasvik, 2005: 74). Outsiders more easily challenged these prevailing norms. The cultural sensitivities around criticism of authority were a major impediment in the development of nonofficial student publications that could cover current affairs. The Campus Star did not last long and was closed by the authorities, but the official student-run newspaper on campus, the Newsletter, accepted critical writing in its section, ‘news and views’. Even so, this had limits. The Newsletter frequently deferred to the authorities, and the publication was undergirded by the belief that a free and unregulated press would lead to chaos (Blasvik, 2005). It was not until the Union of the University Students in Addis Ababa (USUAA) published Struggle magazine in the late 1960s that students really began supporting autonomous publications with real political debate. Providing an idea of the political tenor of the late 1960s, Struggle stated its place as being ‘responsible for the political education of the masses’ (Balsvik, 1985: 178). The publication encouraged dissent against Haile Selassie’s government and carried key articles that spurred the student movement, including the aforementioned article by Walleligne Makonnen ‘On the Question of Nationalities’. Following Struggle, the number of publications carrying radical and dissenting voices grew and these proved a significant factor in cultivating support for the February 1974 revolution (Markakis & Ayele, 1986: 103–116). Most of these publications were aligned with particular ethnic or political groups. In Addis Ababa, for example, TUSA established two newspapers, Etek (To Arms!) and Dimtsi Bihere Tigray (Voice of the Tigrayan Nation) (Berhe, 2004). In addition, TUSA joined with other Tigrayan organisations in leading a clandestine political awareness campaign that included disseminating their ideas through leaflets, songs and discussions, both within Addis Ababa and Tigray. Following the establishment of Mengistu Haile-Mariam’s Derg regime, newspapers such as Democracia, Labader and Goh were initially allowed to continue publishing. However, Mengistu soon clamped down on radical student literature and the publications that continued to operate were forced underground.

the politics and practice of the guerrilla struggle

On 18 February 1975, the TNO was relaunched under the TPLF name in Dedebit, western Tigray. The history of the beginnings and early leadership of the TPLF is contested, with accounts placing different emphasis on the importance of particular individuals within the leadership (Berhe, 2009; Hammond, 1999; Young, 1997). That there has been room for these different accounts in large part reﬂects the organisational makeup of the TPLF. In an effort to combat the tendency prevalent 48 Media, Conﬂict and the State in Africa

in many guerrilla groups to develop a strictly hierarchical structure (one that would have been complementary to the hierarchical society of the highlands in Ethiopia), there was a conscious effort made not to create a cult of personality around any one individual. For example, during the early years, there were regular peaceful transfers of power between leaders, including between Sebhat Nega and 5 Aregawi Berhe. However, while Meles was not part of the initial core group that launched the TPLF, he quickly captured the ideological centre of the movement and, in so doing, propelled himself to the dominant leadership position, securing the post of Chairman of the Executive Committee in 1983. Effectively articulating the widespread grievances present in the region, and initially underestimated by the authorities as the Derg focussed on insurgencies 6 elsewhere, the TPLF gained an early momentum throughout the countryside. But the Derg’s response was not long in coming and schools were closed down, populations forcibly moved to the south and cases of indiscriminate killings were reported. These actions only helped fuel support for the TPLF, though, and, just as harsh and repressive actions against the Ugandan population aided the NRM’s strategy, the Derg’s response helped the TPLF recruit new members. Furthermore, the fact that the staunchly atheistic Derg also sought to undermine the Church did not sit well with the devoutly Christian population in the north. In contrast, the TPLF managed to successfully incorporate priests into the TPLF framework and ﬁlled the gap in educational support structures by establishing new schools in rural areas that not only educated the peasants but also allowed a forum for teaching the TPLF’s political ideology (Young, 1998: 39–40). The TPLF’s success with the local population also stemmed from their decision to facilitate a certain degree of self-governance for peasants through mass associations. Drawing on examples from China and Vietnam, the TPLF placed the role of mass associations at the core of its revolutionary project. These associations were primarily based on interest groups such as women or youth. While the central task of the associations was to raise consciousness about the struggle rather than to implement policies, they were a crucial component of rural governance for the TPLF. Relatively autonomous from the TPLF, the associations were gradually

5 Sebhat Nega was the son of a lower noble. Aregawi Berhe was the son of an influential judge. 6 The Derg initially saw other insurgency movements as a bigger threat, including the Ethiopian Democratic Union (EDU), a group that received support from the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) as well as the Sudanese and Saudi governments. The EDU articulated similar grievances as the TPLF but was more conservative and had a feudal orientation. The TPLF fought the EDU in the west in the late 1970s and suffered serious defeats, which forced the TPLF to develop, both militarily and politically, through an analysis of their failings. The TPLF then had to fight the Ethiopian People’s Revolutionary Party (EPRP) in the east. With funds from students in the diaspora, the EPRP was wealthier than the TPLF but was not successful in ingratiating themselves with the peasantry, partly because of their conduct, but also because of their position supporting a multi-ethnic Ethiopia rather than the more national approach that the TPLF articulated at this stage. See (Young, 1998: 39–40). The Emergence of an Ethiopian Developmental Model 49 complemented by baitos, or elected people’s councils, which were established after provisional administrative councils had gained enough experience. This occurred usually after a couple of years of guidance by the TPLF. The baitos were responsible for providing recourse to justice and administrative structures, and were governed by a constitution (sirit) and village keeper (kodere). The relationship between the baitos and the TPLF leadership was typically medi- ated by the TPLF militias that also served as local police. While the baitos were portrayed by the TPLF as independent, they were not wholly autonomous. Looking back, former TPLF leader Aregawi Berhe, for example, considers the baitos to have reflected a mechanism for increasing control and coercion, a step that signified a trend away from persuasion towards ensuring the implementation of the TPLFs orders, laws and directives (Berhe, 2009: 282). Leaving to one side the debates on the TPLF’s true motivations for engaging with the peasant population, it is important to note the range of activities they involved themselves with. Experts in agriculture, education and medicine would explain to villages how they could improve standards in their area, and, significantly, these efforts were often couched in a pragmatic rather than ideological framework. Acutely conscious of this distinc- tion (although it was later criticised by Meles, who argued that the TPLF lost its way in the 1980s as it failed to follow ‘scientific theory’), the TPLF referred to the pragmatic approach as ‘empiricism’. As Fetlework Gebre-Egziaber, a female fighter who was active in mobilisation during the struggle described it, empiricism was the ‘idea to practice first rather than just disseminating ideology’. She noted, ‘we were not using theories to explain to people. We had to act first to show them’ (Interview: Fetlework Gebre-Egziaber). Women in the TPLF were able to participate freely on the front and serve as fighters – one of the few guerrilla groups where this was allowed. One prominent example of the strategy of empiricism was the establishment of the Relief Society of Tigray (REST) in 1978, founded in response to the Derg’s restrictions on humanitarian and economic assistance to areas controlled by the rebels. The deliverance of tangible and concrete benefits and reforms to the peasant population was an essential part of the TPLF’s strategy to convince the peasantry that they had more to gain by joining the struggle than not. The establishment of REST set out to achieve this ambition, but REST also helped the TPLF cultivate international relationships and external funds. As many government and international aid organisations were unwilling to directly fund an armed front, but willing to engage with local development organisational work, REST proved an effective way to manipulate foreign patrons to enhance the TPLF’s organisational abilities and grow their finances. Highly effective in producing tangible development outcomes, REST succeeded in ‘winning the hearts and minds’ of the local communities (Young, 1997). Despite Meles’ pronouncements to the contrary, the TPLF’s emphasis on practice can continue to be heard in the language of the EPRDF today. In recent 50 Media, Conflict and the State in Africa elections, rather than issuing grand ideological proclamations, the EPRDF has emphasised the party’s success in achieving high rates of economic growth and increased provision of services, such as schools or medical care, to win support. This attitude is similarly evident in the government’s approach to the private and government media as the party has often failed to publicly defend or explain policies, or engage with critics, arguing that the results or effects of policies (e.g. the deliverance of concrete benefits) should speak for themselves. The often-tempered politics of the TPLF as expressed through empiricism could also be witnessed in the group’s evaluative system. Called gimgema, this system was inspired by Maoist ideas of self-criticism and rooted in concepts of class struggle as a way to ‘eliminate ideas that don’t benefit the revolution’ (Vaughan, 2011: 628). Gimgema was also a critical tool to assess the effectiveness of the party’s relationships to the community while fostering greater accountability between the TPLF and the peasants (Young, 1998). This process, which often occurred weekly or even daily, was at least in theory a mechanism for ensuring discipline and punishing wayward behaviour within the TPLF’s ranks while allowing some feedback and evaluation of the leadership. Gimgema was seen as a way of building trust within the TPLF and fostering some degree of equality and voice. Gimgema, however, was also used as a tool for consolidating power and purging those seen as disloyal or who held alternative viewpoints. During gimgema sessions, participants were often compelled to publicly admit mistakes and there was pressure to self-incriminate, including expressing doubts about official policies. Gimgema continues to be practised to some extent within the EPRDF, and is often used as a tool for the EPRDF to maintain loyalty among regional officials and satellite parties (Kefale, 2013: 157). From strategic initiatives such as REST or gimgema, the focus of the TPLF clearly rested on the peasantry. During the struggle, fighters were careful not only to lead an existence similar to that of the people they were fighting for, but also to treat the local population with the utmost respect. Befitting their attachment to Marxist-Leninist thought, there was a strong emphasis on egalitarianism and within the ranks there was no personal property. The TPLF believed that it was essential for the success of the party to demonstrate their commitment and political ethos by living and working with the peasants, sharing in their hardship. As one of the fighters involved in the TPLF’s propaganda campaign recalled in a recent interview with the author:

One of the habits of the struggle was that nobody says ‘me’ ... You don’t know anything about private property ... there is a jacket here, when you are cold you wear it. And when someone brings something we don’t ask where it came from. There is no house, nobody’s been using a house, there is no money, nobody says, this is my money or that’s my money. Nobody says this is my food, not your food, and nobody says this is my writing not your writing. Nobody thinks in terms of ‘me’ ... (Interview: Amare Aregawi) The Emergence of an Ethiopian Developmental Model 51

The impoverished conditions the solders lived in and their commitment to high standards of personal behaviour was notable and helped define the party positively in the eyes of many, even casting warm reflections on the party in the post-war period. Alfred Taban, a journalist from the Khartoum Monitor, a Southern Sudanese paper, 7 was one of the journalists invited by the TPLF to witness the struggle first-hand. Taban, who was also involved with the Sudan People’s Liberation Army (SPLA), a guerrilla struggle in Southern Sudan, was able to offer this comparative perspective:

Because of the bombings we were traveling at night ... We found a small town at 2am where they said we should sleep. It was very cold. They threw us some blankets. [I said] are you going to sleep here in this cold? [They said] yes it is very late so we cannot wake up these people at this time of the night. I was shocked because my only knowledge of guerrillas was not like that. They were people that would throw away any people at any minute [at] will. Take the SPLA; they wanted the best things for themselves at the expense of the citizens. (Interview: Alfred Taban) Again, the legacies of this period live on and even today the government continues to regard the peasantry as its core constituency. In a draft of his Master’s Thesis started in the early 1990s at Erasmus University, Rotterdam, that is available online, Meles emphasised the need for a political coalition to be ‘ﬁrmly based on the rural base’ and that ‘includes the vast majority of the population ...[to] guarantee continuity ...[and be] a solid base for a state that is both democratic and developmental’ (Zenawi, 2006). In the aftermath of the contested elections in 2005, rather than turning to those that were supporting the opposition in the cities, the government focused its efforts on a large-scale campaign for the support of peasants in the countryside. This has led to a swelling of the party’s membership. Before the elections, the EPRDF had 600,000 members; now there are more than seven million, reﬂecting a broader strategy of mobilisation and control (Lefort, 2015). It is important, though, not to overstate the TPLF’s attachment to horizontal decision-making and broad-based participation. While REST and gimgema were sincere initiatives to promote these principles, the TPLF was also built around the Leninist organisational principle of democratic centralism and the group’s leaders carried an often-unbending interpretation of Marxist-Leninist thought. In 1985,a select group of senior members within the TPLF established the Marxist Leninist League of Tigray (MLLT). Known as ‘leading elements’, the TPLF had held ideological groupings in their structures before. However, in order to provide stronger ideological guidance and concerned that the central tenets of the movement were

7 This visit was of strategic interest for the TPLF, since the SPLA in Southern Sudan was an ally and provided access through Sudan to all fighters and visitors who were entering Tigray. Jenny Hammond was another journalist who was also invited to the TPLF-controlled region. She went on to write an extensive book chronicling her experience and that of the revolution, see Hammond (1999). 52 Media, Conflict and the State in Africa threatened by dilution as the TPLF grew, Abbay Tsehaye, Meles Zenawi and Sebhat Nega came together to form the MLLT. Viewing themselves as orthodox defenders of Marxism-Leninism and the ‘vanguard party for the TPLF’, they used their leading roles within the MLLT as a way to consolidate broader power over the direction of the TPLF. This Machiavellian function of the MLLT proved particularly controversial. In Medhane Tadesse and John Young’s analysis, Meles used the MLLT as a vehicle ‘to pursue his leadership aspirations’ in a way that allowed him to extend control over the Political Department, the Foreign Mission and the Military Com- mittee (Tadesse & Young, 2003). Certainly, Meles’ role as the presiding ideologue during this time left a firm imprint on the identity of the party and provides a much- needed context to understand the centrality of Revolutionary Democracy and Meles’ conception of the developmental democratic state in the 1990s and beyond. The responsibility for propagating the MLLT’s teachings fell to a cadre school, of which Meles was made the head. At a time when Mikhail Gorbachev was experi- menting with the ideas of glasnost and perestroika in the Soviet Union, the teachings of the cadre school focussed somewhat anachronistically upon translated materials from the Stalinist-era, covering issues such as democratic centralism and the appli- cation of the Marxist concept of the dictatorship of the proletariat (Berhe, 2009). However, given the TPLF’s fight against the Soviet-backed Derg, these older Soviet ideas were relevant in a way that the reform agenda of Gorbachev could not be. Further, these ideas provided a bridge that allowed the TPLF leadership to express admiration for Enver Hoxha’s communist regime in Albania. The TPLF particularly seized upon the Albanian state’s arguments that the Soviet Union was ‘social imperialist’ and an enemy of the oppressed (Fourie, 2015). Amazingly, Albania’s place as a model for the future Ethiopian leadership even managed to endure the fall of the Berlin Wall as Hoxha continued to be admired in the 1990s for his resolute and independent stance and a Marxist framework that subordinated concerns about human rights beneath issues such as the right to food, shelter and work. In this account of how the TPLF sought to develop mechanisms during the struggle for practising and expressing their political ideals, we now turn directly to how the TPLF invested heavily in using the tools of radio and magazines to pursue a programme of cultural propaganda. Targeting various audiences, including elite party ideologues, fighters, peasants, and the Ethiopian diaspora, the TPLF’s engagement with these more traditional mediums provided valuable experience and a precedent for how the EPRDF came to approach government media and media policy when they had control of the state institutions. Communications were central to the work of no less than four departments of the TPLF: the Department of Propaganda (responsible for the printed media and radio), the Department of Culture (responsible for mobilising the population through songs, poetry and plays), the Department of Mass (Civic) Organization (responsible for organising public meetings at the village level) and the Socio-Economic The Emergence of an Ethiopian Developmental Model 53

Committee (concerned with issues of agriculture, health and education, among others). In addition, departments such as the Department of Foreign Affairs also had a strong media and communications agenda. Of these departments, the Propaganda Department, headed by Abbay Tsehaye (head of the Political Committee) with Meles Zenawi as his deputy, was most closely tied to the ideological development of the TPLF. Newspapers and magazines were the first mass media used by the TPLF to publicise their wartime activities. During the struggle, a variety of TPLF pamph- lets and newspapers were published, including Ittek (Get Armed), Niqah (Be Conscious), Tegadel (Struggle) and Woyyeen (Revolt). These played an active role in conveying the TPLF’s ideology. The publications were produced by the Propa- ganda Department, but TPLF-run schools and hospitals would also sometimes have their own publications (Interview: Aberra Tensai), and magazines such as STORM were also published in the diaspora. While these publications were important for the leadership of the TPLF in communicating domestically, regionally and internationally, slogans, poetry and songs were essential for reaching the largely illiterate Ethiopian peasantry. Musi- cians and artists were actively recruited by the TPLF’s Department of Culture. To avoid the threat of air raids, these TPLF troupes would visit villages in the evening and call on villagers to collectively rise up. Featuring revolutionary and nationalist songs, poems and plays, the evening events were regarded as an effective tool, particularly for involving and recruiting youth, women and children in the struggle. As Aregawi Berhe described, during a typical sequence of events, the cultural troupe would be introduced by the mass organisation cadre responsible for a particular area who would open the event by narrating the achievements of the TPLF and the defeats of the Derg. This individual would then lead the community in passionate chants, including ‘our struggle is long and bitter; our victory is definite!’ and songs such as Kiltsim hafash (Forearm of the Masses), Aawot n’witsue (Victory to the Oppressed) and Zeyhilel Kalsi (Irresistible Struggle) (Berhe, 2009: 123). Radio was another means by which the TPLF sought to connect to a largely illiterate population. Broadcasts initially began in 1979 using the Eritrean Peoples’ Liberation Fronts’ (EPLF) ‘Voice of the Masses’ radio station three times a week for half-an-hour. Soon after, with financial help from Tigrayans in the diaspora, the TPLF started its own station, ‘The Voice of the Revolution’ (also known as Dimtsi 8 Woyane Tigray). The station was initially launched by a team led by Debretsion Gebremichael, who the TPLF had sent to Italy to receive training in communications and technology before returning to the struggle. (At the time of writing,

8 In the early 1990s the TPLF radio split into Radio Fana (the Amharic service, which began broadcasting from Addis Ababa as the EPRDF party radio), and Radio Woyane Tigray, which remains based in Mekele and, while listed as a private station, is the TPLF’s radio broadcaster in the region. 54 Media, Conﬂict and the State in Africa

Debretsion is currently the Minister of Communications and Information Technol- ogy.) From the its base in Tigray, the station had a reach across much of the country, eventually gaining clear reception in Addis Ababa and parts of Southern Sudan. Originally broadcast in Tigrinya and Amharic, Oromiffa was later added in an effort to reach those outside the liberated areas. Running a media operation in the bush was extremely hazardous, and like much of the TPLF’s prized and portable infrastructure, the radio station and printing presses were protected within caves and frequently moved to avoid detection. Amare Aregawi, one of the key individuals responsible for the communications during these wartime years and later the ﬁrst head of Ethiopia Television under the EPRDF, described this challenge and the innovative techniques employed by the TPLF:

You wouldn’t say [the radio station was] portable, but we made it portable ourselves. Whether it was by donkeys or camels it had to be portable. For example, we had two transmitters and (I don’t think that the Cubans or the Russians even understood it) when there was a big campaign coming, [the Derg] would gather some information through personal spies or maybe technology, where the radio waves are coming from, so they would target that area to destroy the radio station...We would turn off one of the transmitters and we would move it to a very safe place somewhere else, where we would plan to go when the enemy comes...So when that one stops, the other one starts in a different location. When the enemy comes, they think that they are hitting the radio station, but after the operation they realize that the radio still works. They think they were wrong, but they were not wrong, it was there. Sometimes we had a problem with the antenna. So for example in the Simian Mountain station area, there are some very long straight hollow plants, so we had to put the antenna inside those plants. So out of 1,000 plants, it is very difﬁcult for the enemy to know in which plant the antenna is. (Interview: Amare Aregawi)

The broadcast content was primarily propaganda, focusing on the brutality of the Derg and their persecution of Tigrayans, including the restrictions placed on local languages. Information on party conferences was also broadcast and in the spirit of empiricism, many radio programmes focused on development initiatives such as agriculture, literacy, numeracy and basic medicine.

bridging ideology and state-building: the politics of constitution-making

In early 1989, as victory over the Derg seemed increasingly likely, the TPLF formed a union with the Ethiopian People’s Democratic Movement (EPDM), the Oromo Peoples’ Democratic Organization (OPODO) and the Ethiopian Democratic Officers’ Revolutionary Movement (EDORM). The resultant group The Emergence of an Ethiopian Developmental Model 55 was the EPRDF and in 1991, after nearly two decades of struggle, the EPRDF successfully seized Addis Ababa. After assuming power, the EPRDF quickly had to reconcile its promotion of Tigrayan ethno-nationalism with its control over the Ethiopian nation-state. The capture of the state required new strategies to demonstrate that all the components of the ethnically diverse country, not just the Tigrayans, would be represented. One way the EPRDF immediately sought to address this challenge was through advancing a far-reaching approach to ethnic federalism and by recognising the right to self-determination for all major ethnic groups. This approach was first substantiated in the Transitional Charter of 1991 and subsequently in Ethiopia’s Constitution, adopted by the Transitional Government at the end of 1994, which came into force 9 in August 1995. The pursuit of ethnic federalism reflected the ideological debates that the TPLF had held during the Student Movement and during the struggle. Drawing from Joseph Stalin’s 1913 essay, ‘Marxism and the National Question’ and the practice of the Stalinist system, the TPLF used as its basis Stalin’sdefinition of a nation as ‘a historically evolved, stable community of language, and territory, economic life and psychological makeup manifested in a community of culture’ and the right to secede if there is any interference in the life of the nation, including violations of ‘its habits and customs’ or repression of the nation’s language (Stalin, 1942). At a time when not only had Stalinism been widely discredited but also the credibility of Marxist-Leninist thought more broadly had been profoundly challenged by the fall of the Soviet Union, this approach was remarkably incongruent with the times. In public the EPRDF thus claimed to have abandoned such intellectual allegiances, reaffirming in the language of the day that Ethiopia was solidly on the path to democracy. However, as the next chapter will argue, the gulf between what the EPRDF publicly espouses and what is practised is significant, and the ERPDF and TPLF from the beginning demonstrated a clear reluctance to relinquish many of the old core ideas, including practices relating to the central control of the party and government. The right to secession was entrenched in Article 39 of the Ethiopian Constitution as part of a broader federalist system in which regions drawn along ethnic lines would be given greater autonomy and responsibility for economic development,

9 Article 2 of the Transitional Period Charter of Ethiopia (1991) states: ‘The rights of nations, nationalities, peoples to self-determination are affirmed. To this end, each nation, nationality and people is guaranteed the right to: (a) preserve its identity and have it respected, promote its culture and history and use and develop its language; (b) administer its own affairs within its own defined territory and effectively participate in the central government on the basis of freedom and fair and proper representation; (c) exercise its right to self-determination of independence, when the concerned nation / nationality and people is convinced that the above rights are denied, abridged or abrogated.’ 56 Media, Conflict and the State in Africa education and security. For those worried about the state’s impingement on cultural matters, the new constitution represented relief for many groups who now felt able to express their traditions openly by using their own language in schools, for example. Procedurally, the situation was more complicated. While the Constitution provided a formal process for secession, the process made it extremely difficult, if not 10 impossible, to achieve without the support of the central government. Despite the presence of a number of long-running ethnic-based insurgencies in the 1970s and 1980s that had also been fighting the Derg for independence, including the 11 Oromo Liberation Front (OLF), the Ogaden National Liberation Front (ONLF) and others, it was only Eritrea that was granted independence in 1992. This has proven highly contentious, as many Ethiopians viewed the process that led to Eritrea’s secession suspiciously as being the result of a predetermined arrangement that was decided during the guerrilla insurgency when the TPLF fought alongside the Eritrean People’s Liberation Front (EPLF). The EPRDF’s state-building vision has clashed with competing versions of history and imaginings of the future. The very concept of basing the state on recognition of different ethnic groups was perceived by the party’s adversaries as antithetical to the nation-building project of a single, unified Ethiopia, which had been promoted by previous regimes. In practice, the establishment of the ethnic federalist discourse at the political and social levels and provision, in the language of the Constitution, to ethnic groups of ‘equitable representation in state and federal government’ meant 12 the country was divided into nine regional states, each intended to represent ‘a group of people who have, or share, a large measure of a common culture or similar customs, mutual intelligibility of language, belief in a common or related identities, a common psychological make-up, and who inhabit an identifiable, predominantly contiguous territory’ (Constitution, Article 39, Para 5, 1994). These states were further split into woredas, units of approximately 100,000 people based upon the baitos administrative structures developed by the TPLF during the war.

10 Article 39 of the Constitution of the Federal Democratic Republic of Ethiopia (1995) states: ‘The right to self-determination, including secession of every Nation, Nationality and People shall come into effect: (a) when a demand for secession has been approved by two-thirds majority of the members of the Legislative Council of the Nation, Nationality or People concerned; (b) when the Federal Government has organised a referendum which must take place within three years from the time it received the concerned council’s decision for secession; (c) when the demand for secession is supported by majority vote in the referendum; (d) when the Federal Government will have transferred its powers to the council of the Nation, Nationality or People who has voted to secede; and (e) when the division of assets is effected in a manner prescribed by law.’ 11 The OLF is currently one of the most dynamic opposition groups in Ethiopia, though it is forced to operate publicly from the diaspora as it has not denounced the use of violence and still advocates armed struggle to liberate the Oromos. It is not recognised as an opposition party but is rather labelled a terrorist organisation by the EPRDF. 12 The cities of Addis Ababa and Dire Dawa were also granted administrative status. The Emergence of an Ethiopian Developmental Model 57

The woredas were in turn divided into kebeles, village councils representing grass- 13 roots units of government. In theory, this system meant that ethnic movements and groups were free to elect their representatives, and they were given a strong role in the administration of the country. But while well aware of how divided and fragile the country was after decades of war, the TPLF did not anticipate the extent of resistance to its political and economic vision and the difficulties in winning the country’s support. Not all groups who had fought the Derg were eager to join the coalition and many groups who did became disenchanted quickly and left, including the OLF. To ensure Oromo representation, the EPRDF created the Oromo People’s Democratic Organ- ization (OPDO), but in practice the OPDO simply served as an extension of the EPRDF in the region, rather than meeting the demands of the Oromo. The EPRDF’s approach to the Oromo was repeated elsewhere with the establishment of the Amhara National Democratic Movement (ANDM) and the Southern Ethi- opian People’s Democratic Movement (SEPDM). Together, these parties along with the TPLF and OPODO form what is largely a democratic façade, allowing the EPRDF to avoid real competition and create a de facto single party state. As a means of maintaining control, this has been an efficacious strategy: since Tigrayans are a small minority who fought a centralised government in part to overcome Amhara domination, a state with multiple ethnically based components would help justify control by a minority and shift the emphasis away from the Amhara character and influence (Turton, 2006). Decentralisation has long been an essential political tenant but the party also desperately needs to exert central control and has become reliant on ethnic federalism as a means to stay in power. Maintaining the façade that ethnic federalism had nothing to do with protecting the EPRDF’s power has proven difficult and the newly established ethnic parties have been widely dismissed as puppet organisations, while long-standing groups 14 such as the ONLF and the OLF have retained legitimacy among their followers. The ONLF’s and OLF’s repeated and frustrated calls for self-determination have evidenced the gap between the EPRDF’s support of principle and their desire to maintain power. The rapid expansion of the modern Ethiopian state in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries with the forceful and unlawful incorporation of

13 The kebele maintained the form of the village councils created by the Derg. 14 This de-legitimising or dismantling of local political organisations has also proved to be a common strategy in the government’s approach towards civil society. Prominent organisations that often had significant support and expressed reasonable criticism towards the government have been dismantled through the arrest of their leaders, threats towards members of their staff, or financial and/or infrastructural sabotage. Even when the organisations were not dismantled entirely, the EPRDF would establish in its place a group with a similar, if not identical, name. The new group would be closely tied to the government but attempt to act as a ‘stand in’,ina process that, at least at the beginning, often confused donor and aid organizations as well as the population. Some of the most prominent targets have been the Ethiopian Free Press Journalist Association, The Ethiopian Teachers Association and the Ethiopian Human Rights Council. 58 Media, Conflict and the State in Africa many on Ethiopia’s peripheries into the ‘empire’ has meant that secession continues to be seen as the only means of liberation from the ‘oppression’ of the Highland (namely the Amhara and Tigrayan) ‘colonisers’ (Gudina, 2006). The first post-Derg elections were held in 1992 and were intended by the EPRDF to legitimise the new political order by providing a popular mandate for the government and signalling a break with the autocratic past. However, the only two genuine opposition parties that were initially willing to participate soon dropped out of the running. The All Amhara Peoples’ Organization (AAPO) retreated due to harass- 15 ment and intimidation, and the OLF was outlawed for not renouncing violence. Subsequent elections, including for the constitutional assembly in 1994 and for the regional and federal governments in 1995, were similarly uncontested. In Ethiopia since the Derg (2002), Siegfried Pausewang, Kjetil Tronvoll and Lovise Aalen explain how during these elections, legitimate groups have systematically been denied victory in place of the preferred partner of the EPRDF’s choosing (Pausewang, Tronvoll & Aalen, 2002). Other ethnically based opposition parties, such as the All-Amhara People’s Organisation (AAPO), have chosen not to participate in the political process altogether and remain outside the EPRDF. The EPRDF hoped these elections provided a symbolic mandate, which, even if it did not emerge from genuine competition, supported their arguments for national and international legitimacy. The process of drafting the Constitution and determining the scope and dimen- sions of ethnic federalism has frustrated many Ethiopians, the elite in particular. Although the government established a Constitutional Commission to draft the new constitution and arranged ostensibly broad consultations with the public, the process was inadequate and rushed, and the consultations that took place were often more limited than had been hoped for. Feeding the media inadequate information, the government pushed its agenda past the concerns of Ethiopians and framed issues in such a way that those who were being consulted felt compelled to provide the answers the interviewers expected. This marginalisation was acutely felt in rural contexts, where concepts such as federalism were not clearly explained. As John Markakis argues, ‘there was simply no time to form a national consensus on the legitimacy of the new political system’ (Markakis, 2007: 58). Negasso Gidada, the Minister of Information in the Transitional Government, 16 was actively involved in efforts to raise awareness about the constitution. Negasso describes a process in which trained experts, with support from the local authorities,

15 The All-Amhara People’s Organization (AAPO) is one of the most vocal and active organisations agitating against the right of ‘self-determination’ and was deeply angered with the secession of Eritrea, accusing the EPRDF of dismantling the country. Despite invitations from the EPRDF, the AAPO declined to participate in the transitional government, the drafting of the constitution or any elections, arguing that the constitutional process was undemocratic and dominated by the TPLF. 16 Negasso later served as the president of Ethiopia before leaving the EPRDF. He currently serves as head of the leading opposition party, the Unity for Justice and Democracy Party. The Emergence of an Ethiopian Developmental Model 59 would organise public discussions to explain key issues and then provide the opportunity for participants to vote on them. Negasso admits, though, that there was a lack of participation by those who were not EPRDF supporters or members. He recalled that the participants were largely self-selected and were in many cases influenced by their local leaders. For example, in Oromia, the communities often turned to the OLF for guidance as to whether they should accept or reject certain policies or national leaders (Interview: Negasso Gidada). Many opposition groups and elites who felt excluded chose not to engage in the consultations, as they did not want to legitimise a process they perceived to be fundamentally flawed. Others felt that, similar to the secession of Eritrea, contentious issues in the constitution (including land and the federalist system) were not actually open to negotiation and were instead pre-determined by the EPRDF in backroom dealings. Such sentiments could sometimes be heard from within the Constitutional Commission itself. Meaza Ashenafi, an informal associate of the Committee of Experts, was present during some of the negotiations. He noted that despite lively debates and a diverse representation of interests and a desire to reach consensus, the EPRDF entirely dominated the process, particularly when it came to voting (Regassa, 2010: 102). In 1994, the British academic Christopher Clapham publicly expressed reservations regarding the ERPDF’s strategy, arguing that, while the opposition parties could be legitimately criticised for being divided and weak, they have ‘condemned the process of constitution-making in no uncertain terms. And there is no sign of a process of dialogue between the government and the opposition groups ... The constitution making process to the exclusion of these other powerful undercurrents would be as fruitful as worrying about the rearrange- ments of the deck chairs of the Titanic’ (As quoted in 22 December 1994, Press Digest at 4). As the next chapter will discuss, the failings of this process have meant that major fissures remain in the body politic and the process of constitution- making, and the constitution itself continues to be highly divisive today. 4

Purging and Politics

The Challenges of Institutional Transformation

Under the EPRDF, much of the political debate in Ethiopia has been marked by great tensions over competing and unreconciled visions of the country’s past and future. The ﬁssures came into stark relief after the 2005 elections, which saw thousands of protesters spill into the streets, angry with how the ERPDF was handling the results and, more recently, during the 2016 Oromo and Amhara protests that were triggered by plans to expand Addis Ababa. These protests and the underlying discontent they emerged from ultimately had their origins in the frustrations with the EPRDF’s state-building agenda since 1991. But the expression of grievances has also been inﬂected with the debates, divisions and alliances formed during the Student Movement and the military struggle against the Derg. The EPRDF, however, remains obstinate in the face of unrest and argues that it is mostly a narrow range of aggrieved elites and privileged groups who are now instigating these protests, frustrated by their loss of status during the EPRDF’s ‘fundamental restructuring of society’. In an interview, Bereket Simon, who served for many years as the communications minister and was a close advisor to Prime Minister Meles, explained the EPRDF’s relationship to civil society and the context of the EPRDF’s reforms within the triumphant liberal moment that attended the fall of the Berlin Wall:

Ethiopia passed through two types of autocratic governments [the imperial regime that ended with Haile Selassie’s overthrow in 1974 and the Derg] in which the political economy was based on using state power to grab land from the farmers. Political power was a source of wealth ... Both regimes were based on the domination of many nationalities and they both evicted farmers and then turned them into tenants. Seventy-ﬁve percent of the population was affected by a national oppression, which led to seventeen armed rebel movements ...Either you address it boldly ... or it disintegrates. After the EPRDF overthrew the military [Derg], Ethiopia and the world both thought that we had to move in a particular direction and that the democratic

60 Purging and Politics 61

avenue should be opened as well as pursued. We had a fundamental restructuring of society. We dismantled a command economy ... We introduced national equality, which is the only saviour of this country. We reorganised the society along new lines and confronted the national issue in a bold, progressive manner ... This radical restructuring has been a cause for some people to feel aggrieved. They felt that we’ve come to dismember Ethiopia ...They felt it a threat to the old Ethiopia. The old guards from the old status quo ... they used it to amass wealth but the old days are gone forever. (Interview: Bereket Simon) When forming governments and reforming existing institutions, the EPRDF has used these lines of division to marginalise what they have considered to be the ‘old guard’ or those that might hinder the new developmental project and its underlying ideology. While the EPRDF has worked to create effective institutions and in 1 some cases has been very successful (the Ethiopian Health Ministry, for example) it has failed to craft an inclusive transitional process or establish inclusive institutions. Despite the rhetoric of group rights forged during the Student Movement and the creation of a constitutional framework attuned to the concerns of different ethnic groups, the EPRDF has often viewed inclusivity as superﬂuous to the need to consolidate power. This approach to governing a politically and ethnically heterogene- ous population has challenged the effective reform of government institutions and threatened to undo some of the genuine transformations many ethnic groups have experienced since 1991. This chapter seeks to make sense of this approach and the EPRDF’s commitment to their programme in the face of opposition by extending the discussion of the EPRDF’s ideological underpinnings to design and reform the state. It begins by discussing civil service reform in the context of post-war reconciliation and the EPRDF’s commitment to Revolutionary Democracy that later became known as the democratic development state. It is within this setting that the chapter then considers the use and impact of government media on the development of the country’s media system. By retaining tight control over both media institutions and political messages from government media, the EPRDF have overseen deep media polarization and created a government media that has often appeared more provocative and antagonistic than conciliatory.

the restructuring of the state and the role of revolutionary democracy

Deeply wedded to an orthodox reading of Marxist-Leninist thought, the EPRDF faced an enormous challenge transitioning from a guerrilla movement to a national

1 For example, in 2005 the share of deaths of children under five was 123 per 1,000 live births. In 2011 this had fallen to 88 per 1,000 live births (The World Bank, 2013). 62 Media, Conflict and the State in Africa government as it sought to apply a particular theory of development and governance on a hugely diverse and weakened polity. In this transition, Meles, by building from his adroit positioning within the MLLT, proved to be the head architect of the EPRDF’s programme, often articulating his thoughts in publicly available documents (Zenawi, 2006). Meles relished playing this role of philosopher king and discussed his ideas at great length with a favoured coterie of intellectuals and academics (De Waal 2013). Meles was known for his ability to charm even the most technocratic minded of development experts from the World Bank and International Monetary Fund with whom he often vociferously disagreed. In a policymaking milieu of intellectual excitement, experiment and inexperience, the EPRDF’s efforts to reform different civil service departments was not uniform but, with Meles at the head, was always conducted under the broad rubric of Revolutionary Democracy. Much of Meles’ writings were concerned with critiquing the emergent neoliberal orthodoxy and outlining a theory of economic development which he considered the most important security priority. This approach supported an idea of democracy where there existed some scope for criticism but where the space for criticism was subservient to the need to achieve economic growth and contained within the framework of one-party rule. Meles saw room for debates within the developmental agenda but only so long as they did not emphasise contentious issues such as the 2 constitution or issues around secession, federalism or land. Echoing a longstanding tendency of Ethiopia’s leaders to emulate foreign examples (Clapham, 2006), Meles justified this one-party approach with reference to the histories of the Scandinavian countries and Japan:

The ruling coalitions in these countries have had regular, free, open and fair elections, and the basic political and human rights have been respected. They thus fully qualify as democratic regimes. But they have won elections repeatedly and have been in power for long-stretches. In the case of Japan the ruling coalition has been in power for almost 50 years. A critical issue is therefore can such a stable, democratic and at the same time developmental coalition be established in a developing country. (Zenawi, 2006) Through Meles’ use of these examples we can appreciate how consolidating single-party rule with the TPLF at the core of the EPRDF has been considered

2 While the system of land tenure has experienced dramatic changes in the past several decades, there was little change from Derg policies to the EPRDF. The present government still maintains a statist system, as the Derg did, that is characterised by the following: (a) Land is held by the government on behalf of the people; we have, in other words, state ownership of land; (b) Each household has only use rights over the land in its possession; (c) Land cannot be sold, mortgaged or transferred to others on a long-term basis. At present, the household may lease the land to others on a short-term basis; this was not allowed during the Derg; (d) In order to ensure rights of use over land, the land user has to reside in a rural kebele. A household cannot have access to land in more than one kebele (Rahmato, 2000). Purging and Politics 63 harmonious with the EPRDF’sown‘democratic’ vision to provide stability and continuity while allowing some space for debate. Simply stated, Meles argued that:

[t]here is every reason to suggest that if a developmental state were to also be democratic the “hegemonic” nature of its development project would be achieved faster and held more deeply because it would emerge from free debate and dialogue. (Zenawi, 2006) In practice, the task of balancing democratic accountability, free expression and the demands of development and retaining control has been far more difficult for the EPRDF. As the discussion on the constitution-making period in the previous chapter detailed, the EPRDF often falls back on top-down directives and a hierarchical structure. For some commentators, this tendency marks a continuation of Ethiopia’s deep-rooted political culture, embedded in and reproducing the hierarchical relations of Ethiopia’s dominant Highland culture (Vaughan & Tronvoll, 2003). As much as the TPLF sought to idealise the role of its fighters as engaged in careful deliberation of policies during the struggle, through the MLLT the TPLF was guided by an autocratic core leadership committed to a tightly developed ideology. This centralisation of power and priorities continued when the EPRDF assumed power. When the EPRDF has applied its ideas of the developmental state to civil service reform, the outcome has often been hard to predict, with clear experimen- tation in many cases and ministries making decisions without the knowledge or consensus of each other. An example of this disconnect was made manifest in the arrest of the Zone 9 bloggers in 2014. According to one blogger interviewed in Ethiopia, the arrests occurred at the behest of the Information Network Security agency (one of Ethiopia’s three key intelligence and security agencies) without the knowledge or approval of the Ministry of Communications, as one might ordinarily expect (Interview: Anonymous). Such competition between government agencies is not unusual and reflects significant divides within the party about how to best address critics. In a debate with Alex de Waal on the ‘Theory and Practice of Meles Zenawi’ in the pages of African Affairs, René Lefort wrote that the EPRDF lacked a systematic approach to developing a ‘powerful, competent and insulated bureaucracy’. Lefort contends that this has been a major oversight on the part of Meles and the EPRDF and a crucial weakness in the institution-building required of a developmental state (Lefort, 2013: 461). De Waal’s partial reply was his recollection of a meeting where Meles had argued that, ‘autonomy must be defined in class terms, not institutional terms ... A good civil service doesn’tdefine the developmental state. It is created over time’ (de Waal, 2013: 5). In some cases, such as Ethiopia’s Ministry of Health, there appears to have been true bureaucratic and effective reform that has been handsomely rewarded with large investment from international partners such as the 64 Media, Conflict and the State in Africa

British Department for International Development (DFID). But in other cases, including the Ministry of Information discussed later in this chapter, reform and institution-building has been deeply problematic. Amare Aregawi, the ﬁrst head of Ethiopian Television under the EPRDF, attributes these varying degrees of success to inexperience and recounts the internal debates that went on in the TPLF regarding future media strategy:

About two or three years before coming to Addis, we started talking, OK, we get Addis, what are we going to do with the media? Actually it was a discussion in every aspect. We go to Addis, what are we going to do about the bureaucracy? Does anybody know about the bureaucracy? We go to Addis, what are we going to do with this and that, so this [discussion] was for almost one year. I would say even the Derg regime was extended by one year because we discovered nobody was ready, so we had this discussion: if we go to Addis, who is going to run the radio station? How are we going to speak to journalists? We don’t know how to run it, we don’t know how to manage it, so we have set up a school of learning how to manage, it how to ...have reporters, in case the journalists don’t want to work with us. So we have to learn – we would bring many books from Europe about journalism. (Amare Aregawi: Interview)

During the mid-2000s, as the EPRDF was grappling with the art of governance, the party adopted the Business Process Re-Engineering (BPR) strategy for reform of government agencies. Developed by the American, Michael Hammer, the Ethiopian Press Agency, Addis Zemen, the Ethiopian Herald and the Ethiopian News Agency all prominently discussed the importance of BPR as part of a wider government-led public service restructuring project. Promising to ‘use the power of modern information technology to radically redesign our business processes’, BPR claimed to anticipate the future forms of business. Writing in 1990, Hammer argued that, with BPR in place, ‘only then can we hope to achieve quantum leaps in performance’ (Hammer, 1990). By arguing that potential cost-saving measures should be found in developing a whole new organisational structure rather than by searching within the traditional departments (e.g. accounts), the programme advocated significant downsizing. Government departments in Ethiopia all seemed to have knowledge of this process and a photocopy of the book Reengineering the Corporation: A Manifesto for Business Revolution (1993). But there was little indication to outsiders that BPR was either fully understood or ready to be implemented. There is also evidence that over time BPR has become a political tool for purging government ministries of those that were deemed to be disloyal or refused to join the party. The evaluation procedure has an element of the gimgema approach of constructive criticism during the struggle, whereby under BPR, employees are often assessed according to a scorecard graded by their supervisor. Many of the criteria used are open to highly subjective questioning and focus on behavioural characteristics such as is the Purging and Politics 65 employee ‘free from gossip and clique-ism’ and does the employee avoid ‘traditional and unprogressive thoughts’ (Human Rights Watch, 2010: 60). Those in leadership positions conducting the evaluations are mostly party cadres, leaving the system readily open to abuse and making party membership a key employment criterion. The use of a voguish American management strategy from the 1990s to consolidate the party’s power reflects a broader trend that has accelerated since the 2005 election, where the EPRDF has placed considerable pressure across all sectors of society for people to become members of the party. The individuals that have been eased out of the civil service through BPR have largely been replaced by graduates from Ethiopia’s Civil Service College (ECSC). Established in the mid-1990s in Addis Ababa, the first programmes focused on law and economics, and while the ECSC has been eager to stress that it is not a party finishing school, the majority of the initial students were former EPRDF fighters. Indeed, the influence of the party has continued to dominate, so much so that it is often referred to as the ‘cadre school’ (Vaughan & Tronvoll, 2003: 25). While the faculty and curriculum of the ECSC may not be dogmatically tied to advancing a narrow political ideology, there is a basis for this characterisation, and training within the college is undertaken within the broader context of advancing Revolu- tionary Democracy.

exclusion and the purging of the old order

When the EPRDF came to power, it made a common but crucial mistake: it disbanded many of the institutions built under the previous regimes, including the Ministry of Information and the armed forces. Having decided against working within existing personnel structures as Museveni had chosen to do in Uganda (while remaining keen to emphasise its difference from its oppressive predecessors), the EPRDF disbanded the government media while at the same time almost immediately liberalising the space for private media. In 1992, for example, the government passed a press law that allowed for substantial and significant new freedoms for the media. The decision to liberalise the media was made easier by the global historical moment that attended the fall of the Berlin Wall (Fukuyama, 1992). As the EPRDF marched on Addis Ababa, they were informed by the United States that following its brand of Marxist-Leninism would not be advisable. In response, the EPRDF adroitly recognised that allowing space for dissent would facilitate access to the international stage and help confer legitimacy on the model of Revolutionary Democracy they were pursuing. Dima Noggo, for example, speaking as the first minister of Informa- tion for the Transitional Government noted, ‘A country’s democratic credentials are today being measured by how much the press and the media in general are free’ (Noggo, 1992). Such manoeuvrings clearly showed cleverness in dealing with international politics, but in reply to those critics who argued that the EPRDF really did not believe in the principle of an open media, Bereket Simon argued: 66 Media, Conflict and the State in Africa

We wanted the people to feel free, to believe in themselves. To see that governments can be criticised if it’s well founded [and] to show that governments are accountable to the public and that they are bound to be criticised if they make mistakes. We wanted to show we were a tolerant government. (Interview: Bereket Simon) But even Bereket spoke openly of the political calculations at play, arguing that to clamp down on freedom of expression in the early years of the EPRDF’s rule would have been ‘a risky choice. If we restricted them, people wouldn’t feel free’ (Interview: Bereket Simon). Leaving to one side the motivations, the government, however, clearly did not anticipate the repercussions of liberalising the press, as members of the old regime quickly re-established themselves and launched broad- sides at the government. Bereket recalled that the leadership were ‘surprised that it wasn’t people that were against the previous regime but it was Derg leaders, etc.... that they found their way to control the private press’ (Interview: Bereket Simon). That former allies of the Derg had so quickly found positions in the private press was a result of the politically naïve decision taken by the EPRDF to disband much of the Derg’s media apparatus, replacing journalists at the Ministry of Information and the government news agencies. This raised fears in the tumultuous times of the early 1990s that the EPRDF was pursuing ethnic politics and helped set the tone for the politics of acrimony that followed in the media. But the early establishment of a hostile press was not just the result of the labours of former Derg employees. A signiﬁcant part of the population, particularly in the capital city, was wary of the EPRDF’s prior history of ethno nationalism and sceptical of their democratic claims. This encouraged some of these individuals to also enter the press and set up their own newspapers. Former Derg employees, however, were singled out by the EPRDF. As one individual who had worked in the Derg government argued:

When the TPLF first came they didn’t know who was who. They locked us all up. A new order was unfolding. It was not a new government but a new order, a new era. Everything of the old regime was gotten rid of ... Sensitive places were taken over ...[they] didn’t want any interference or to coexist with anyone. That was the aspiration of communism and Lenin’s [theory of] political cleansing – getting rid of the Tsarists. The ERPDF wanted to get rid of these people so they couldn’t have any feelings of the past, unless they were indispensable people. (Interview: Anonymous) The impact of this approach was plainly seen in the case of Tobiya,aninfluential and trendsetting newspaper in the 1990s published by the Atbia Kokeb Publishing and Advertising Company (AKPAC). The founders of Tobiya, some of whom are now in exile in the United States and Europe, were mostly seasoned journalists from the Derg era who had held key posts in the regime such as Head of the Censorship Office, editor-in-chief of Addis Zemen and editor of the Derg’s party magazine. As one of the founding journalists noted, ‘the first motive to establish the paper was Purging and Politics 67 because most journalists – more than 50 – were laid off ... They had to eat and work ...’ (Interview: Girma Beshah). Due to the staffers’ prior experiences and their access to significant capital, Tobiya quickly became one of the most professionally produced Ethiopian newspapers. Tobiya adopted a clear editorial line against the perceived ethnic politics of the EPRDF and against the separation of Eritrea. Early editorials and articles stressed the disintegration and the loss of unity they argued the EPRDF was inflicting on the country. For example, one editorial stressed that the EPRDF was breaking the historical identity of Ethiopia:

We understand that we are living in a time when some are deliberately and full- heartedly involved in distorting the country’s history; and of course, destroying it ... They say Ethiopia has colonised Eritrea and some other nationalities ... this is treason, history will pass judgment on the doers of such acts. (Tobiya, 1994a) In the pages of Tobiya, ethnic federalism was repeatedly viewed as destroying the unity that previous governments worked hard to foster for the benefit of a minority, the Tigrayans. The paper also voiced the very real anxieties about the loss of privilege of those that worked for the former regime, whether by choice or, because, as educated elites, they saw few other options for surviving in such a challenging political and economic situation. Not surprisingly, a common and prominent theme in these first private papers was the rights and role of the free press. This served as both a means for the journalists to secure their positions, which now meant advocating as much press freedom as possible, as well as providing a useful rhetorical tool for criticising the EPRDF. Editorials often focused on the EPRDF government’s persecution of journalists, the politics of the journalists’ associations and the role of an active civil society more generally. These discussions, although spoken through a lofty and universal language of high ideals, often hid narrower political ambitions, and the journalists’ associations and newspapers themselves were strongly partisan and aligned with specific groups. Despite the various media outlets self-identifying as members of the ‘free press’, the media very quickly developed into a factious body. By opening a space for disgruntled voices to be heard and yet refusing to engage with the calls for dialogue, the EPRDF indirectly fostered a stronger opposition media. Efforts at benign neglect or wilful disregard on the part of the EPRDF increasingly exacerbated tensions between the private media and government.

the institutional development of ethiopia’s media houses

Upon visiting the different media houses in Ethiopia, whether private newspapers or the Ethiopian Broadcasting Corporation, one is visibly struck by the physical fragility 68 Media, Conflict and the State in Africa of the organisations, particularly for such a populous country. It is not uncommon for major private newspapers or radio stations to operate out of only a few rooms, or in some cases, from a moderately sized family house. While the state media is housed in large government buildings, the pace and layout of the offices are less reflective of a buzzing newsroom than a soporific bureaucracy. Compared with Kenya, a country with less than half the population but where the Nation and Standard media groups have modern office towers dominating the Nairobi skyline, Ethiopia’s media stands physically and tellingly far behind. The media’s struggles to develop into a profitable and successful independent industry since 1991 can be found in a number of areas, some of which originate with the government, others from the failings of the industry itself, and still others rooted in the specificities and peculiarities of Ethiopian society. In Uganda, the NRM took a proactive and engaged approach with the media, and its leading publication, The New Vision, has held a strong role in institutionalising and professionalising the private media, encouraging wider financial and business development and setting the trend for the industry. This has not been the case in Ethiopia. Since the purging of old institutions and the relative liberalisation of the regulatory environment for the print media that gave birth to a staunchly oppositional press, the government has since had to significantly reverse its approach of benign neglect. The controls on private radio stations continue and the private media industry remains largely limited to the press and online, both of which are severely restricted. Where the nongovernment media does operate today, it often appears to be in a parallel world. Although sometimes reliant on the Ethiopian News Association (ENA) and the TPLF-affiliated Walta Information Centre to source stories since most consumers of the government press are interested in information relating to government programmes such as tenders and taxes, the private press does not regard the government press as serious competition. And while the government media believes that they should be competing with the private media and meeting international and regional standards, the lack of editorial and financial independence makes it difficult for the government media to innovate in new areas. Alert to the EPRDF’s conception of a developmental state with limits on free speech, publications such as The Reporter, Fortune and Addis Admas have sought to operate in a grey zone, sometimes criticising the policies of the government but not the fundamental positions of the EPRDF. Not least on account of their ability to survive various transitions and periods of repression, these three publications are among the more institutionalised and professional outfits in Ethiopia. They have established offices and, in some cases, can afford to have people allocated to advertising, copy-editing and distribution. There is, however, a regular turnover of staff and in many cases journalists work at a paper only for a few months. Structurally, much of the private press have struggled to develop business models, proper Purging and Politics 69 accounting practices and clear journalistic principles that define their product. Few media outlets have written editorial policies. Given this setup, it is not surprising that papers are often referred to through reference to their owners such as ‘Amare’s paper’,or‘Nebiy’s paper’. For many Ethiopians the editorial line is seen as a direct reflection of the personal views of the owner rather than the paper as a whole. For example, when there was widespread discussion in Addis Ababa about The Reporter’s increased criticism of the opposition after the 2005 elections, it was regularly framed in terms of the personal attitudes of Amare Aregawi, a former TPLF fighter who left his role in the Ethiopian News Service to set up the publication. Of course, characterising a publication by the agenda of its proprietor is not unique to the Ethiopian environment and can, for example, be heard frequently in discussions of Fox News and Rupert Murdoch. In Britain, during the fraught debates surrounding the referendum on European Union membership, the Financial Times was censured for its Japanese ownership. And in Kenya, The Standard, Nation and other outlets are regularly seen as altering their lines according to the political and economic interests of their owners. But in Ethiopia this line of attack is done with particular ease because it is common for the owner to also be the editor, and for other staff to have multiple roles (Bonsa, 2000: 28). While Tobiya, The Reporter and Fortune, among others, have had and continue to enjoy the luxury of offices and equipment such as computers, and have employed trained and committed journalists, many other media outlets have been small col- lectives. In some cases, this amounts to a group of recent university graduates; in other cases, a small group of ambitious friends or colleagues have come together, often with a major lead and a sensational story for their inaugural post or paper. Media outlets of this type first emerged during the 1990s when the media environment was more liberal, but their place in Ethiopia’s media history is chronologically scatty as their activities have typically coalesced around events such as elections. Inevitably, many of these small-scale initiatives collapsed after a few issues. This could be because they did not have substantial contacts or infrastructure to maintain a regular publishing schedule, but others shut due to government harassment or as a result of journalists going abroad. The Internet, however, has helped prospective journalists circumvent these barriers, and the informal, collective start-up model has enjoyed success as online publications. The Zone 9 bloggers, six of whom were detained in 2014, considered themselves a blogging collective and were primarily composed of young people. While some had a background in journalism, others were engineers, lecturers and data experts who shared the motto ‘We Blog Because We Care’. Today, some of Ethiopia’s most articulate political commentators write from the diaspora and while the Internet connects these voices with audiences in Ethiopia like never before, politics within the diaspora community often speaks its own language. At times 70 Media, Conflict and the State in Africa bewildering to the domestic audience, the different priorities of Ethiopians in the diaspora limit the relevance and legitimacy of the diaspora journalists domestically. Concerns of politicisation aside (a major accusation levelled by the government against the private media), many in the government are quick to argue that the lack of institutional development and weakness within the media can be attributed to the failings of the journalists themselves. Even if the government does not extend a charitable understanding of the reasons for this, it undeniably remains an issue. Many of the top students are attracted to more lucrative and less risky profes- sions, although there have been significant investments in this sector over the past fifteen years. In 2000, with substantial backing from the Norwegian government, Addis Ababa University established an MA programme in communications that has attracted top faculty and students. Government journalists are trained in the Ethiopian Mass Media Training Institute (EMMTI), which was established in 1996 under the Ministry of Information and offers a more government-oriented approach towards media. Since 1991 there has also been significant investment by international donors and NGOs to encourage reporting on specific issues such as HIV/ AIDS, democratic elections and child rights. Modules or short courses are provided in an effort by international donors to encourage a democratic media. However, the effectiveness of these interventions is often hampered by a lack of overall coordin- ation, a failure to properly consider the specificities of the national or local context, and a lack of follow-up or long term engagement. The lack of institutional memory within most news organisations has been a leading reason for the failure of the nongovernmental press to establish itself. Journalists rarely stay in their jobs for more than a year and there are hundreds of journalists abroad in exile. Some of these journalists have legitimate reasons to go into exile as they have suffered from persecution by the government. In other cases, however, people use these experiences of persecution to help establish a case for 3 an asylum claim by working only briefly as a journalist. The continuous exodus of journalists weakens the papers and provides little momentum to go forward and build. The Ugandan journalist Charles Onyango-Obbo was part of the American based Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ) mission to Ethiopia in 2006 to assess the situation of the media and the status of imprisoned journalists. Onyango-Obbo criticised the CPJ’s apparent encouragement that those journalists who were in a position to do so should flee to Kenya. In Uganda, Onyango-Obbo argued there was a fighting culture among journalists of challenging laws and maintaining and creating spaces for the press. These efforts, Onyango-Obbo said, stemmed from a recognition that press freedoms were not something that were simply given to journalists (Interview: Onyango-Obbo). As he elaborated:

3 This was evident from interviews with the Ethiopian diaspora journalist community in Nairobi, Kenya. Kenya is a ﬁrst stop for many that ﬂee Ethiopia as they make asylum claims to North American or European countries. Purging and Politics 71

Ethiopia had one of the freest medias in the Horn of Africa ...the challenge now is not with the free press because even a half-free press is a victory. Even a half-bad newspaper is better than a non-existent one. Because you have to go through the period where journalists come up then they get cracked down. If you don’t and they just leave, there is no institutional memory. You have nothing to build on. You have to start from scratch all the time. (Interview: Charles Onyango-Obbo)

Or, as David Styan has similarly argued, ‘civil rights such as freedom of the press have to be fought for, not simply acquired as a ready-made accessory from a foreign donor’s prescription list’ (Styan, 1999: 300). Since the repression that followed the 2005 election, journalists have left the country in large numbers and most of the private papers and many of the online blogs have closed down. Many of Ethiopia’s most articulate voices are now struggling to operate from the diaspora. While technological change has brought the diaspora and the domestic space into hitherto unprecedented regular communication, as has been noted, diaspora politics follows its own rhythms, limiting the relevancy and legitimacy these actors once had.

polarising propaganda and the struggle to reform government media

While the propaganda strategy the TPLF adopted in the bush proved both innovative and effective, the post-war government communications strategy has been far weaker. The government media has been focused on being a complement to the developmental state and in this guise has become highly politicised, both in terms of its internal structure and external messaging. At times this has proven counterproductive to the government’s agenda. The two major government dailies, The Ethiopian Herald and Addis Zemen, have a small circulation and are widely regarded as weak publications. The Ethiopian Herald, published in English, and Addis Zemen, published in Amharic, are similar and many articles from Addis Zemen are simply translated into English for The Ethiopian Herald. These two papers are supported by the weekly Al Alam, in Arabic, and Barifa, in Oromifa. Together, these four governmental publications fall under the supervision of the Ethiopian Press Agency (EPA), which is headed by an EPRDF cadre and political appointee. The EPA has a board of ten members that is elected by the parliament every five years. For many years, the aforementioned Bereket Simon served as Chairman of the Board, a position he continued to hold while he was Minister of Information. The chairperson is technically accountable to the Head of the Parliamentary Committee on Information and Culture, although the extent to which this actually happens is unclear. This question of oversight has been contentious because, as some journalists noted, the government newspapers do 72 Media, Conflict and the State in Africa actually aspire to be independent and to be led by independent bodies, but this has been hampered by the present structure. The head of the EPA is directly responsible for the editorial content of all the newspapers and the editors are accountable to him. If a government official wants to have an editorial placed in one of the papers, then they approach the head of the EPA. Journalists take cues from his office. During episodes of upheaval and violence, one editor noted a point that was returned to again and again during interviews that criticism of the government,

would not be accepted if it was printed. It was not explicitly said not to print the other views but you know. There is no apparent policy but every Friday an editorial comes from the Ministry of Information that explains the government stand on current issues. In these they use certain adjectives...We used it because it reflects the government views. When they use these words, we do. It’s not journalistically fair and right but journalists want to please the officials ... Ownership matters. (Interview: Anonymous) The enormous control the government exercises over the state papers can be witnessed in the fact that despite being government owned, journalists from these 4 papers still face great difficulties getting information from the government. In some cases, they have to wait several months before they can get the information requested from a government ministry, even when the head of the EPA directly tells a minister that the journalists want to have access to interview someone in their department. The difficulty of increasing circulation and improving the quality of the papers stems in part from the organisational structure of the EPA. Both daily papers are primarily distributed to government offices and embassies and are available for sale only in a limited number of shops. There are some private subscribers but most of these are businesses interested in the government tenders that are advertised. The revenues of the papers go directly back to the government. In contrast with the workings of Uganda’s New Vision, the editors and journalists at these papers have little sense of how much profit they earn and nor do they have the right to invest the profits, as the only way they can access funds is to ask parliament for an increase in their annual budget. Staff morale across the government media is low and the lack of enthusiasm is clear from even the shortest visit to an office. One journalist in a leadership position claimed in an interview that the management was aware that no one was happy and

4 The journalists at the government papers are from similar backgrounds to their colleagues in the private press. Most studied Amharic, English or theatre at school, the main difference being that some have also received training from EMMTI. Similar to the problems throughout the Ethiopian press, few journalists have received training in a particular subject, such as economics or law, as most of these graduates are drawn to more lucrative employment or other business opportunities. Purging and Politics 73 recognised that the majority of the journalists are simply working for ‘the bread’ (Interview: Anonymous). Staff rarely do investigative reporting, and most of their work consists of compiling material from the Internet, the international wire services, the ENA and the Walta Information Service. Walta and ENA keep a tight control on the news ﬂow from outside the capital and major cities. A prominent journalist who works for the ENA and asked to remain anonymous spoke of the difﬁculties even the ENA has in reporting events outside of Addis Ababa and the perceived imbalance between the role of the government media in Tigray and the other regions. In his view:

There are thirty-eight branches of ENA across the country. In some branches there is one journalist; in a few branches there are two. There are twelve branches in Oromia, seven in Amhara, seven in the Southern Region and six in Tigray. The rest of the regions have one each. All are accountable to the regional desk and they send their news stories through telephone or the computer. Thirteen branches are connected with the Internet, the others have no computer. In Tigray they [the journalists] are only from Tigray. In the other regions they are assigned regardless of their ethnicity, in the Somali region there’s an Amhara. During the past regime most journalists [were] Amhara so there is a scarcity of the human power but now they are starting to recruit from the other regions. The problems have started with the assigned general managers; they are all key members of the ruling party and are assigned not because of their competency. [A person in a significant position at ENA] has only a grade twelve education but he was a soldier in Tigray. He has no diploma ... It is believed that if you report conflicts such as the police against a boy it aggravates the conflict or that reporting on such events makes the events transfer to other areas. Individuals may report to the human rights organisations but there is no mechanism to report to the country. The journalists give us the crude information and we tell it to our bosses but we don’t report it ... In Tigray there is local radio but no need for independent media. The party radio and paper is working for the Tigrayans. But the party papers in the other regions works for the mobilisation of people behind the ruling party. It is basically propaganda. In Tigray it mobilises people for development, to prevent disease, to keep people in touch and unified. In other regions it is simply propaganda. (Interview: Anonymous)

These comments, reiterated in other interviews, signal the discontent within the government media about how information flows are controlled and politicised. Despite some merit-based promotion, many of those interviewed reflected on their discontent and frustration with the constraints on performing their jobs. As an Oromo, one journalist claimed that he was regularly passed over for international training and workshops. While many of his colleagues have left because of this discrimination, he argues that he continues to stay because he believes it is important for Oromos to be represented and continue fighting from within the system and 74 Media, Conflict and the State in Africa bureaucracy (Interview: Anonymous). Almost from the very beginning, those outside the EPRDF’s select umbrella felt excluded from the constitutional debates and the transitional government’s consultations on peace and reconstruction. As a former government journalist argued, ‘the very structure of the party [the EPRDF] elicits hatred. It’s a party of the Tigrayans. They have exacerbated ethnic tensions and generated a degree of hatred as they are seen as a conquering ethnic group’ (Interview: Anonymous). The government did little to challenge this idea among government media professionals by ignoring competing ideas and continuing to privilege party loyalty and, in some cases, Tigrayans over others. The government media and associated spokespeople have also demonstrated a significant weakness when it has come to managing crises and providing information that calms rather than exacerbates tense situations. The government media’s handling of the 2005 election period was especially bad, and its reputation deteriorated sharply as a consequence. Government ministers in particular have been criticised for not effectively gauging the effects that government propaganda would have on the public during sensitive times such as the post-election period. The academic Christopher Clapham accurately summed this up in his reflections on this period when he noted:

It is difficult to exaggerate the enormous amount of damage that has been done to the EPRDF government by Bereket Simon, the former Minister of Information and now information adviser to the Prime Minister, who has become the principal spokesman for the government. His neurotic and consistently inflammatory pronouncements, extending even to threats of an equivalent to the Rwanda genocide, have conveyed a very clear impression, both to the opposition and to the outside world, that the EPRDF is entirely unwilling to engage in any normal or reasonable 5 political process. (Clapham, 2005) Clapham’s charges were repeated in many interviews with informants, including some at government media outlets. Even Bereket has admitted that the government is unable to effectively communicate its messages to the people and recognised the need to develop platforms where the government can ‘engage’ (Interview: Bereket Simon). More than ten years later, however, the government continues to reproduce this flawed tactic. While it might, in official discourse, recognise the legitimacy of discontent, it almost always immediately offers a narrative that undermines the grievances that are being expressed. Protests, regardless of their origins, are usually dismissed as being ‘anti-government’, ‘anti-development’ or consisting of ‘destabilising elements’ rather than really engaging or recognising the grievances at their core. For example,

5 Bereket is quoted as saying ‘The alternative was strife between the different nationalities of Ethiopia which might have made the Rwandan genocide look like child’s play.’ (Bereket Simon, quoted in Plaut, 2005). Purging and Politics 75 as protests swept across the Oromia and Amhara regions in 2015 and 2016, Getachew Reda, the Government Communication Affairs Minister, argued ‘what we have here is an attempt by some rejectionist elements from the diaspora to organise through social media violent demonstrations which are aimed at dismantling the state structure and will help them drive and impose their own agendas on this country’ (Al Jazeera, 2016). The government has also accused the Eritrean government of encouraging the violence and protests (Tesfa News, 2016). It is not clear that there is either the commitment or vision to change the government’s communication strategy and the way in which it uses the media to communicate. One government media manager was exceptionally frank when he noted that ‘the Ethiopian government has no vision – there is no communication strategy. They have a development strategy but the media are not mentioned. They talk about the information laws but you need the vision’ (Interview: Anonymous).

a failure to institutionalise

Periods of crisis often dramatically expose the weaknesses and shortcomings of efforts to institutionalise new norms. In Ethiopia, as protests erupted in 2005 and again in 2016, issues of regionalism have come to the fore of public debate, addressing issues that have affected the development of the media system in two ways. First, information about what is going on outside the capital city is not readily available and the government discourages journalists from getting access to it. From the current military operation in the Ogaden to previous and continuing operations in Gambella, Amhara and Oromia regions, the EPRDF has been notoriously intolerant of rural dissent and criticisms. Similarly, the government has developed extensive methods of monitoring citizens, from teachers to the civil service, and is deeply sensitive about what information it will allow to emerge and enter these regions. It is not surprising that many journalists are wary of traveling outside Addis Ababa to cover stories. Those who do try are often explicitly told that their security 6 cannot be guaranteed. Many media outlets also argue that they do not have the funds to send reporters to the ﬁeld (although social media is transforming access and networks) and that when they are able to, the reporters are forced to operate in a grey zone, circumscribing their ability to push or upset the government. This lack of information and engagement with politics outside of the capital further encourages a divide between the peasantry and urban intellectual classes that the government has also sought to exploit as it portrays itself as the party for the peasantry and masses.

6 This was the case, for example, when Tsegaye Tadesse of Reuters and Anthony Mitchell of the Associated Press wanted to go to Gambella to cover the violence there. These journalists were both working for international news agencies so were in a slightly privileged position. For local journalists, the families are often reliant on the salary of the journalists as a critical contribution to the household income. Without insurance their families would not be compensated if they were killed or injured. 76 Media, Conﬂict and the State in Africa

Second, the media reflects the issues of ethnicity in a way similar to the difficulties faced by ethnic federalist politics. As the private media is largely representative of elite groups that coalesce in part around ethnic groups, or at the very least political interests, many feel disempowered and excluded. Until recently there have been few outlets available to represent their grievances, although the Internet has provided some useful fora in recent years. Despite the best efforts of some journalists who have worked to develop the country’s media system, the structural, political and economic challenges will hinder this sector for the foreseeable future. As the next chapter will discuss, the private media has been consumed by political manoeuv- ring, and attempts to break out of this framework have been difficult. 5

Media, Elections and Polarised Politics

Following the spate of protests across Ethiopia that began in Oromia state in late 2015, dramatic restrictions on the media and ICTs have been put in place as part of the state of emergency imposed in October 2016. The government has justified the need to restrict freedom of expression and assembly as a necessary step to address ‘anti-peace groups’ working closely with ‘foreign elements’ (Wolde, 2016). As this book has argued and this chapter will continue to stress, the dramatic turn of events should not be considered surprising. The recent outpouring of people on the streets in protest reflects deep and longstanding dissatisfaction with the very real failings of the Ethiopian national project as defined by the EPRDF and the nonfulfillment of a reconciliation process that has left countless unresolved grievances. This chapter considers the efforts by the nongovernment media (and the political and economic structures behind these outlets) to represent interests beyond the developmental state and to serve as a form of opposition in a political process that has been anything but transparent and open. These dissenting voices and publications in the media have come from various sectors of society, including youth and religious groups, diaspora communities and political parties. The chapter then reflects on the efforts on the part of the government to curb these opportunities through legal and extra-legal means, some planned and well-articulated and others more reactive. The result of these measures has been the creation of a highly repressive media environment, particularly in rural regions. This contrasts markedly with the contemporaneous situation in Uganda, where Ugandans have access to local community radio stations and the major outlets have networks of local correspondents and the ability to send reporters to different regions to cover events. While Internet penetration remains low in Ethiopia and government restrictions have been placed on social media, the Internet has helped Ethiopians receive more information on major developments across the country such as the ongoing protests. But reporting from outside the capital city remains highly limited.

77 78 Media, Conﬂict and the State in Africa

Central to the discussion here is the way in which the EPRDF approached private media when they first came to power in the early 1990s and how the media became a major forum for expressing divergent perspectives on reconciliation and the interests of different elite communities. In these early years, the EPRDF largely lacked a strategy or any real desire to engage those that it disagreed with, thus facilitating the development of the media into a critical space for those that fundamentally opposed the approach to ethnic federalism and state-building the government pursued. Again, this stands in contrast with the co-optive approach of the NRM and their attempts to legitimise and elevate certain segments of the opposition that, while critical, were agreeable to the NRM’s overall nation-building project. The careful cultivation of an ‘official’ opposition in Uganda is contrasted with the EPRDF’s highly antagonistic and adversarial role with the media. The second part of the chapter focuses on what happened when the government attempted to liberalise the political space ahead of the 2005 elections, a decision that partly explains the tremendous gains the opposition made at this time. In the post- election period, in the context of unprecedented protests and violence, the Ethio- pian government demonstrated a significant reversal in tolerance for critical ideas in the media (still primarily the press) and renewed other efforts, many of which were built on ideas of persuasion and mobilisation developed during the struggle to swell the membership of the EPRDF. These efforts had clear implications on the 2010 elections, which the EPRDF dominated, securing results that were further consolidated in the 2015 election. The lack of competitiveness in these elections led them to be largely interpreted on social media platforms as ‘non-events’ (Gagliardone et al., 2016), with many Ethiopians expressing the feeling that the country was going through electoral motions without any real commitment to the political process. The ruling party and its allies succeeded in securing 100 per cent of the seats in parliament in 2015.

missed opportunities for reconciliation: the start of a polarised media

The protests of 2016 that saw around 500 people killed by October (Human Rights Watch, 2016) were a consequence of the government’s failings to sufficiently advance a national reconciliation project and bring together the disparate ethnic and political perspectives around a cohesive and harmonious agenda, particularly in the early days of EPRDF rule. The government has instead prioritised the deliverance of tangible benefits such as roads, schools and medical care centres. But even then, benefits have been unequally distributed across the vast country, inflaming divisions (Skaftun, Thorne, Ali & Norhein, 2014). Critics and protesters are quick to point to preferential treatment being given to certain regions and ethnic groups and highlight the systematic disenfranchisement and neglect of others. Unlike Nelson Mandela’s leadership in South Africa and programmes such as the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, the EPRDF has done little to address these Media, Elections and Polarised Politics 79 grievances as the government instead adopted an either ‘with us or against us’ approach. Upon taking power, reconciliation was viewed as a piecemeal measure 1 to address issues only when necessary. In a 1991 interview, Prime Minister Meles stated his views in these terms:

We believe in a democratic and peaceful transition. But the WPE [Workers’ Party 2 of Ethiopia ] rejected peace until the last minute and suffered a defeat in the end. I don’t think there is any reason why we should extend an invitation to a party, which, after ﬁghting against peace and democracy and one that was defeated and buried, to come out of the grave and make an attempt to participate in restoring peace and democracy. (Meles Zenawi, quoted in The Ethiopian Herald, 1991) In reply, aggrieved groups concerned with the direction of the new government came together to form the Conference on Peace and Reconciliation. The government, however, refused to engage with this body, dismissing the need for a peace conference in a country they argued was already at peace. As a disgruntled editorial in the private paper Waqt noted at the time:

The upcoming Conference for Peace and Reconciliation is just around the corner. But the head of the conference’s host country, and the main participant at that, is behaving like the head of a household who doesn’t wish to be disturbed at mealtimes. And this is at a time when even America has become somewhat flexible on the issue of the conference. (Waqt, 1993) Although some participants were arrested when they arrived in Addis Ababa from abroad and there was some harassment, the conference managed to proceed as planned, with significant participation across the country and internationally (Keller, 1995: 631). The conference reached a number of recommendations and conclusions and established the Council of Alternative Forces for Peace and Democracy in Ethiopia (CAFPDE), which constituted the first real opposition coalition under the EPRDF. In addition to critiquing the EPRDF for ‘weakening the unity and integrity of the country’, and calling for a new transitional government committed to active dialogue on the process of reconciliation and peace-building, the conference omin- ously argued they were:

convinced that the drama aimed at giving a single political organisation legal authority for its undemocratic and dictatorial activities through a great document

1 For a more in-depth discussion on the press and constitution-making process see Stremlau, 2014, and for the political transition see Stremlau 2011. 2 An explicitly Marxist-Leninist vanguard party, the WPE was formally established in Addis Ababa on 11 September 1984 to mark the tenth anniversary of the 1974 revolution. With Mengistu Haile Mariam as the General Secretary, the WPE was part of the Derg’s initiative to gain greater control over the country by ruling through civilian mass organisations rather than the military (Clapham, 1985). 80 Media, Conﬂict and the State in Africa

like a constitution should be stopped and that the constitution should be drafted by representatives of the people elected by an overall participation of political organisations. Contrary to this, stiﬂing the operation of political organisations and endorsing a constitution drafted by a commission set up one organisation in the face of popular opposition to it will have a similar result of un-acceptability as in the case of past constitutions because it didn’t originate from the people. Hence, the Council of Alternative Forces will ardently struggle and stand with the people to straighten up the process. (Council of Alternative Forces for Peace and Democracy in Ethiopia, 1994).

The government rejected the conference’s recommendations and dismissed it as the demands of a limited number of intellectuals. This response only fuelled the accusations that the government was not listening, creating a distrustful climate where consensus proved elusive. As trust broke down, it became hard to even speak using the same political lexicon. Terms such as democracy were regularly used by the government and its opponents, with often wildly different interpretations. This has been reﬂected in the name of the nation state, whether it be the People’s Democratic Republic of Ethiopia as it was under the Derg, when it was clearly not ‘democratic’, or the Federal Democratic Republic of Ethiopia as it presently stands. Not helping matters, the EPRDF’s own exposition of Revolutionary Democracy often proved vague and muddled. A 1993 editorial in the private paper Tomar captures the tone of these discordant and unsettling times:

There is a considerable confusion over the meaning of democracy, peace, justice, prosperity, etc. There is also a consensus that clash may be inevitable if people try to translate and apply these concepts in their own ways ... Still the TG [transitional government] insists there is peace in the country and that it sees no ground for a peace conference in a peaceful country. It is, after all, drafting a constitution. It is at the thresholds of an elected government, hence the reluctance to listen to calls it can afford to term as mere interference. And this at a time when some signatories of the Transition period have made common cause with non-signatory groups and raised together questions of crucial signiﬁcance. Those in power and their opposition should sit down and talk in the interest of the people, for it is the people who must decide in the ﬁnal analysis. The ultimate objective of all the parties concerned should be the building of an Ethiopia to be governed by the general will and for the general will of the people. (Tomar, 1993)

It was in the pages of the Tomar, Waqt and other publications that intellectuals chose to express their grievances, argue for reconciliation and promote their political agenda. These early media outlets set the tone and character of much of the private press that emerged later. Both combative and critical, they had a strong and consistent line against the EPRDF and many of its most fundamental policies. Some media outlets, however, including The Reporter, Addis Admas, Fortune and Capital Media, Elections and Polarised Politics 81 attempted to adopt a more mollifying perspective. These papers recognised the legitimacy of the government, the constitution and ethnic federalism and were careful in their criticism of the policies and politics of the EPRDF. But these outlets were also not as influential as the more critical papers, and while some continue publishing today, they are largely seen as sympathetic to the ruling party. Tobiya was the most influential of the early publications and a trendsetter among the private media. Founded by former Derg journalists at the Ministry of Infor- mation before it was disbanded by the EPRDF, Tobiya, along with papers such as Waqt and Tomar, adopted a clear political and editorial perspective against ethnic politics and opposition to the secession of Eritrea. The early issues of Tobiya often accused the Ethiopian government of allowing Eritreans to intervene in, if not overtly control, local affairs (Tobiya, 1994c). The secession of Eritrea in 1993, and with it the loss of the port of Assab, figured centrally in the critical stances adopted by the paper:

The attempt by the fascist Italians to divide the people and the country was not successful, but now it is getting rooted thanks to the current regime. The people of the country are being divided along ethnic lines ... The 1991 Charter follows and adheres to the secessionist ideology of a few Eritreans. It seems that the Charter was prepared to facilitate the secession of Eritrea from Ethiopia ...The attempt to view unity as a marriage is very simplistic and incorrect. The people of Ethiopia are connected by history, nature, culture and psychological make-up ...We also think that no group should be allowed to disintegrate the country. (Tobiya, 1994b)

Tobiya’s editorials made many references to the loss of national unity they perceived to be happening under the EPRDF, playing on a powerful and central theme throughout Ethiopian history. Unity has usefully served successive regimes as a clarion call to consolidate power. For example, many of the Derg newspapers ran headlines declaring the TPLF to contain ‘anti-unity elements’ that were ‘engaged in destructive activities in the name of democracy’ (The Ethiopian Herald, 1991). And the permanent masthead of the pre-1991 Addis Zemen and The Ethiopian Herald read, ‘In Unity Lies Our Strength’. The slogan was, and continues to be, laden with meaning. As one editorial in the early 1990s noted:

In the new Ethiopia, the unique and terrifying term is “unity”. The charter is not in favor of unity. It also seems that the constitution fears the same term. It rather pronounces and emphasizes the phrase “self-determination up to secession” ... The regime supports the division and disintegration of the country and we think this is the ﬁrst national government to do such a thing in the world. (Tobiya, 1994b)

The experiences and previous roles of the journalists writing for Tobiya, Tomar, Waqt and other publications with an explicitly oppositional agenda are key to 82 Media, Conflict and the State in Africa understanding the media dynamics and why the present government has expressed so much hostility towards these journalists. As the Tobiya case has illustrated, the founders of the post-1991 publications were mostly seasoned journalists from the Derg, a career trajectory that includes Mulugeta Lule, former editor of the Derg party’s magazine, and Goshu Mogus, who ran the censorship office for the Derg. After 1991, some of these individuals were imprisoned or accused of involvement in the previous regime’s crimes before they made their way back into the media world. For example, Mairegu Bezabih, one of the founders of Tobiya, spent a year-and- a-half in jail on charges of genocide for having executed more than 300 people but 3 was eventually released as the government could not prove the case. The hugely acrimonious conflicts between the EPRDF and dissenting publications thus often date back many years to the bloody years of Mengistu’s rule. A leading journalist at the TPLF’s Radio Fana put the issue succinctly when he said, ‘these are long political debates. It has been a thirty-year power struggle. It is individuals. The Ethiopian media should transform and begin fresh ... the Minis- tries of Information are fighting, it’s the current one vs. the old one’ (Interview: Anonymous). It is also not uncommon for these conflicts to be framed generation- ally, with many of the EPRDF politicians tracing their politicisation to the Student Movement of the 1960s, speaking of the anti-government media as part of a slightly older generation. As one private newspaper journalist and former fighter with the TPLF explained:

Now the right to secession can be seen from the universities forty years ago. Land ownership as well. The ruling party and opposition still have the student movement in mind. There is no new generation coming into politics. The ruling party is younger than the opposition – they’re in their forties and fifties. The opposition is in their sixties and seventies. Ethiopian politics need to be modernised, we need to put an end to the leftist student politics. (Interview: Amare Aregawi) Given this history and the personal enmity at play, it was not surprising therefore that anti-government papers were harshly targeted by the government for arrests and closure after the 2005 elections. During the 2005 electoral period, some papers affiliated themselves with the newly formed Coalition for Unity and Democracy (CUD) and other opposition movements. The most popular paper at this time was Ethiop, edited by Sissay Agena. Sissay was closely affiliated with the CUD and had been a lieutenant in the Derg. Characterising the content of Ethiop, one fellow

3 During Mairegu’s time as editor-in-chief of Tobiya he was also charged with murder but the charge was downgraded to incitement. This experience encouraged him to take time-off from the paper and work as an information officer at the European Union. He later began teaching in the Department of Journalism at Unity College and remained involved with the newspaper, helping to start and write for Lisane Hezeb (Interview: Mairegu Bezabih). Media, Elections and Polarised Politics 83 journalist noted that, ‘Ethiop was political hooliganism in practice. It was always supporting the CUD, it didn’t balance and the editor is interested in politics not media’ (Interview: Anonymous). Unsurprisingly, Sissay found it hard to publish his paper and he was arrested numerous times. It is important to note, though, that not all of the newspapers opposed to the state have been run by former Derg journalists. Over time, some of these early papers have attracted journalists with more diverse agendas and motivations and have evolved in different directions. Tobiya, for instance, underwent a significant transformation twelve years after it was launched when the paper split in two, forming Lisane Hezeb alongside Tobiya. While both papers continued publishing until just after the 2005 election when they were forced to close, Lisane Hezeb became the more influential. This was not least because many of the most prominent journalists left Tobiya’s team to establish the new paper. One informant expressed the view that, ‘Lisane Hezeb was the strong part; it had the editor, publisher, columnists. The other part [Tobiya] became infiltrated by the EPRDF’ (Interview: Anonymous). Indicative of the polarisation that continued to mark the media’s relationship to the state, the main arguments Lisane Hezeb advanced during the 2005 election were rooted in fundamental disagreements with the EPRDF. First, Lisane Hezeb continued to advance arguments about the failed process of reconciliation. For example, one editorial read:

As everyone knows, there is no peace between individuals and people in this country. We cannot be sure of our future because of the past 14 years of ethnic politics, unity is now very loose. Elites of one particular ethnic group have a monopoly over the wealth and power of the nation and have created a long-standing problem. Today, even a national reconciliation may not solve the problem. (Lisane Hezeb, 2005a)

Second, a deep frustration with the TPLF as an ethnic minority party was regularly expressed:

A self-imposed EPRDF and political parties trying to liberate the people are ﬁghting a peaceful war that is gradually progressing ...The TPLF has always been destroying the country, dividing the people. Since it captured state power, it has been ruling the country ...with an undeﬁned and inconsistent revolutionary democracy. (Lisane Hezeb, 2005b)

Third, issues of land rights and accusations about the activities of ‘ex-Derg elements’ were regularly repeated. In this particular editorial, the argument relates to what was raised in a recent televised debate before the elections:

EPRDF says ownership rights should not be given to the peasants while the oppositions say they should be entitled to that right. The opposition says EPRDF’s claim that the peasants would sell its land ...is not grounded because the peasant 84 Media, Conﬂict and the State in Africa

has its own wisdom and traditional knowledge ... if we see the case neutrally, saying that land can be sold doesn’t mean that it should be sold. One of the manifestations of democracy are ownership rights. It is when the peasant owns land that his full rights will be respected ...The EPRDF representative was accusing the CUD of mobilising dangerous vagrants and the ex-regime soldiers against the incumbent. What makes people vagrants or dangerous remnants is unemployment and such people didn’t create the unemployment problem ... It is the same with the ex-regime soldiers. These soldiers are not soldiers of the “Derg” regime but of Ethiopia. Do we say the current soldiers are soldiers of EPRDF if the party loses power? The ex-regime soldiers have come to the rescue of Ethiopia when Eritrea launched its aggression and sacriﬁced their lives. So, is it right to label them anti-people? (Lisane Hezeb, 2005c) Although taken from one newspaper, these arguments more broadly reﬂect the criticisms emanating from Addis Ababa’s elite community as well as the diaspora and opposition parties. Along with issues of federalism and secession, these have been the recurring issues that the EPRDF has sought to avoid engaging with. While debating certain press laws or criticising the way the government hospitals are run fall within a circle of debate that the government can tolerate because it does not challenge the fundamental tenets of the EPRDF, as the aftermath of the 2005 election showed, the EPRDF is quick to draw the noose tightly.

elections: from closure to a ‘non-event’

The large silences that have reigned during Ethiopia’s national elections are just as important to note as what is being said. The EPRDF has arguably never been fully committed to the idea of electoral democratic politics. As the previous chapter discussed, Meles covetously looked towards the stability that long periods of governance by one party have given Japan and the Scandinavian countries and viewed this as desirous in Ethiopia for fulfilling the developmental agenda. Elections have always been staged in part to please international demands, meet donor condition- alities and fit a broader desire for Ethiopia to fit in with international trends. Viewed with a utilitarian eye, the goal of elections for the EPRDF has been more about providing legitimacy rather than a transfer of power. Elections, in Meles’ own words, should not threaten ‘continuity and stability of policy’ (Zenawi, 2006). The 2005 election was therefore somewhat surprising in terms of the political and media space that was tolerated, and even facilitated, by the EPRDF. Despite the EPRDF holding significant reservations with the arguments put forward by sections of the private press and its coverage of the opposition, the government did not close down or exert as extensive censorship on the media prior to the elections as it had in the past. This created an unusually active period for the media in Ethiopia. At the peak of activity, there were 82 newspapers in circulation prior to the election, Media, Elections and Polarised Politics 85

4 with some, like Ethiop, enjoying a circulation as high as 97,500. Ethiop’s circulation contrasts markedly with the typical circulation for most popular weekly or bi- weekly papers, which stands at around 30–40,000 at most. At the same time as allowing the nongovernmental press new scope for critique, the EPRDF provided unprecedentedly open coverage through the state media. Political parties were given quotas of airtime, and coverage of opposition rallies, 5 interviews and manifestos was included. Eager to demonstrate to international observers that state media was offering a platform to opposition groups, the English language press, radio and television outlets were particularly generous in their coverage of the opposition. The impact of providing opposition groups with increased access to the media was more signiﬁcant than predicted, particularly in rural areas. While the freedoms the private media now enjoyed remained almost entirely witnessed by residents in major urban areas, the airing of opposition views and political debates on radio challenged expectations in rural communities and perceptions of Ethiopia’s long-established hierarchical political culture. It was not so much the content or substance of the debates that affected how people voted but the fact that, as René Lefort’s research uncovered, people now perceived the government to be ‘so weak that it must sit with its enemies’. To rural audiences, the government had not only allowed itself to be openly criticised and mocked on national radio but there appeared to be little consequence for those that were taking on the ruling power. This was seen to be a signal that the government was weak and that a future power would soon take over that would require the allegiance and support of the farmer (Lefort, 2007: 265). But the government, having enlarged the space for criticism and now witnessing the outpouring of support for reform and change, did not respond. The EPRDF’s approach of ignoring the fundamental divisions in society continued. While the 2005 elections were mainly seen as ‘the most genuinely competitive elections the country has experienced’ (European Union Election Observation Mission, 2005), offering ‘Ethiopian citizens a democratic choice for the ﬁrst time in their long history’ (Carter Center, 2005), those monitoring the elections tended to adopt a view privileging the centre and urban areas. Despite having election

4 Source: Ministry of Information. 5 Embassies in Addis Ababa did some media monitoring during the 2005. In addition, Gebre- medhin Simon of the Graduate School of Communication at Addis Ababa University also led a study that concluded: ‘There were some very positive innovations leading up to, and during the run-up to the election. It was very evident in the public owned media where great improvement was seen. Secondly, there was success in granting the parties access to the government media. The quota of airtime given to all parties was met. But at times highly political and emotional attacks were launched on personalities. Thirdly, relevant authorities were flexible and gave significant interview space. The Ethiopian Television was very balanced.’ (Gebremedhin Simon, 2006). The graduate school, particularly during this period, was known to be supportive of the EPRDF. Nevertheless, a wide number of informants corroborated his argument that the media was relatively open before the elections. 86 Media, Conflict and the State in Africa monitors in rural communities, the subtler co-option and hierarchal relations of power that Lefort so ably discusses were often overlooked prior to election day. This partly accounts for why the early results of the early election were so dramatic, showing the opposition to have made significant gains, including sweeping all of the seats in Addis Ababa for both parliamentary and local government but also winning rural constituencies in areas such as Amhara region and Southern Nations, Nation- alities and Peoples’ Region (SNNPR) (Rawlence & Lefkow, 2010: 13). For a party that had loosened its grip on the electoral process in the expectation that this would confer greater legitimacy on and not challenge their power, these results placed pressure on the EPRDF to delay the official results. While the two major opposition parties (the Coalition for Unity and Democracy [CUD] and the United Ethiopian Democratic Forces [UEDF]) claimed to increase their seats from 12 to 185 during the preliminary results, the National Election Board of Ethiopia (NEBE) released initial results indicating that the opposition parties had won 142 seats. The NEBE noted that the results were preliminary and, following complaints by the parties, being reviewed. Despite Prime Minister Meles imposing a month-long ban on public protests in Addis Ababa, when the provisional results were delayed, protests broke out in the major cities. With Meles personally overseeing the security forces, the situation quickly and violently escalated. Hundreds were arrested and on 8 June, at least thirty-six people were shot dead in Addis Ababa (Human Rights Watch, 2005). The leadership of the CUD was placed under house arrest. Final results were released in September, officially showing the EPRDF and its allies secured 327 out of 524 seats and allowing it to form a government. Opposition parties strongly contested these results and a new wave of protests ensued with more than 60,000 arrests across the country and the death toll rose to 193 protesters (Mitchell, 2006). The electoral observers from the European Union and the Carter Center quickly reversed their earlier pronouncements on the election. The violence on the streets was coupled with a broader shutdown of the political space the EPRDF had only so recently enlarged. Freedom of assembly was restricted and the media was heavily affected. The government’s previous willingness to provide space for the CUD in the government media drastically diminished, replaced with a campaign to systematically discredit the CUD. A journalist from the highest levels of Ethiopian Radio described his experience and the hard choice he had to make following the change of tack after the elections:

We had to politicise things. Sometimes people push you to do things. Before it wasn’t so recurrent but it started from the eve of the election. Before the election was the nicest time of my life. I received more than 300 calls on the day of the election. We followed every activity of polling stations with 22 radio reporters. We received news from ENA and Walta, everyone was so motivated and it was free. The next day everything was different. The TV announced that the EPRDF has won and then things got bad. The Prime Minister announced a one-month state of Media, Elections and Polarised Politics 87

emergency ... A few days after polling we were told we were ‘back to editorial’. Back to editorial meant we would no longer accommodate opposition ideas. The ruling party considered it to be out of their generosity and charity that the opposition got to use the government media. It was a problem of attitude. (Interview: Anonymous)

This journalist soon resigned but his frustration was shared by colleagues across the government media. A journalist from the Ethiopian News Agency (ENA) described similar challenges and his small acts of resistance, whereby after the elections,

Any sensitive political stories must be seen by a central manager. If it’s a press release from the CUD, we say forget it, it’s better to send a reporter to a development workshop. The opposition states their position formally and sends it to the state and private media. We don’t cover it if the CUD calls for peace or anything positive. They [the government] want them to be hostile and violence promoters. I was frustrated but I don’t dare to resign. Before, if you would resign from the state media you could join the private media. It was an easy leap, but now you can’t. It was a deliberate move that they shut down so many papers so state media journalists can’t go anywhere ... There was an immediate shift in The Reporter. There is no difference from ENA and joining The Reporter ...Working for the state media you start not to care, you are a typewriter. At the ENA we have been compiling our reports from the election. The reporting is biased and you can visibly see the difference between pre- and post-election reporting ...The adjectives for the CUD came after polling day. For the city riots, there was an established phrase, ‘the street violence that was instigated by the CUD’. Everything started with this phrase. It had not yet been investigated yet we accuse them. Sometimes at the English desk we would add some words like allegedly. We wanted to get out of the situation and distance ourselves but at the Amharic desk [they did] not. If I consulted the GM [General Manager] he would have said no. The English desk is a particular case ... we would also put stories from Reuters, etc., but the GM would select phrases from the stories that are against the opposition. He would order the Amharic desk to only translate those phrases, they were very selective phrases to paint a bad image of the CUD and make the international media look like it supports the ENA. (Interview: Anonymous).

Government propaganda has traditionally been aimed at the EPRDF’s perceived natural constituencies in rural areas. But in the post-election period the government felt exceptionally insecure and it increased the efforts of its propaganda with a focus on urban areas. However, by speaking in such a trenchant tone, government propaganda aimed at urban areas has proven counter-productive, particularly in trying to combat the narratives of the private press and opposition supporters. High-level government representatives repeatedly referred to the opposition as the Interahamwe (the paramilitary organisation principally involved in the Rwandan Genocide of 1994), a label that was seen as provocative and irresponsible, with its implicit suggestion that 88 Media, Conﬂict and the State in Africa

if the opposition came to power they would seek to eliminate the Tigreyan minority (Aalen, 2011: 52). The failings of the government’s tactic did not go unremarked upon in the press. One editorial in Lisane Hezeb noted that ‘the programmes are actually reinforcing people’s hatred towards this media’ (Lisane Hezeb, 2005d). As the government pulled sharply in one direction, animosity towards the government increased as sections of the private media that had been relatively restrained during the pre-election period became more vociferous in their criticisms. The result was an even more polarised media environment. As part of the clampdown, journalists from the private media covering the election results and ensuing protests found themselves under increased surveillance and pressure. After the CUD’s call for a campaign of civil disobedience in November 6 was met with another vicious governmental reply, the majority of the newspapers that had been opposed to the government were closed, including Ethiop and Menelik. The decision to close was made either because the editors and journalists had been arrested or due to printing presses refusing to print their papers, often claiming ‘to have run out of ink or paper’. Fifteen journalists were among the more than one hundred opposition party and civil society leaders that were arrested and later tried in court. The journalists were primarily charged under the penal code with crimes of treason or as conspirators of the opposition, who were accused of attempted genocide, armed rebellion and outrage against the constitution. A few journalists were charged with violations of the Press Law (Crawford, 2006). The last group of opposition leaders and journalists that had been rounded up during the election period were not released until July 2007. Menelik, Satenaw and Asqual’s decidedly partisan approach was readily evident to readers. In no uncertain terms, their editor, Eskinder Nega, explained that he was pursing civic journalism or grass roots journalism by giving voice to the voiceless and those who had had their rights taken away. While people were dying and impoverished, Eskinder argued, it was hard for him to remain ‘neutral’ (Interview: Eskinder Nega). Eskinder’s deeply critical stance on the government made him part of a new generation of activist journalists whose allegiances did not grow from their prior involvement with the Derg. After being arrested alongside his wife, Serkalem Fasil, who gave birth to their son in prison in 2005, Eskinder was later pardoned in 2007. However, he was rearrested in 2011 and sentenced to 18 years in prison under Ethiopia’s anti-terrorism legislation for alleged involvement with the opposition political party, Ginbot 7, which was classiﬁed by the government as a terrorist 7 organisation (Hunter-Gault, 2012). While Eskinder has received numerous international prizes from organisations such as Amnesty International and Human Rights

6 An ofﬁcial inquiry commission launched by the Ethiopian government estimated that 99 people were killed and 448 others injured in the ﬁrst week of November. 7 Founded by Addis Ababa’s former mayor, Berhanu Nega, the US-based Ginbot 7’s name commemorates the date in the Gregorian calendar when on 15 May 2015, 200 people were killed in the post-election violence (Africa Research Bulletin, 2014). Media, Elections and Polarised Politics 89

Watch, he remains in jail and has become a symbol of the government’s harsh approach to the media. If the EPRDF’s severe and cruel response to Menelik and Ethiop was predict- able, the punitive measures the EPRDF pursued towards papers not obviously oppositional in their content struggled to find any credible justification. During the election period, Lisane Hezeb did not carry what can be considered exceptionally 8 sensationalist or vituperative coverage. Lisane Hezeb nonetheless struggled, as printers were reluctant to publish the paper due to concerns of government retali- 9 ation, and some of the paper’s journalists, including Goshu Moges, were arrested. The Reporter similarly faced libel charges and contempt of court for their reporting. But The Reporter’s place in the government’s sightlines has always been more complicated. Owned by Amare Aregawi, a former TPLF fighter and EPRDF appointee as head of the Ethiopian News Service, The Reporter avoided some of the penalties many of the other papers faced. The Reporter first emerged as a trendsetting newspaper aimed at capturing the middle ground between the state and those publications aligned with opposition parties. As with most papers in Ethiopia, the past experience and network of the owner-editor, Amare Aregawi is central to understanding the paper’s role and position. Amare left his post as head of the Ethiopian News Service to start The Reporter in part because he believed he could be of more service to the country by stirring debate in the private press. Amare was also undoubtedly frustrated by the daunting task of reforming the vast bureaucracy of the government media agencies. This task was complicated by divergent interpretations of the EPRDF’s governing ideology and clashes of personality. But the fact that Amare left government to pursue journalism in the private sector does not mean he was disillusioned with the EPRDF’s goals. After all, when the EPRDF outlined its revolutionary democratic principles in the early 1990s, it recognised that the state media were poorly staffed and organised and called for individuals to help ‘mobilize the financial and material resources of our revolutionary democratic forces not only to modernize our existing media but also to set up new ones and control the market’ (Ethiopian Register, 1996). In this task, Amare had enviable resources. He continued to enjoy access to high- level contacts among those in the ruling party, and his ability to raise start-up capital quickly made The Reporter a prominent paper. While the public may have at first been unsure of what to expect from a former TPLF fighter, The Reporter soon

8 They were, however, able to get more information from the opposition than the government, both as a reﬂection of their political ties as well as the general reluctance by the government to engage with the private media or provide information. 9 The circumstances surrounding Goshu’s case are complex and likely stemmed more from a personal confrontation with a key individual in the government rather than his work for Lisane Hezeb. This confrontation is mentioned in an open letter published by the Committee to Protest Journalists. See (Cooper, 2006). 90 Media, Conﬂict and the State in Africa earned a strong following from various segments of society appreciative of its criticisms of the government and relative objectivity. From Amare’s perspective:

There were other newspapers [but] The Reporter was ... different from its incep- tion. We set a different norm in media. There were some private papers but there was a highly polarised situation between the government media and the private media. The government media was saying everything in this country is good, there is nothing bad. And some of the private papers said everything in this country is bad ... There was nothing for the public to call a spade a spade. So one of the reasons for the creation of The Reporter was: can’t we have a balanced free and fair media in Ethiopia? Exactly when we started we were attacked from both sides. (Interview: Amare Aregawi)

However, Amare’s contacts and The Reporter’s ambiguous relationship with the EPRDF have not deﬂected all criticism. In more recent years, the paper has come under great pressure from the EPRDF and its allies for its reports on corruption. Amare has been arrested and was once severely beaten up outside his son’s school (Committee to Protect Journalists, 2009). Overall, while this sector of the media represented by The Reporter has tended to be less ideologically grounded than either the government or opposition press, their criticism of the government in the post- 2005 period proved too much for the increasingly autocratic EPRDF. These newspapers have also tended to have strong connections with international actors and, in some cases, sought to model themselves on top Western publications. As Amare describes:

How we see it is that we don’t discover a new job for our newspaper or a new policy. Newspapers are agenda setters ... Newspapers try to show the way. They don’t force – they don’t have the power. We are setting an agenda, whether they are accepted or not. Is this a discovery for The Reporter? No. The Guardian, The New York Times, Washington Post, Figaro – that’s what they do and that’s what we are doing. (Interview: Amare Aregawi)

At least giving heed to these august institutions, the ‘middle ground’ press attracted the talents of younger, professional Ethiopians prior to the 2005 elections. In particular, young people began coalescing around Meznania, a paper founded by recent graduates from Addis Ababa University, and English-language papers such as Fortune. While primarily focused on ﬁnancial reporting and the diplomatic community, Fortune has also embarked on ambitious political coverage, including reporting on election-related violence. Although The Reporter and Fortune were not forced to close in the 2005 post- election period, as Amare’s personal experiences testify, the situation for them has also been trying. Their continued existence is accounted for by the narrow path they were forced to tread, balancing criticism of the government with praise. Media, Elections and Polarised Politics 91

The Reporter, in particular, has been heavily criticised for this in wider society, especially as praise became the more dominant balancing weight. As indicated in an editorial entitled, ‘Opposition Should Accept Election Results for the Sake of Democracy, Unity and the People’, the paper did not, as others did, condemn the outcome of the elections as a fraud, but rather advocated accepting the NEBE’s ruling (The Reporter, 2005). This line was repeatedly stated and editorials in the paper doggedly urged the opposition to join parliament. At the same time as calling for acceptance of the electoral results, The Reporter also increased its criticism of the opposition and Ethiopians in the diaspora, a major source of support for the CUD. Some in the media argued that The Reporter was now strongly aligned with the EPRDF, with one broadly representative blog post of online criticism stating that Amare ‘leads a new network of EPRDF sympathizers who pose as independent journalists and scholars to foreign diplomats and journalists’ (Ethio-Zagol, 2007). Former Federal Prosecutor Shimelis Kamal, who was prosecuting the journalists and opposition leaders, did little to dispel these arguments when he argued that Amare’s change of course was the right one:

The Reporter changed course. Before Amare was calling for the public to establish a transitional government which was in flagrant violation of the constitution. He made various utterances that could have put him in the dock but he’s rectified his ways. (Interview: Shimelis Kamal) An article written on a pro-TPLF website under the pseudonym ‘Mathza’ also gave the impression The Reporter was now fully in the governmental fold. Mathza, believed by some to be Meles himself, argued that Amare’s publication ‘is now the target of the Diaspora simply because its reporting of the current situation is not 10 in line with the oppositions’ narrow agenda, thinking and approach.’ But Amare, along with the government, was also taken aback by the widespread support that the 11 opposition had gained. The role of online forums as a space for spirited debate, particularly as it prominently brought forward voices from the diaspora, made the 2005 elections the first where ICTs played a significant role. Many of the popular newspapers such as

10 Mathza also argued on the pro-TPLF website www.aigaforum.com that: Amare Aregawi of the Ethiopian Reporter is the latest victim of blind detractors muzzling the voices of reason. The Ethiopian Reporter which is popular and used to be hailed neutral and balanced by the opposition camp is now the target of the Diaspora simply because its reporting of the current situation is not in line with the oppositions’ narrow agenda, thinking and approach. His critics are telling him to “adhere to the basic tenets of journalism, i.e. objectivity and fairness” if he wants to remain part of the free press. Apparently, a paper that does not blindly propagate the oppositions’ agenda is and cannot be considered a member of the free press. It is ironic for the opposition and supporters to cite ‘objectivity and fairness’! 19 December 2005, Mathza, ‘Truth Will Triumph’. Available at: www.aigaforum.com/truth_ will_triumph.htm. 11 21 May 2005, Editorial, The Reporter,p.2. 92 Media, Conﬂict and the State in Africa

Ethiop and Menelik regularly engaged with the diaspora and republished articles from international blogs and websites, much of which were critical of the EPRDF. The diaspora has long been a stronghold of opposition support, and it was telling that once the CUD leaders were released from prison in 2007 they made a trip to the United States and Europe to garner support, sort out their disagreements over the 12 power structure and thank their financiers. Given the media restrictions within the country, the diaspora has tended to have an oversized role in Ethiopia’s public debates. With improved Internet access and the provision of satellite channels broadcasting from the United States, Europe and neighbouring Eritrea, new technologies have allowed the domestically unsayable to at least be heard at home. However, during and after the post-election violence, the government frequently blocked blogging websites such as Blogger and websites that were hosting material 13 critical of the EPRDF. This was made easier as at this point Facebook was still in its early development with little presence in Africa and Twitter had yet to be launched. The Ethiopian Telecommunications Corporation, one of the few remaining government monopolies in this sector on the continent, also blocked text messages for more than two years following the elections, reflecting the influence of text messages in mobilising protesters.

tightening the noose: the 2010 and 2015 elections

If the aftermath of the 2005 elections was stained by a violent and concerted effort by the EPRDF to seize greater control in the face of an unwelcome set of electoral results, ten years later and the 2015 elections can be seen as a culmination of a project to ensure that such competition does not threaten to undermine the EPRDFs political agenda again. The 2015 electoral cycle saw the EPRDF embark upon a massive project of party mobilisation, surveillance and political restructuring. This helped the EPRDF and its allies take a clean sweep of all 547 seats in parliament, a performance overshadowing even the most brazen efforts made by other autocratic regimes such as Paul Kagame in Rwanda, who had recently won an election with 93 per cent of the vote. EPRDF leaders drew on old lessons from the struggle against the Derg as they sought mass mobilisation after the 2005 election, particularly when it came to reaching out to the peasantry, which continued to be seen as its core constituency. The ﬁgures here are startling: party membership grew from around 760,000 in

12 The diaspora has been particularly active in the United States, where there is the largest group of Ethiopians outside of Ethiopia. Ethiopians there intensely lobbied congressmen to tie security aid to human rights through the Ethiopia Democracy and Accountability Act of 2007 (H.R.2003). This bill has undoubtedly put some pressure on the EPRDF to release the political prisoners. 13 This included some of the most well-known blogs such as www.ethiomedia.com; www.nazret .com and www.ethiopianreview.com. The CUD website www.kinijit.org was also blocked. Media, Elections and Polarised Politics 93

2005 to more than 5 million in 2010 (Tronvoll, 2011). After the election, membership continued to grow, and by 2015 stood at around 7 million members (Mosley, 2015). In achieving this growth, the EPRDF built upon its initial ‘one to five’ network approach, where a public servant or ‘enlightened farmer’ was responsible for recruiting five others to the establishment of developmental groups (Mosley, 2015). Lefort describes some of the efforts made in selected rural communities in the south-east of Amhara state, where the authorities established Peasant Associations that included party members and ‘strong farmers’. Large meetings were organised, where attendees were both financially compensated for their participation and told that they were now party members (Lefort, 2010: 442). There was also a renewed emphasis on groups such as women and youth associations, as well as women and youth leagues (the focus on the leagues targeted those that had already accepted the programme of the EPRDF). As part of this effort, Roman Gebreselassie, an EPRDF Council Member and former female struggle fighter, was appointed to oversee the mobilisation of this sector. The EPRDF also sought to expand access to local councils and further empower local government officials in the kebeles (the smallest administrative unit). The plan here was to create a dependency on government service programmes as well as a channel through which the central party could threaten sanctions and intimidate those that did not support the EPRDF. But while the focus and success of much of this activity was on the peasantry, the EPRDF also developed a strategy for urban and unemployed youth to address what they saw to be their central role in the election-related violence and protests of 2005. The establishment of Youth Associ- ations was closely tied to new projects to address youth unemployment, including small-scale entrepreneurship programmes with an estimated $300 million (USD) to support more than 1 million anticipated beneficiaries (Di Nunzio, 2014). Efforts to co-opt youth in urban areas and embed the party in everyday life, have, however, not gone unchallenged. From extensive ethnographic work, Marco Di Nunzio describes how youth in Addis Ababa often appear to go along with the symbolism of the EPRDF’s initiatives but quietly resist by mocking slogans during rallies, for example (Di Nunzio, 2014). This suggests that while the increased party membership signals success, the depth of these allegiances is often low and the 7 million members figure also has a superficial property. Thus in many spaces, the EPRDF’s mobilisation techniques have only intensified the distrust and polarisation that has characterised the EPRDF’s leadership of the country. Ethiopian ruling parties have a long history of developing comprehensive and extensive surveillance networks. In the 2010 and 2015 elections, these old traditions joined new technologies as the EPRDF honed its online surveillance techniques, creating one of the continent’s most ambitious apparatuses for monitoring and censoring Internet and mobile phone communications. While Ethiopia’s Internet penetration remained low (just over 3 per cent of people were estimated to have access in 2014), the Internet has had a disproportionate role on contemporary 94 Media, Conflict and the State in Africa politics, providing a forum for criticising the government and a means to connect the diaspora with national political debates. By 2015, Ethiopians were active on Facebook, Whatsapp and a wide range of blogs and online media and magazine publications. With the aid of advanced surveillance technology from the United Kingdom, Italy and Germany, as well as telecommunication monitoring technolo- 14 gies provided by the Chinese telecommunications company ZTE, the government has been able to undertake virtually unrestricted monitoring or intervention in communications. Recordings of phone conversations and records of emails are regularly used against people accused of associating with banned political and/or terrorist organisation during interrogations or trials. Given that the Ethiopian Telecommu- nications Corporation controls all mobile phone coverage, it has been relatively easy for the mobile networks to be closed, either when there are protests in particular communities or when political parties are campaigning in certain regions (Interview: Merera Gudina). And the state’s reach has also extended deep into the diaspora. Advanced spyware, for example, has been used to target two employees of the Ethiopian Satellite Television Service, based in the United States (Marczak, Scott-Railton, & McKune, 2016). While the EPRDF has always commissioned reports and analyses from international experts and donor agencies, giving the appearance that they are open to change and legal reform, the EPRDF has also been ambitious in its use of the law to restructure the political and media space since 2005. The Anti-Terrorism Proclam- ation of 2009 and the Telecom Fraud Offences Proclamation of 2012, both drafted by the Information Network Security Agency (INSA) – Ethiopia’s equivalent of the US National Security Agency (NSA) – emerged as central components of this process. A new discourse hailing security and stability as fundamental ingredients in Ethiopia’s path towards development started to be articulated more widely and visibly. Since coming into force, the Anti-Terrorism Proclamation has been used to override existing norms regulating the media in Ethiopia and to silence, attack or threaten critical journalists inside and outside the country. Out of the thirty-three individuals convicted under the Anti-Terrorism Proclamation between 2009 and 15 2014, thirteen have been journalists. This aggressive use of the law to prosecute and imprison journalists has reinforced a longstanding use of law for the ruling party to consolidate power. The legal culture in Ethiopia stands in contrast with Uganda, where even if the process is flawed, journalists still feel able to challenge legal charges and view court

14 ZTE has been a major supplier of equipment and network development since 2006, when it offered a loan of $1.5 billion to develop Ethiopia’s telecommunication system. 15 Some individuals have been accused of planning terrorist attacks on infrastructure, telecommunications and power lines; others for their alleged support of Ginbot 7; plotting acts of terrorism; or, in the case of the two Swedish journalists who were arrested in the Ogaden region, covering the Ogaden Liberation Front, and charged with terrorism until they were eventually pardoned. Media, Elections and Polarised Politics 95 appearances as an opportunity for a more public platform to express their views. The prominent Ugandan journalist Charles Onyango-Obbo, for example, has stated:

He [Museveni] sees our [Monitor’s] attitude as hostility. He realises that he cannot escape from it so he says to us that it is important to understand the nature of the state and the recourses that the state has. The state basically has the laws and the power of coercion. So therefore it is natural that the state would resort to the laws. You might think it is undemocratic repression but that is the law and he says that the state will use those laws to dominate and shape the public space and dialogue ...By the same token, the journalists must also ﬁght their corner. You must protect your side of this bargain. Therefore you shouldn’t expect the state to make your job easier ... the state’s job is not to make it easier for people that are contesting its power to function: no, it’s your job if you are journalist or a civil society activist. Don’t expect that your opponent will help you win the game. (Interview: Charles Onyango-Obbo)

The ability to challenge the system and ‘fight your corner’ requires a certain confidence in institutions, particularly the rule of law, that is rarely seen in Ethiopia. For many Ethiopian journalists faced with legal charges, ‘exit’ is the most viable option. This has resulted in a constant stream of journalists leaving the country since the early 1990s. In the great majority of these cases, very real concerns underpinned the decision to leave but the health of the media has also suffered from a tendency on the part of some journalists to use their involvement with the media to seek asylum abroad. Given the government’s tremendous damage to the media and their great efforts to silence all dissenting voices after 2005, the decision to escape such a repressive environment is understandable. Nonetheless this outflow of talent hampers the development of institutional memory and leaves few trained journalists and a lack of more senior figures that are respected and able to effectively advocate for the media. There have been some more recent exceptions to this trend, including the case of the Zone 9 bloggers, many of whom have remained in Ethiopia to continue to contest and fight charges against them, and have also consequently been rearrested. In such a context, however, politics prevails over legal processes, and debates on reforming media and communications legislation only serve as diversions from underlying issues and efforts on the part of the party to consolidate power.

conclusion

The role of a longstanding and unique Ethiopian political culture in explaining recent political events and how the EPRDF has sought to consolidate power after the 2005 election has been highly contested and controversial (Abbink, 2006; Hagmann, 2006). While many scholars of Ethiopia have regularly identified and highlighted such aspects as language, hierarchical relationships and defer- ence for authority, this mode of analysis risks obscuring the complex political and 96 Media, Conflict and the State in Africa international factors that have been highlighted in this chapter. Without reaching 16 for a longue durée-type analysis, it is nonetheless clear that a pernicious atmosphere of distrust pervades many different aspects of Ethiopian society, including the media. Democratic institutions and a free media are complicated edifices, the product of many labours and different designs and whose continued security is reliant upon assiduous maintenance. To work effectively, these structures require trust. But as the interviewees whose testimonies have undergirded this book repeatedly stated, Ethiopia’s civic spaces and political institutions are marked by hierarchy, a complex relationship with central authority and suspicion. This culture of suspicion pervades virtually all aspects of society, political, social and civil. During interviews, informants regularly spoke to a theme that you, ‘can’t trust your enemies’, or argued that you are either on one side or the other, ‘there is nothing in the middle’. Compro- mise, they so often agreed, ‘makes you look weak’. Older interviewees regularly mentioned that a problem of the current political crisis is that no one wants to be in the middle. If you are in the middle, you can be misinterpreted. Rather, everyone wants to know exactly where someone stands, so people typically choose one side or the other. As Zerihun Teshome, of the pro-government newspaper Iftin, noted,

There is discomfort for Ethiopians in the grey area; this is a country of slogans. We say we will do it ...but it’s difﬁcult to bring stakeholders together. This government is scared of being ﬁngerprinted as being a push behind something. Good projects get dumped, so they try to look uninterested. (Interview: Zerihun Teshome) The government has made little headway in restoring trust; indeed, the violence and repression that followed the 2005 election has achieved quite the opposite. Riding roughshod over the Conference on Peace and Reconciliation and the concerns of Ethiopians from all regions, the EPRDF did not have a strategy for reconciliation when it came to power and it appears to still not have one. The few small steps the government has taken have been tentative and clumsy. By failing to take seriously comments within the private media or to meet with journalists and respond to their commentary or questions on a sustained basis, the government has done little to mitigate polarisation and improve the lack of trust that cripples Ethiopian political life. And by attempting to de-legitimise opposing arguments by suggesting that they are so peripheral and radical not to warrant engagement, they have reinforced the notion of an autocratic party with little genuine interest in what others think.

16 As popularised by the Annales School. part ii

Uganda

The National Resistance Movement and the Decline of Political Ideology

When president Museveni ﬁrst came to power in 1986, he promised a new form of politics, rooted in non-sectarianism. Museveni hoped to form a government where peace and security would be the overriding concern, marking a clear departure from Uganda’s violent and recent past. In What is Africa’s Problem?, a book he published shortly after becoming president, Museveni argued that ‘the problem of Africa in general and Uganda in particular is not the people but leaders who want to overstay in power’ (as cited in Tangri & Mwenda, 2010: 32). For many observers, however, these words have carried an undesired prophetic weight for Museveni’s own long future in Uganda’s politics. At different times, Museveni has been called a new leader representing democratic tendencies tempered by African realities (Connell & Smyth, 1998; Ottaway, 1999), a neo-populist (Carbone, 2005) and more recently, a competitive authoritarian (Kagoro, 2016). This range of opinion characterises the ambiguity inherent in Museveni’s conception and implementation of a form of broad-based participatory politics under a one-party state, the Movement System. Determined by the twin objectives of securing stability and promoting participation in the democratic process, the Movement System has evidenced wider continental trends since the 1990s of allowing political competition and facilitating the ascen- dance of democracy while also exhibiting autocratic tendencies to maintain single- party control. In more recent times, however, the rough equilibrium demanded from these two objectives for the coherence of the system seems lost, as Museveni appears to pursue power as an objective in and of itself. Where the Movement System once stood as an aspiration to develop a novel ‘no-party system’, Uganda now better represents a one- party state with a façade of multi-party politics. The 2016 elections were particularly striking. Previously, the NRM had used the greater ideals of the Ugandan nation- building project to appeal to supporters and voters, but in 2016 the cold logic of money and patronage has come to the fore. As Museveni moved across Uganda campaigning, he was mostly offering promises of services or infrastructure rather

99 100 Media, Conﬂict and the State in Africa than a vision of Uganda in the future. The NRM, the organization that was once able to mobilise thousands of people to leave their homes, take up arms and struggle for a political project bigger than themselves (or material gain) was no longer operating in this spirit (Mwenda, 2016). Through a focus on state-building and governance initiatives, this chapter explores the origins of these trends and tensions by tracing the roots of popular mobilisation and the strategy of persuasion and participation that the NRM sought to cultivate during the struggle and early days of its government.

the roots and early practice of the nrm’s ideology, 1981–1986

The NRM was formally founded in 1981 after the then-ruling president Milton Obote, with the support of Tanzanian president, Julius Nyerere, claimed to have won highly contested elections. The voting was widely regarded as having been rigged, and most egregiously in the south where Obote, who hailed from the north, had few supporters and many votes. Compelled to act, Museveni and his followers formed the Popular Resistance Army (PRA), a body that would ultimately become 1 the NRM. Believing that a successful coup d’état would be almost impossible given the presence of the Tanzanian army in the country, overseeing the elections, they found possibilities in the widespread discontent across the country, particularly in the central and western districts. This area would come to be known as the Luwero Triangle and gave the NRM the grassroots and geographical support needed to consider armed struggle, a decision that profoundly shaped the NRM’s ideological makeup for years to come. In turning to guerrilla warfare, the political thought of Che Guevara, Mao Tse-tung and Vladimir Lenin proved particularly inﬂuential, especially in shaping the NRM’s ideas about the role of the vanguard in leading the struggle and the stress placed on the political education of the masses and the structure of political mobilisation. Guevara’s ‘foco’ theory imbued conﬁdence in the nascent NRM with its optimistic message on what is politically possible in even the most repressive of environments (Ngoga, 1998). At the core of foco theory rests the belief that in situations where the population is profoundly oppressed, it is not necessary to wait for ideal conditions to launch an insurrection. Instead, repression can serve as a recruiting sergeant in mobilising support for a revolutionary movement. A group of revolu- tionaries can initiate a small-scale guerrilla war that can then act as a ‘focus’ and inspiration for the wider population in scaling the war up. In this analysis, roving

1 The PRA adopted the name NRM after merging with Yusuf Kironde Lule’s exiled Uganda Freedom Fighters (UFF). Lule became the nominal head of the combined organisation but the UFF contributed little and when Lule died in 1985, Museveni formally became the head of the NRM. The NRM and the Decline of Political Ideology 101 bands of guerrilla fighters become a key element in creating revolutionary conditions and gaining support of the broader population. This is a necessarily elitist approach to revolutionary theory with the foco marching to their own drumbeat of what is politically possible, leading the masses as a vanguard in their own struggles without having to actually merge with them. In many respects, Uganda was ripe for such an approach. Obote was loathed in many parts of the country, particularly in Buganda, where he was disliked for his treatment of the Kabaka (the king of Buganda), who was forced to flee from the palace in in 1966, and in West Nile, where the population was being attacked for supposedly continuing to support the previous president, Idi Amin. Further alienat- ing people, the regime employed exceedingly repressive measures against the NRM when the fighting started, profiling many young Ugandans as being NRM sympathisers. This course of action only pushed people into the NRM fold. Particularly targeted were Rwandans resident in Uganda, mostly Tutsi refugees and a group which the NRM received notable support from. Obote often sought to characterise Museveni as a Rwandan interfering in Uganda’s internal affairs. This accusation, combined with the attacks on the Rwandan community, galvanised support amongst this constituency, and by January 1986 a quarter of the National Resistance Army’s membership (the military wing of the NRM) was of Rwandan origin (Ngoga, 1998). In what serves as a good example for Guevera’s analysis, a cyclical relationship emerged where the repressive tactics of the Obote regime intensified as the NRA became increasingly successful. Just as Mengistu and the Derg’s repressive cruelties became a powerful recruiting tool for the TPLF in Ethiopia, Obote’s brutishness did the same for the NRA. In both countries the guerrilla movements were careful not to upset this dynamic, carefully maintaining good relations with civilians by avoiding unnecessary pressures or harassment. Closer to home, the NRM also drew lessons in how to structure itself from other liberation movements on the continent, including the Frente de Libertação de Moçambique (FRELIMO), South Africa’s African National Congress (ANC), the South West Africa People’s Organization (SWAPO) in what is now Namibia and the Zimbabwe African National Union-Patriotic Front (Zanu-PF). Under Nyerere, Tanzania was a sanctuary for these groups and they were often offered logistical or military support. This setting also provided opportunities for exchanging ideas between liberation fronts across southern, and in the case of Uganda reaching up into eastern, Africa. There was, in the words of former Tanzanian president, Benjamin Mkapa (1995–2005), a strategy to:

give voice to the movements ...we would give pages to them. We would interview them, we would reproduce their manifestos, and we would publish their press releases, which would give them a great deal of conﬁdence. ... and particularly with regards to the radio, they were given special time which was beamed to all southern Africa, so that helped them to carry the message. (Interview: Benjamin Mkapa) 102 Media, Conﬂict and the State in Africa

Throughout the guerrilla war, Museveni drew from these conversations and it was actually in Tanzania that a precursor to the NRM was established. After going into exile in Tanzania in 1967 and joining the University of Dar es Salaam where he was active in radical student politics, Museveni made strong links with other liberation fronts as chair of the University Students’ African Revolutionary Front (USARF). The USARF was formed of a group of students from around the continent that were advocating anti-colonialist, pan-African and often Marxist ideas. It was at the Uni- versity of Dar es Salaam that Museveni met Eduardo Mondlane, founding president of FRELIMO, for example, and in 1968 Museveni personally visited a FRELIMO safe zone (Kasfir, 2005: 276; Museveni, 1997: 28, 30). Following the argument of Mao Tse-tung that a revolutionary war could only emerge successfully after engaging in extensive groundwork, the NRM sought not only to accrue support from the exploits on the battlefield in the manner of Guevara, but it also prioritised political education to organise people and establish the structures that could replace the weak state that currently existed. Where there existed an absence of a military advantage on the field of battle, propaganda was seen by Mao to be at the core of effective education and mobilisation strategies (Katzenbach & Hanrahan, 1955). Mao’s thought, and indeed the practice of the Chinese Communist Party, highlighted the success of groups that had defeated armies that had the advantage of superior military hardware, a factor that resonated with the NRM given Obote’s relative strength and the support he drew from regional states. The NRM paid careful attention to all these lessons as it built an ambitious organisational structure. This was based upon the Resistance Councils (RCs) that later became institutionalised in the Ugandan state after the NRM seized power and remain the foundation of the Movement System today. The RCs were initially established as rebel support structures to direct food and supplies to NRA fighters in the field. As such, the RCs were key to the NRM’s strategy of protracted armed struggle, but as the guerrilla war progressed, they also held an important role in the governance of liberated zones. RCs were, in essence, the tool through which local communities could govern themselves in the absence of state authorities (Golooba- Mutebi, 2004). Influenced by Lenin’s principles of democratic centralism, the National Resist- ance Council (NRC) was the head of this structure. Comprising several committees, including the External Subcommittee under who’s remit the Uganda Resistance News fell, the NRC sought to develop a strong commitment to the central organisation while giving peasant communities a degree of self-government without constraining the central leadership. Other committees included the Political and Diplomatic Sub-Committee, which was headed by Museveni’s deputy in the NRA High Command, Eriya Kategaya, and was responsible for informing the international community and organising the Resistance Councils in the liberated zones and the Finance and Supplies Committee. Museveni was head of both the National The NRM and the Decline of Political Ideology 103

Resistance Army Council (NRAC) and High Command, which were responsible for setting military policy and leading the insurgency. In an effort to reduce a reliance on Museveni, the NRAC included commanders of all battalions and heads of administrative departments. To ensure good governance, the role of Political Commissar was established so that all NRM supporters and fighters would be indoctrinated in the rationale of the struggle. Soldiers were encouraged to engage in constructive criticism and permitted to criticise commanding officers, but only as long as it was done openly and in good faith. Placing limits on what could and could not be said was regarded as an important part of the process and later had an impact on the NRMs approach to the press and tolerance of debate. Tight discipline was also intended to hold NRM members to a high standard that would bring them admiration and support from the public (Kasfir, 2005: 285). The fighters had a strict code of conduct for which some offences were considered to be Category A and could lead to the death penalty. This included crimes such as murdering a civilian and treason. Category B crimes were less serious and included theft, encouraging tribalism and claiming group victories individually. Punishment was less severe and could include suspension, demotion or imprisonment (Ngoga, 1998). The NRM took great care to avoid factionalism and ethnic divisions. Promotion was based on achievement rather than education, and induction training was uniform regardless of background. Strict party discipline and the work of the political commissars helped establish adherence to the NRM’s ideology internally but, while in the bush, the NRM also developed a clear political agenda to mobilise the people in support of the values and objectives for which it fought. This plan, known as the Ten-Point Programme, was implemented as the political agenda when the NRM came to power. The introduction to the programme states that:

The Ten Point Programme or areas which the Movement pledges to cover in the programme are democracy, security, unity, independence, economy, social services, misuse of public ofﬁce, displaced persons, regional co-operation and strategy of the mixed economy by the Movement and acts as a guide in the people’s struggle 2 against the neo-colonial regimes. Returned to again and again as a reference point throughout the years of the NRM’s 3 rule, the Ten-Point Programme was a fundamental expression of the NRM’s ideological positions. The Programme described an economically ‘stagnant’ Uganda and set out how the points could form ‘a basis for a national coalition of democratic, political and social forces, that could at last, bring some motion’. The ﬁrst point of the programme emphasised the ‘establishment of popular democracy’, to be forged

2 NRM (undated) Ten-Point Programme of NRM, Kampala, NRM Publications. 3 The Ten-Point Programme was later replaced by the Fifteen-Point Programme and also provided the template for the Eight-Point Programme that the Rwandan Patriotic Front implemented when it came to power in Rwanda. 104 Media, Conﬂict and the State in Africa from parliamentary democracy, the RCs and the provision of a decent standard of living. The second point addressed the ‘restoration of security’, promising the protection of private property and the end of the history of state-instigated violence. Related to the second point, the third point called for the ‘consolidation of National Unity’, a unity the NRM argued as having been threatened by the sectarian violence 4 which has hindered groups working together for national development causes. While tensions invariably arose between these points (matching, for example, the emphasis on participatory and parliamentary democracy), taken together the Ten- Point Programme reﬂects the NRM’s early and ambitious approach to a form of participatory democracy.

the media and political mobilisation

The NRM’s brand of democratic populism, with a strong investment in reaching out to the wider population not only influenced the way in which the NRM consolidated power after taking over the state with the RCs, but it has also affected the way in which the government and media relate. In contrast to Ethiopia, where the EPRDF’s emphasis on convincing the population of its cause through demonstrat- ing progress, the NRM’s strategy of persuasion required the leadership to debate and argue its case, while accepting criticism. Unlike the EPRDF’s early policy of wilfully ignoring the concerns of the media, relations between the media and the government were viewed by the NRM as a right from the state (albeit one that the media had to fight for). From an early stage in the war, a media and propaganda strategy was recognised by the NRM as central for successful political mobilisation and garnering mass support for the movement. In this regard, Mao offered explicit and practical lessons: ‘Every large guerrilla unit should have a printing press and mimeograph stone. They must also have paper on which to print propaganda leaflets and notices ...in guerrilla areas there should be a printing press or lead-type press’ (Mao, 1969: 61). The NRM acted accordingly, establishing the aforementioned Uganda Resistance

4 The fourth point looks at ‘Defending National Independence’, which points critically at the interventions of international actors in Amin and Obote’s time – particularly of Westerners – and argues that Ugandan interests must come first and absolute independence from all external actors is key. Point five extensively outlines a plan under the heading, ‘Building a National Economy’, and notes that this is ‘probably the most important point of the whole programme’. This section advocates a mixed and integrated economy that is not dependent on external actors but is self-sufficient. The sixth point advocates for the ‘Restoration and rehabilitation of Social Services’, including health, education and access to clean water. Elimination of corruption and misuse of power is the following point, followed by the resettlement of displaced people in point eight. Point nine looks at regional cooperation and human rights that primarily advocate for regional collaborations. The final point is on following a strategy of mixed economy – a rejection of the laissez faire of pure capitalism but a system in which the state takes over particular sectors to guide the economy while the majority of economic activities will be carried out by private entrepreneurs. The NRM and the Decline of Political Ideology 105

News as a way of publicising the struggle and explaining the NRM’s positions and 5 rationale behind adopting armed struggle. As Eriya Kategaya explained, ‘Maoist movements invest in persuasion, political debate. Guerrilla movements that were supported by Soviets cared more about the military’ (Interview: Eriya Kategaya). Given the NRM’s lack of arms and independence from Soviet patronage, the efﬁ- cacy, indeed necessity, of this approach was clear and the NRM invested heavily in persuading people. At times, this meant that the NRM even entered careful dialogue with the people, for as Kategaya explained, ‘you can’t mobilize support without feedback’ (Interview: Eriya Kategaya). The propaganda efforts of the NRM were aided by the propaganda wings of other liberation movements in the region, many of which shared similar ideological grounding. Appreciating this regional context is important, for much of the NRM’s propaganda activities were located outside of Uganda, including the printing and publication of the Uganda Resistance News. Kategaya explains that:

In the beginning, when the NRM was underground we didn’t have a clear media strategy or public publicity. The first bulletin issued was in June 1981 just to announce that there is a war. In 1982 a group of NRM leaders went to London where they met Allison Miller from the Times of London and gave her an interview about what they were doing, what areas were controlled by the NRM. She was the one to coin the term the ‘Luwero Triangle’ and was the first journalist to give the NRM exposure. Soon after, the Resistance News was established and published in Nairobi, and smuggled into Uganda. This publication carried a number of articles explaining why they were fighting and the rationale behind their armed struggle. (Interview: Eriya Kategaya) The Uganda Resistance News sought to target both Ugandans and regional and international elites, hoping to establish international support for the movement. Following the meeting with Allison Miller, a major component of the NRM’s propaganda strategy was to bring Western journalists to the region. The NRM would contact international journalists it had identified as potentially sympathetic or those that might simply be willing to make the trip. Encouraging someone perceived as independent to tell the story of the struggle, it was believed, would lead to greater credibility for the NRM. Journalists who visited the bush were seen as a crucial conduit for disseminating information. This wartime strategy later had a major impact on The New Vision, the paper established by the NRM when it came to power. At the invitation of the NRM leadership, the founding Editor-in-Chief of The New Vision was a British journalist, William Pike, who first engaged with the NRM during his visits to liberated areas in the 1980s while working for the

5 Selected excerpts from the Uganda Resistance News are available in the publication Mission to Freedom: Uganda Resistance News 1981–1985 (Kampala: Directorate of Information and Mass Mobilisation, NRM Secretariat, 1990). 106 Media, Conﬂict and the State in Africa

British magazine South. Pike went on to oversee The New Vision’s development for 20 years, acting as Managing Director. In its pages, the Uganda Resistance News regularly invoked ideas of freedom of expression, and this was central to the propaganda messages that the NRM promoted. Attaching the NRM strongly to freedom of expression served to strategically differentiate the movement from the Obote government and highlighted a key aspect of the existing regime they hoped to overturn in power. Many articles focused on the extent to which the Obote government was restricting media and highlighted the plight of local journalists who faced censorship and persecution. The harsh treatment of journalists was often marked as a sign of Obote’s weakness and an indication that the government was unable to engage in critical discussion or cope with unfavourable comments. To illustrate through one indicative example, an article entitled ‘Obote’s Con- tempt for the Press’ focused on ‘an absurd contradiction’, whereby ‘he [Obote] attacks and is critical of the foreign press but is equally hostile of the local press.’ The paper notes that at a political rally in Bushenyi, Obote said of the Western mass media ‘Western journalists coming to Uganda have biased views and in their writing distort the real state of affairs in Uganda.’ In The Uganda Resistance News, these incidents of persecution of foreign journalists and hostility towards their presence by the Obote regime are clearly condemned. The same editorial opens by arguing:

The story on the relationship between Obote’s regime and the Press is a long and disconcerting one. It is a story of constant conﬂict – conﬂict generated as usual by the unpopularity of his regime and non-partisan World Press ...there is a tendency for the said government to refer to everything that appears in the Press about Uganda as ‘Foreign Imperialist Propaganda’ or as out-right ‘Anti-African’ (National Resistance Movement Secretariat, 1990: 102)

Such lines of argument and the sense of camaraderie with the international press witnessed in these years contrasts with current NRM discourse about the international media in Uganda. No longer is the international media seen by the NRM as a judicious voice weighing in on domestic matters. In 2011, Museveni responded to coverage by international journalists of anti-government protests by arguing that ‘the media houses, both local and international, such as Al-Jazeera, BBC, NTV, The Daily Monitor, etc., that cheer on these irresponsible people, are enemies of Uganda’s recovery and they will have to be treated as such’ (Museveni, quoted in, Smith, 2011). And the former Minister of Information and National Guidance, Kabakumba Masiko, similarly noted that laws must be amended to deal with journalists that had become ‘enemies of the state’, telling the BBC’s Network Africa programme, ‘[I]f you look at the way these media houses have been reporting what has been going on in our country, you realize they were inciting people and trying to show that Uganda is now ungovernable, is under ﬁre as if the state is about to collapse.’ (Masiko, quoted in Smith, 2011). During the 2016 elections, the BBC’s The NRM and the Decline of Political Ideology 107

Catherine Byaruhanga was brieﬂy detained for allegedly ﬁlming without the permission of the security services (Ifex, 2016). The NRM’s criticism of foreign media outlets is not necessarily surprising. Leaders are generally hostile to bad press, but the language used and the attention given to international coverage by prominent members of the NRM government suggest a level of hostility more reminiscent of the Obote period than the values and ideology the NRM promulgated in the 1980s and early 1990s.

the politics of governing: state-building, constitution-making and participation

The NRA’s guerrilla war finally concluded in 1986 following a disastrous period in Uganda’s central governance. The commander of the Uganda National Libera- tion Army (UNLA), Oyite Ojok, died in a helicopter crash in December 1983 and without his leadership the UNLA proved unable to function. This left Obote exposed and in July 1985 he was overthrown in an internal coup d’état by Tito Okello. Disputes over who would succeed arose between the Acholi and Langi groups, which further weakened an already delicate situation. Meanwhile, the NRA used this period to consolidate gains and attract large numbers of troops that had defected from the UNLA, gaining control of the entire southwest of the country. While President Moi of Kenya brought together Okello’s government and the NRA for peace talks in Nairobi, by this time the NRA believed that a military victory was within reach so it saw little need to respect the process. NRA troops seized the capital city, Kampala, on 26 January 1986. Met by a weakened central state after years of conflict, one of the first steps the NRM took in power was to ban the exercise of party politics for four years (Human Rights Watch, 1999). This action was taken partly because the leadership feared that even after the extensive propaganda campaigns and efforts to widely mobilise the populace during the war, the NRM was still not yet nationally recognised and would struggle in competitive elections. But the NRM also diagnosed party politics as a key source of the divisions in Uganda and argued that adopting a pluralist democratic model was inappropriate for the current stage of Uganda’s development. In the NRM’s analysis, political parties in the West functioned to represent the class interests of industrialised societies. In pre-industrial Uganda, however, the NRM argued that parties would coalesce around ethnic or religious groups, thereby accentuating divisions. Eschewing the liberal democratic expectations of the West, this was a leading justification for the establishment of the Movement System. The NRM argued that the Movement System differed from one-party systems because through the continued presence of the RCs in peacetime, everyone could participate and elect representatives. After coming to power, RCs (in the 1995 constitution, RCs were renamed Local Councils, or LCs) were established in every district and formally incorporated into 108 Media, Conflict and the State in Africa

6 the administrative structure of government. In the early 1990s and for much of the 2000s, the RCs and LCs were widely supported within Uganda as an innovative model of public participation. As there was a requirement for each committee to have a woman representative, they were also celebrated as a liberating force for women by giving them a voice in the public space. The opinions of citizens have often been shared by academics who have also interpreted the RCs and LCs as unique experiments in the devolution of power and grassroots democracy and important channels for marginalised groups to articulate their interests and increase their voice and participation (Karlström, 1996; Mudoola, 1989; Nsibambi, 1991). In 1988 Eriya Kategaya, speaking as the First Deputy Prime Minister, argued the important role of the RCs in creating unity:

Because for the first time people are meeting in RCs regardless of their political belief in one organisation which has never been there before. Before, our people were fighting through parties. Even brothers who are in different parties would not meet to discuss their problems but now through RCs, all members of the community at the village level meet and discuss their problems ...People can sit down and talk together, discuss their problems in the village, look for solutions to those problems regardless of their political beliefs, even religion ...During the struggle ...the lesson we learnt is that when people are having a common objective, they will really unite regardless of tribe and religion (National Resistance Council, 1988: 160) By filling a vacuum left by the state and serving the NRM, the RCs were also seen as a way of extending the NRM’s agenda of political education and providing a forum for the people to ‘practise’ democracy. This can be cynically viewed as the RCs being designed as a way to keep the people sufficiently amused with the pretence of democracy while the leadership indulged in patronage and authoritarian tendencies. But the RCs were consistent with the NRM’s wider thoughts and complemented the widely held view of Museveni as ‘the teacher’. RCs were regarded as a ‘big school’ for teaching appropriate democratic habits. According to the NRM, these habits were not natural but had to be practiced. As Kategaya elaborates:

I hope that through the RCs we shall teach our people to accept and handle different points of view and even when there are differences to regard each other as Ugandans ﬁrst and foremost. The holding of different views does not make you less of a citizen than the other and this has been a problem in this country where

6 Today there are five levels of LCs. This organisational structure is designed so that problems are presented first at the most immediate LC and then make their way up through the levels until the problem is sufficiently addressed. Similarly, directives are channeled down through the levels until implemented at the appropriate level. All LCs are elected directly by the people and the national government represents itself through Resident District Commissioners (RDCs) at the district level. The relationship between the chairperson of the fifth and highest LC and the RDC can be complex and it is difficult to decipher who is more powerful. Dynamics between the levels also vary between districts. The NRM and the Decline of Political Ideology 109

you ﬁnd that somebody loses a job because he is reported to you as having voted a wrong party. Now what does engineering got to do with voting? (National Resistance Council, 1988: 162)

In response to their critics, the form of democracy the NRM believed they facilitated through the RCs was more direct and active than that they saw as practised in most parliamentary democracies. Where citizens in Western democracies might engage in politics by casting a vote only once every four or five years in national elections, part of the rationale behind the RCs was that it would force Ugandans to be concerned and participate with politics on a quotidian level, catalysing an involvement that would strengthen internal security. By attempting to provide a framework through which conflicts could be resolved and justice executed, it was the NRM’s hope that the RCs and LCs would mean fewer people would resort to violence. There has, however, been a growing disillusionment with the NRM’s political process and the reputation of the RCs has come under considerable pressure. For example, the Ugandan academic Frederick Golooba-Mutebi describes a process whereby the public meetings that were at the core of the consultative process began to atrophy due to ‘participation fatigue’ (2004). In his analysis, the enthusiasm for direct, regular and systematic engagement in governing processes often became too burdensome. Combined with this growing lethargy was an inability of the RCs to meet expectations. The RCs were based on assumptions, theories and expectations about the feasibility and role of popular participation that simply could not be met in practice. While decision-making was meant to have been transferred from the central government to the local authorities, this was not always the case in practice. Political hierarchy and power dynamics have characterised the relationship between different governing authorities in many districts. Villagers could be active and know- ing players in this process, giving their leaders significant space to govern, despite often expressing dissatisfaction with them. The NRM’s emphasis on participation and promoting citizen engagement was also pronounced in the process of crafting a new constitution. In 1988 Museveni established a special Ugandan Constitutional Commission (UCC) under the leadership of Supreme Court Justice Ben Odoki, tasked with consulting the people and preparing a draft for approval by a constituent assembly. Fresh presidential and parliamentary elections were then to be held under this constitution. The NRM saw the constitution-making process as part of the effort to foster a new political culture and as an extension of the political education campaigns witnessed during the struggle. As explained in their political materials, the NRM believed that ‘constitutions imposed on the people by guise, wile or force cannot be the basis of stable and peaceful governance of men’ (National Resistance Movement, 1984: 4). In significant contrast to the EPRDF’s approach, by most accounts the NRM have been true to their word. Few countries in the world have embarked on such an ambitious process of inclusive, thorough and relatively transparent consultations (Bussey, 2005; 110 Media, Conflict and the State in Africa

Waliggo, 2001). Between 1989 and 1992, the UCC was extraordinarily active. Touring the whole country, the UCC held 86 district seminars, attended 870 educational forums, collected written and oral testimony and analysed 25,547 memoranda (Moehler, 2006). ‘Uganda,’ Oliver Furley and James Katalikawe write, ‘can surely claim to have carried out the most lengthy and thorough constitution-making process in Africa, if not the world’ (Furley & Katalikawe, 1997: 260). The primary issues for the Constitutional Commission had to do with balancing federalism and centralism, the reinstatement of monarchies and whether the Move- ment System should continue or multipartyism should be reintroduced. This process was completed in 1995. A unitary system was ultimately chosen, while it was decided that the Movement System should continue indefinitely. The Constitution also reflected the NRM’s political ideology embodied in the RCs and LCs and formally recognised the Movement’s highly ambitious plan of decentralisation. All Ugandans were required to be members of the NRM, and the Constitution stressed that decentralisation was to be the primary system for realising ‘democratic governance’ and allowing greater citizen participation in politics. The single or no-party system remained in place until 2005 when a referendum on restoring multi-party politics was held, which was approved by 92.5 per cent of voters after both the government and opposition came out in favour of the change (Osike & Olupot, 2005). Freedom of expression was also embedded in the Constitution. Article 29 states every person shall have the right to ‘freedom of speech and expression which shall include freedom of the press and other media’ (Constitution of the Republic of Uganda, 1995). Museveni had long argued that the best policies emerge from free debate, criticism and engagement. From early in the struggle, the NRM was arguing publicly that, ‘Freedom of speech is a right of the people and not a favour from the government’ (Museveni, quoted in, Uganda Times, 1980). However, as in many countries pursuing a development agenda (Ethiopia included), the support for free speech has not been unequivocal. Speaking to the need to balance human rights and development, Museveni argued in 1987, ‘It is not enough to speak of freedom of speech and freedom from arrest. People must have freedom from hunger, disease and leaking roofs’ (Museveni, quoted in, Daily Monitor, 2014). Indeed, the greatest challenge for the Constitution and the Movement System has come from Museveni himself and particularly his advocacy of repealing Article 105 (2) (which limits the terms a president can serve to two) through a 2005 constitutional referendum. The controversial referendum was extremely divisive and many have regarded it as a sign that the Movement System has lost its way, citing widespread allegations that parliamentarians were openly bribed to allow the two-thirds majority required (Tripp, 2010b). But this referendum also occurred in the context of a constitution that within a decade of its passing had already had more than 100 amend- ments, leading some to argue that the Constitution has been too much of a policy tool rather than a binding and visionary document setting out the democratic and development ideals of the country. Not surprisingly, some have also argued that the The NRM and the Decline of Political Ideology 111 democratic move towards empowering people through decentralisation has never been more than a façade (Mugaju, 2000; Oloka-Onyango, 2000) and has exacerbated ethnic divisions and local-level conflicts (Green, 2008). Devra Moehler, drawing on her extensive field research, also argues that Ugan- dans who were active in the constitution-making process were no more supportive of it than those who were not. It was actually elites, local politicians and community leaders that had the most influence on determining whether an individual or community would support the document (Moehler, 2006). In this context, elites have a mediating role between direct participation in the process and the government, or constitution-makers themselves. These findings suggest that the ideals and theory of participatory politics the NRM honed in the bush were far more difficult to implement in practice, and when participatory politics fell short, it was not always of the NRM’s own making but rather reflected the reality and priorities of struggling communities. Furthermore, it appears that despite the widespread consultations, little of the people’s views were incorporated into the document (Furley & Katalikawe, 1997). Thus it can be concluded that while the process itself was very important for advancing and creating national understanding of the NRM’s political ideologies, ethos and approach to nation-building, the constitution-making process was largely elite-driven and less attuned to the concerns of the grassroots than the NRM had hoped for in practice.

conclusion

This chapter has focused on the personal characteristics of Museveni and his role in shaping the political ideology of the NRM. In part, this is an inescapable facet of any study of contemporary Uganda. While the NRM is obviously not one person, it has been exceptionally influenced by him. In much the same way as Meles positioned himself within the TPLF and EPRDF, Museveni has sculpted a grand role for himself as leader. In 1987, Ali Mazrui called him the ‘philosopher King’ (1987) and his rapid emergence in assuming this mantle is extraordinary. When Museveni first emerged from the bush in the 1980s, he was largely unknown to most Ugandans. His charismatic leadership, however, both during the insurgency and during the early days of the post-insurgent government, propelled him forward and has been credited as ‘the single most important factor’ in the NRA’s success (Ngoga, 1998). But success has not come without friction, and the tensions between the more recent liberal leanings and the strong radical and socialist commitment that the NRM held during the struggle reflect a pragmatic approach to governing. Museveni not only considered that most Ugandans were not ready for socialism, but realised that the geopolitics were shifting where the liberal causes of human rights, freedom of expression and free elections were what would help to legitimate Uganda as a ‘democratic’ post-war country and Museveni as a credible leader and partner for Western donor countries. 7

A New Vision for the Rebuilding of State Institutions

Past regimes have used sectarianism to divide people along religious and tribal lines. But why should religion become a political matter? Religious matters are between you and your god: politics is about the provision of roads, water, drugs in hospitals, and schools for children. Don’t you see that people who divide you are only using you for their own selﬁsh interests? Our Movement is strong because it has solved the problem of tribal and religious division. -President Museveni 1986 Inauguration

When compared with the rollback of constitutionally limited presidential terms and a more general decline in state recognition of civil and political rights in recent years, it is remarkable to note that the early efforts of the NRM to consolidate power in the late 1980s and early 1990s were done in a reasonably benevolent, even almost enlightened, way and with signiﬁcant support from Ugandans. Political parties could continue to exist, but primarily in name only. All political activity was to fall under the Movement System, which aspired to be a broad tent for all voters and candidates. Encapsulating these lofty ambitions, Museveni argued in his January 1986 inauguration speech:

No one should think that what is happening today is a mere change of guard: it is a fundamental change in the politics of our country. In Africa, we have seen so many changes that change, as such, is nothing short of mere turmoil. We have had one group getting rid of another one, only for it to turn out to be worse than the group it displaced. Please do not count us in that group of people. (Museveni, 2000)

Part of the ‘fundamental change’ the NRM sought was to reshape the relationship Ugandans had with the state. One means the NRM used to achieve this was to build

112 A New Vision for the Rebuilding of State Institutions 113 trust in the government by adopting standards that characterised open societies, including respect for human rights, a tolerance of dissent and the establishment of a rule of law. To the government’s critics this was incongruent with the repression simultaneously occurring in Uganda for which the NRM was also responsible. But the NRM believed these liberal measures could not only help to heal a country plagued by years of sectarian violence, but could also lead to a new kind of politics unique from the Western model. Adopting liberal principles regarding free speech was viewed by the NRM as helping ensure the Movement System remained a constructive form of autocracy and single-party democracy. The formation of a broad-based and inclusive government would, it was promised, form the basis of the new state. This chapter is about the efforts to implement this promise. It focuses on the consolidation of power around the NRM and the efforts to design a state grounded in the principles of the Movement System. It considers the process of institutional transformation and transitions that took place as the NRM addressed the legacy of Idi Amin’s and Milton Obote’s governments and efforts to reconcile different warring factions and groups. It is in this context that the chapter explores a unique experiment in government media and communication on the continent – the development of The New Vision newspaper – a newspaper that has often gone beyond simple political propaganda to be a readable and highly popular media outlet. At times consciously shaped around the NRM’s inclusive agenda, The New Vision has been a signiﬁcant factor that has helped to cultivate a competitive and international media industry in Uganda.

inclusivity and the nrm’s rebuilding of state institutions

When a party comes to power by force or a state is replaced by an external occupying power, there is often a tendency born of great hubris for a pervasive and total abandonment of the ancien régime as institutions are dissolved, bureaucrats fired and new constitutions drafted (Dower, 2010). While Ethiopia’s history under the EPRDF follows in this vein, another recent and more extreme example of this type of approach to state-building in recent years has been the case of Iraq and the de-Baathification of the Iraqi civil service and dissolution of the army after the US invasion in 2003. Marked by a death toll numbering in the hundreds of thousands, untold human rights abuses, the prisoner violations at Abu Ghraib and the rise of the Islamic State (ISIS), the example of Iraq is instructive because it helps us to understand what went right in Uganda, at least partially, during the NRM’s transition period. As Fawaz A. Gerges writes in his acclaimed account of the rise of ISIS, ‘By destroying state institutions and establishing a sectarian-based political system, the 2003 US-led invasion polarized the country along Sunni-Shia lines and set the stage for a fierce, prolonged struggle driven by identity politics’ (Gerges, 2016: 68). 114 Media, Conflict and the State in Africa

A leading factor in understanding the failure of the American-led state-building effort in Iraq is the disbanding of the army. This decision put tens of thousands of armed men out of work and created a disgruntled network of military leaders that were motivated to fight the United States and its allies. Those that were removed from the army, many of whom with distinguished military backgrounds, were primarily Sunni commanders. These individuals found their previous roles filled by Shi-ites, further creating tensions between ethnic groups. A similar exclusionary pattern occurred within Iraq’s civil service. Tens of thousands of the country’s elites and highly skilled persons were put out of office and banned from holding government positions on the basis that they were seen as allied with the Ba’ath party. The consequence of these decisions was that Iraq simply did not have the human capital to restock government institutions with trained personnel. The purge of the civil service has had a lasting impact on the effectiveness of government institutions and the rebuilding of the state. Considering Ethiopia’s or Iraq’s recent history forces a comparatively sympathetic consideration of the NRM’s approach to institutional reform that is rarely afforded by the critical gaze of human rights watchdogs. The first government the NRM established sought to promote stability and recognise historical legacies as it carefully balanced the concerns of political and ethnic groups. Of thirty-two positions available, this cabinet contained ten members from the Democratic Party, the leader of the Conservative Party, a former prime minister of Buganda, Moses Ali (formerly a minister in Idi Amin’s government) and members of the Uganda People’s Congress. The makeup of this cabinet was not just an attempt to signify change but was part of a conscious effort to turn opposition figures into allies, or at least include them as part of the system. With respect to the military, when the NRM came to power there were a number of different groups fighting the central government, including the Former Uganda National Army (FUNA), Federal Democratic Movement of Uganda (FEDEMU), Uganda National Liberation Army (UNLA) and the Uganda Freedom Movement (UFM). The NRM attempted to reconcile and integrate those that it defeated both militarily and politically (Wapakhabulo, 2000). As Museveni recounted,

we use principled reconciliation, not cover up. By the 24th of January 1986, for instance, we had 12 brigades of our resistance army, which we used to defeat the last faction of the neo-colonial dictatorships. However, by the end of 1986, we had added another 10 brigades, mainly, from the forces we had defeated. By effecting national reconciliation, we were able, within one year, to cope with Sudanese aggression on our own ... Reconciliation, however, must be principled not opportunistic. The wrongdoer must accept his mistake or the fundamental causes must be delved into and addressed. Otherwise, you are postponing problems. (Museveni, 2005) A New Vision for the Rebuilding of State Institutions 115

The NRM’s Ten Point Programme (subsequently supported with the Anti-Sectarian Law of 1988) explicitly stated the goal of eliminating sectarianism. Amnesty was offered to all combatants and members of the police. Even former rebel groups that had been fighting the NRA were included under the amnesty conditions (Tripp, 2010a: 48). This was a tactic to pacify the opposition and was a fundamental characteristic of Museveni’s government of national unity. Recalling the practices of decentralisation and deliberation that were rehearsed during the struggle through the Resistance Councils (RCs), the NRM brought these reforms into the heart of the civilian bureaucracy in an ambitious project of reforming state institutions. The ‘elite bargaining’ that the NRM pursued gave an unprecedented number of key posts in government to competing political parties and contending social groups. Museveni’s cabinet consisted of thirty-two persons until 1992 when the party embarked on civil service reform, reducing the number of ministries, and with it their permanent secretaries, from thirty-two to twenty-one. Despite earlier ideological misgivings about the International Monetary Fund and World Bank’s advocacy of structural adjustment, this was also wrapped up in the politics of the day and the NRM accepted many of the financial institution’s ambitious recommendations on scaling down the size of the state. This signalled high- level public commitment and also a willingness on the part of the NRM to seriously promote a more efficient and restructured government (Kjaer, 2004: 397). While somewhat bending to the pressure of the international lending agencies, at this time the NRM also believed that the problems with government institutions was more attributable to corrupt individuals or ineffective political supervision, rather than size or inherent inefficiency, as the donor and international financial institutions argued (Brett, 1994). The instinct of the NRM was to reform rather than dismantle the state apparatus. As such the NRM was careful not to exacerbate different political factions by dismissing civil servants who were serving under previous governments. The retention of civil servants contributed to the general feeling that Museveni was indeed bringing the peace and security he promised. Former Minister of Infor- mation Nsaba Buturo notes that in the Ministry of Information,

This government didn’t go about dismissing those they thought were unfriendly. Those that wanted to continue working could. If you are to get stability you don’t interfere ... Stability can only be when you carry-on with everyone so there have not really been arrests either. [Uganda] has a turbulent past so achieving stability only happens when you involve everyone. (Interview: Nsaba Buturo)

Speaking in a similar fashion, Eriya Kategaya, previously the First Deputy Prime Minister, recalled that in the immediate aftermath of the NRM coming to power there was a feeling that the NRM needed to reverse the trend of Uganda’s political history where ‘one group comes and sweeps everyone out’ but that the main concern 116 Media, Conflict and the State in Africa was to ‘let everyone settle down, not feel harassed’ because we wanted to ‘show that we are a new group with different thinking’ (Interview: Eriya Kategaya). The inclusive approach of these years was extended to, and had a significant impact on, how the NRM dealt with the media during the transition period. As the NRA troops descended on Kampala in 1986, the NRA seized control of the government radio, Radio Uganda, in a highly symbolic projection of power. The day after taking control of the capital, Museveni used the radio to appeal for calm and to outline his plans for stabilising and ruling the country to a populace largely cut off from each other as telephone lines and other key infrastructure were damaged by the wartime years. Reflecting the broader strategy adopted towards government institutions, Museveni decided not to disband Radio Uganda, a decision that was also made with respect to the government newspaper, The Ugandan Times.As Jack Turyamwijuka, Head of Radio Uganda during the transition from Obote to Museveni, remembered:

No one was ﬁred when the Movement came to power ... People were civil servants but now they are independently recruited. For our editorial policy, having the other independent radio stations makes little point in restricting government radio because if you don’t say it, others will. Radio Uganda now has a board of directors. Most are former civil servants but there are business people as well. ...No one was sacked during the transition. Civil servants were not affected by change of power. (Interview: Jack Turyamwijuka)

The same principles of inclusivity underpinned the NRM’s approach to the private media after seizing power. Despite harassment from the Okello government, a number of private newspapers were publishing when Museveni came to power, including the Weekly Topic. The three owners of the Weekly Topic, Bidandi Ssali, Kintu Musoke and Ali Kirunda Kivejinja, were all involved with a student movement that was associated with the NRM but they were known for being outspoken and critical towards it. The NRM worked hard to court them, and they were given prominent positions in the government: Ssali became Minister of Local Govern- ment, Musoke was appointed Prime Minister and Kirunda was Minister of Works, Transport and Communications. While the ﬁrst government that the NRM established has been widely credited for its efforts to balance political and ethnic groups, many observers have argued that the NRM succeeded in achieving this diversity and genuine representation only to have it decline over the years, or revert to the ‘partial reform syndrome’, which is what Nicolas van de Walle refers to when reform-oriented leaders continue to embrace the rhetoric but fall back on maintaining their networks of patronage and political elites to retain control (Van de Walle, 1999). There are also strong arguments that this elite inclusiveness has been overstated, and the NRM has always been biased towards Westerners and the Baganda, the former from Museveni’s region and the latter who were rewarded for their support against Obote (Lindemann, 2011). A New Vision for the Rebuilding of State Institutions 117

While it is clear that Northerners have been marginalized, and this is a widely- cited factor that has been driving the war in Northern Uganda for decades, initial efforts at institutional reform and state-building were, however, unprecedented in their inclusivity.

the new vision: a new newspaper for a new country

If part of the NRM’s strategy to promote social cohesion was to allow old institutions to continue, new ones were also created. Launched in 1986, The New Vision was the most important media initiative started by the NRM and it institutionally embodied the dual imperative of promoting both change and stability. In establishing The New Vision, the NRM made sure that they hired some of the journalists from The Uganda Times. But incorporating these journalists was not always straightforward because, as James Tumusiime, a senior reporter at The Daily Monitor and subsequent managing director of The Observer pointed out:

Most of the journalists were used to propaganda and advancing a particular cause. They couldn’t imagine they could write openly ...The nucleus team going to run the paper was far from cohesive. A climate of suspicion hung over the paper as old political beliefs simmered below the surface. Many of the recruits who came from outside thought that those they found there were moles of the old regime. This kept the latter on the defensive. (Interview: James Tumusiime) While the newsroom was often a tense place, this policy of inclusion provided a valuable opportunity to promote harmony in Uganda’s media. Journalists who held different perspectives on the recent changes in Uganda were forced to establish certain basic shared historical and contemporary interpretations of events to report on the new directions Uganda was taking. William Pike, the British journalist employed to steer The New Vision, described one of his early initiatives when he ﬁrst arrived:

The journalists in The New Vision were essentially, at that stage, the journalists from the old government newspaper. They completely denied that people had been killed in Luwero so one of the ﬁrst things I did after a couple of months was hire some buses and go out to Luwero and start kicking bones around in banana plantations. And then they were very shocked but there was a complete mismatch [on issues]. I think there are some issues now, you could see this argument about Kony now, and should Kony get amnesty? Most Northerners ...are accepting that Kony committed atrocities. I mean it’s not disputed ...The government also committed atrocities but actually the key facts are mostly agreed on. The motives of the government might be disputed, but key facts are accepted whereas in ’86 even key facts weren’t accepted. So I think the media as a whole, not just The New Vision, by providing comprehensive information has really helped to build that kind of consensus. (Interview: William Pike) 118 Media, Conﬂict and the State in Africa

Gradually, a new team was built, journalists were trained and The New Vision was able to carve out its own direction. The success of The New Vision and its role in a conciliatory nation-building process contrasts with the media’s development in Ethiopia. Here, former Ministry of Information officials under the Derg were forced to resign by the EPRDF, creating a pool of disgruntled people who channelled their bitterness and opposition to the government into private papers. But in Uganda, by deciding to keep former Amin and Obote-era journalists as part of the system, the number of old journalists seeking employment in opposition spaces was much reduced and meant those remaining in their jobs were less likely to be deeply opposed to Museveni’s changes, as they had vested interests in the new system. Beyond staffing considerations, The New Vision further captured the NRM’s inclusivity agenda through its editorial practices. Established by a legal statute that specifically stated that the paper should publish criticism of the government without being an institutional opponent of it, The New Vision was unprecedented for a government-sponsored paper on the continent, in that it was both readable and independent. The paper, which emerged from a cabinet meeting in the early days of the NRM, was imagined as a cornerstone in the NRM’s project to bring fundamental change not just to Uganda, but also to the African continent. As Pike noted, ‘it was part of the whole concept of fundamental change, that you could have an [independent] media, including a government newspaper, because after all, the BBC’s independent, so why shouldn’t an African newspaper be independent?’ (Interview: William Pike). That the NRM set out to achieve a newsroom staffed by an eclectic mix of people, rather than simply ideologues and loyalists, and that it granted the paper a large degree of freedom was a product of formative wartime experiences. As outlined in the previous chapter, the paper was built within the ideology and vision of the type of debate that the NRM believed could contribute to a ‘no-party’ democracy. It was, as Pike continued, an extension of the NRM’s practices during the struggle where:

the soldiers were allowed to criticise the ofﬁcers, as long as it’s done openly in good faith ...And the rule was that you would never get in trouble as a soldier for practicing the principle of constructive criticism. So really the newspaper was an extension of that ... They came out, they were a guerrilla army but as a guerrilla army they’d supported free speech, constructive criticism and that kind of thing so they wanted that to continue in the newspaper. (Interview: William Pike)

This approach to positive or constructive criticism was reiterated widely in government circles. An early edition of The New Vision quoted Minister of Information and Broadcasting, Abu Mayanja, as saying:

The newspaper should not censor any honest opinion but that instead it should encourage debate on matters like security, economy, politicisation and other issues A New Vision for the Rebuilding of State Institutions 119

which affect all Ugandans ...Ugandans who have strong cases to argue ...use the newspaper for that purpose... no single individual or group has all the answers to our problems ...let us encourage positive criticism because we as a government are not enemies of the people. (The New Vision, 1986b; 1, 8)

Grand in design and justification, the material beginnings of The New Vision were, however, humble. The offices were made up of a few desks with some old computers and one telephone line and there was no money to pursue stories. Indicative of the working conditions in these early days, only one copy of the first The New Vision is known to exist, which is held in the Corporation’s library. This contains a fascinating section of text. The first editorial, entitled ‘We Will Contribute to This Change’, set the agenda of the paper, declaring that:

“New Vision” has been chosen as the name of the paper at this point in time because our motherland has undergone a fundamental change following over two decades of brutal regimes, economic stagnation and social and political upheav- als as well as corruption, inefﬁciency and neglect in the highest reaches of administration ... At this time when we enter the threshold of renewed hope, “The New Vision” will count on the good will of all Ugandans in its contribution towards national unity, reconciliation and patriotism. Since the main problems which beset us in the past were man-made, it should not take us too long to solve them if we adhere to the NRM political programme. Indeed this may well be the last chance in a lifetime for every mature Ugandan to contribute to our nation’s stability, development and prosperity. (The New Vision, 1986a; 4)

The editorial continued by turning to a discussion of human rights and freedoms, arguing that while it is important for an ‘individual to exercise his human rights in a free and peaceful atmosphere’ it must be done ‘without losing sight of his obligations to ensure that freedom is not lost again’ (The New Vision, 1986). Confident in explaining the limits of liberal principles for aiding Uganda’s present situation, the first issue of The New Vision also explained other NRM decisions to the public, including the ban on political party activities such as the issuance of press and public statements, the wearing of party political colours and displaying party flags and other symbols. Here it was argued that these actions were necessary to create a grace period in which the government could develop a government of national unity. By defending controversial NRM policies such as these, early issues of The New Vision came close to acting as a propaganda mouthpiece for the government but it remained able to present itself as a fresh start. As a self-accounting and profit-oriented company, The New Vision acted as a local, independent and self- sustaining initiative. Since launching, The New Vision has demonstrated an ability and freedom to criticise the government. However, this has occurred only within certain bounds, 120 Media, Conflict and the State in Africa and the degree to which The New Vision is independent from government influences remains debatable and is contested by many, including journalists that work there. The paper is often accused of being a government mouthpiece, not least by the political opposition and other business competitors such as The Monitor. David Mukholi, former managing editor of The Sunday Vision, for example, argues that describing The New Vision as enjoying ‘total independence would be far-fetched’ (Interview: David Mukholi). Indeed, most people speak openly about the paper’s limits and of where journalists are fearful to tread, including subjects such as Museveni’s personal life (especially stories relating to his wife) and military activities, particularly relating to the war in the north of the country and the Ugandan military’s involvement in the Democratic Republic of Congo.

business, competition and professionalism: theroleofthenewvisionindeveloping the local media industry

The New Vision has had a significant impact on the development of the media industry in Uganda, playing an important part in the sector’s institutionalisation and professionalisation. In part, this has been achieved by enabling other media outlets to be more independent from the government than they otherwise might have been. Soon after The New Vision was founded, The Monitor newspaper was launched in 1992 by a liberal group of journalists, several of whom had just left the Weekly Topic out of frustration with the extent to which that paper had begun to align itself with the NRM. The situation at the Weekly Topic arose following government efforts to co-opt both current and potential critics by giving Weekly Topic journalists prominent government positions, a decision that blunted the paper’s ability to criticise the NRM. Ironically, this meant The New Vision had more freedom to cover news than the Weekly Topic. Although likely to be a publication highly critical of the government, the launch of The Monitor became a strategic opportunity for The New Vision. The New Vision actually supported The Monitor’s first print runs, providing them with advice and financial credit. It may seem counter-intuitive that the leading paper would assist what was likely to become its most significant competitor. However, founding Monitor journalist Charles Onyango-Obbo explained the strategy behind this move:

[William Pike] wanted a strong independent political newspaper because that determined his face. So long as there was a newspaper that was more critical of the government than The New Vision then he could write without pressure, but as soon as there was no other newspaper then he would become [pressured]. He needed ... a newspaper that was critical of the government in order that he could place himself in the centre position. (Interview: Charles Onyango-Obbo) A New Vision for the Rebuilding of State Institutions 121

The presence of popular media outlets with a more critical position allowed The New Vision to cover certain issues and debates raised by competitors that the paper might not otherwise be able to address due to government interests. Con- versely, this healthy competition allowed private publications such as The Monitor to carve a space for themselves by positioning against The New Vision. While The New Vision tried to cater to a broader portion of Ugandan society, in the early period of publication, The Monitor was able to frame itself as an independent voice and attracted politically inclined readers. Of course, this did not mean that The Monitor and The New Vision did not share coverage and, given the widespread support for the NRM in the country, The Monitor’s critical coverage has been tempered by the demands of appealing to a large readership. This centripetal market force has led to both papers fighting over similar audiences and has helped prevent a politically polarised media, as has occurred in Ethiopia. The development of financially self- supporting press outlets at an early stage has been important in cultivating a sense of industry standards and inculcating institutional norms. That so many outlets have had their existence so strongly marked by financial considerations makes the industry relatively unique on the continent, where it is typical for media to be the political projects of a single wealthy individual or small group. The New Vision has been a significant source of income for the government. For years, 80 per cent of the stocks were owned by the government and the remaining 20 per cent by institutions and individuals. But private investment has recently grown to 47 per cent. The New Vision Group, the conglomerate which owns The New Vision, is one of the top listed companies on the Ugandan Securities Exchange, alongside companies such as British American Tobacco, East African Breweries and Kenya Airways. The New Vision Group has increased its profitability by diversifying its businesses, including a variety of popular radio stations broadcasting in local languages across the country such as Radio Bekedde in Kampala, Radio West FM in Mbara, Radio Rupiny in Gulu and Radio Etop in Soroti. Additional businesses include television stations, sports magazines, a directory for secondary schools and a printing press that prints the majority of newspapers in Uganda, Rwanda and Southern Sudan. This diversification represents an ambitious approach to institutional reform and is a significant difference from the state-controlled Uganda Broadcasting Corporation, for example. As Pike explained:

We are self-accounting and we made a small loss in our first year of operation, which was three or four months but since then we’ve been in profit. I was with the Prime Minister the other day and he was saying ‘what’s your salary?’, and he asked what is our editor’s salary and he was shocked because ... the Prime Minister’s salary would put him at about the level of a middle editor here ... So we’re self- accounting, so we don’t need money from the government, whereas Uganda Broadcasting was actually a department, part of the Ministry of Information, or part of the Office of the President, and as such, they got a subvention from the Treasury. A lot of the money was in fact embezzled, but they didn’t have proper accounting 122 Media, Conflict and the State in Africa

processes. There was no incentive to increase your revenue, increase your listener- ship, and increase your market penetration. It didn’t make any difference, you know, you still got the same subvention from the government. Actually therefore the government was your customer rather than the listener ... We have to put headlines on the front page that the public wants to buy. If we don’t produce the product that the public wants to buy we’ll collapse. We’ll go out of business, whereas Uganda Television or Radio Uganda, well if they get money from the state and the money they collect doesn’t go to them, it returns to the state, they have no incentive. (Interview: William Pike)

The New Vision Group’s approach also encouraged the private media to innovate and to place business objectives at the forefront of their models. Peter Mwesige, head of the School of Journalism at Makerere University, described how the partisan media that characterised the media sector in the early period of the NRM’s rule was ultimately not viable as it was unable to attract sustainable audiences. If:

The New Vision was run the way other government papers were run, The Monitor would not have had the pressure to professionalise. Journalists at The Monitor were more into making a political case and were pushing certain ideas and issues but now this has changed ... The New Vision drew other papers to professionalise ... [because] it wasn’t just a party hawk, it didn’t just push the party line but it was very important that the paper was okay economically. (Interview: Peter Mwesige)

As part of a larger institutionalisation of the media sector, The Monitor was signi- ﬁcantly transformed by the buy-in of the Aga Khan and its incorporation into The Nation Media Group. Hugely wealthy, the Aga Khan (the Imam of the Ismailis, followers within the Shia Muslim tradition) has been a major investor across eastern Africa and founded the Nation Media Group in Nairobi in 1959. The Group has grown into the largest private media house in the region with profound repercussions. Since the acquisition of The Monitor, for instance, the paper has moved to a more centrist position with a more corporate approach. As Wafula Oguttu, a co-founder of the opposition Forum for Democratic Change (FDC) and former leader of the opposition in parliament, notes, however, this process has not always been transparent: ‘In 2002 when the Nation came in they cared more about money. The Aga Khan has large interests in Uganda. He has a hotel and a dam. Museveni gives it [to him] as leverage over The Monitor’ (Interview: Wafula Oguttu). Indeed, many journalists working in the private media bemoan the monetisation of journalistic priorities. From their perspective the presence of large investors and advertisers with cross-cutting business interests in both media and other industries has increasingly been a threat to freedom of expression. Given investors’ reliance on the good favour of government to practice, this is a particularly threatening dynamic, and A New Vision for the Rebuilding of State Institutions 123 journalists further cite the lack of transparency and accountability in the media that emerges from these corridor dealings. The professionalisation of the media in Uganda has also seen The Monitor and The New Vision play important roles in the cultivation of talent, albeit in different ways. Soon after its launch, The New Vision established an in-house training programme, which became the most dynamic in the country. With motives that blended self-interest and idealism, the leading editors of The Monitor instead looked externally and started the journalism programme at Makerere University to address the lack of trained journalists within Uganda. The journalists were responsible for preparing the curriculum and course outline, and taught on the programme, enabling The Monitor to directly recruit the best graduates. The broadening of talent that these programmes have helped develop has moved the nascent media sector under the NRM beyond a reliance on individual personalities that so often characterises newly launched politically oriented media operations. This has been particularly true as a younger generation of graduates has come into employment without feeling attached to the politics of the 1980s. Having placed high requirements to enter the profession, journalists speak proudly and sincerely about the beneﬁts of professionalism and best practice. Taking their cue from the international stage, media houses speak frequently about adherence to professional bodies and codes of ethics, a sentiment that has grown to meet the relatively lax spaces online for political debate and blogging in recent years. Some have even argued that the industry’s commitment to professional standards can be understood in relation to the Movement System and its lessons in civic education and mass participation that have made it natural for some to feel compelled to join a professional body (Interview: Frederick Juuko). Some older journalists, however, have been less eager to celebrate these developments, viewing professionalism as instead signalling a lack of passion or commitment to the social causes the media leaders held during the early days of the NRM. Representing this viewpoint, Drake Ssekeba commented that a major problem has been that journalists do not know the questions to ask:

Most of the people today are young in age and they don’t have adequate training, they don’t have experience ... You see if I were to ask a question, I’d ask a real question ... because I would know what I am asking about. Before I come to ask you, I have my own answers. I have made research, however little it may be, but I’ve done research. But today people don’t know that, people who are in journalism today, a few of them know, but a lot of them don’t. That’s why they can’t raise the issues ... There are some people here who are called very good journalists, they are good journalists but actually when they come to argue, I hear them, you know on the radio, they are without, we call it ink, without documentary evidence. They just argue ... (Interview: Drake Ssekeba) 124 Media, Conﬂict and the State in Africa

While Ssekeba’s observations are common among senior journalists who, as the next chapter discuses, were deeply involved with politics and the NRM during the transition period, calls for a return to an explicitly politicised media are heard less and less often. The shifting composition of the journalism sector with generational change has promoted a move within the sector away from dominating with political opinion. In the case of The Monitor, for example, as the paper has become more commercially oriented it has largely shed the oppositional politics that inﬂuenced its founding. Previously known as The Independent Voice, there was a decision made to instead market itself through the slogan, ‘Truth Everyday’, which suggests a more 1 accountable, middle ground paper. There have also been major efforts to develop a greater focus on business and lifestyle topics to help cater to a more well-healed and aspirational customer base. As the former editor Joachim Buwembo argues, ‘the growth in politics can only take you so far ...we can only devote so many pages to why Museveni is wrong’ (Interview: Joachim Buwembo). Despite the growing cohort of trained journalists and the professionalisation of the media, Uganda has not been immune to adopting other less palatable features of the modern global mediascape. At the same time as there has been a reduction in partisanship and overtly politicised reporting in the press, there has also been a rise of tabloid and sensational reporting across all forms of media: print, radio and online. The Red Pepper newspaper and website, along with publications such as Rolling Stone, Hello! and Daily Onion (none of which have any afﬁliation or relation to their US or UK counterparts with the same names) are all indicative of this trend. Often started by young journalism graduates eager to make a name for themselves, these outlets are frequently involved with highly divisive and dangerous reporting about sexuality and morality for which Uganda has sadly become internationally known. The founder of the Red Pepper described his approach in these terms: ‘we found a problem with youth and immorality among school children. They were having group sex on the beach so we extended the campaign to bars and adults. We became the moral police, the feared ones’ (Interview: Richard Tusiime). Stentorian moral pronouncements such as these, however, belie that paper’s true intent. Red Pepper journalists readily admit that what they have been after is ‘political sleaze’. Such reporting has had far-reaching consequences. Rolling Stone and Red Pepper have, for example, regularly published articles identifying (often with accompanying photos) lesbian, gay, bisexual and transsexual (LGBT) citizens, with calls to ‘hang them’. Threats such as these carry grave and real consequences given the violence in the country directed at these communities. Homosexuality is illegal in Uganda and is a highly contentious issue, as gay leaders have been killed,

1 In addition, a highly successful radio station was launched in September 2004 that was a revamped version of the previous station, Monitor FM. The new brand promises ‘Better Information, Best Music’ and has since become among the most popular FM stations in the country, an improvement from Monitor FM, which was previously thirteenth. A New Vision for the Rebuilding of State Institutions 125 imprisoned and subjected to mob violence. Publicly revealing the identities of these individuals has put them in direct danger. While this type of tabloid reporting has been subjected to police clampdowns, often leading to the suspension of the publication, websites and online material remain active and uncensored.

conclusion: institutions under threat

Many of the ambitious civil society and institutional reforms that Museveni put into place soon after coming to power have slowly been reversed or unravelled. For example, having embarked upon a large-scale restructuring of the state ministries, the number of ministers, including state ministers, has since grown from a low of twenty-one to seventy-seven in 2016 (Kakaire, 2016), Many of these appointments reﬂect the need for Museveni to maintain political loyalty. Cases of political corruption among those with family ties (including Museveni’s half-brother, Salim Saleh) have continued to grow into what has become a constant stream of allegations and cases that have been brought to court (Burnett, 2013; Kjaer, 2004). As Museveni has sought to remain in power, interference across all institutions has been increasing. The evolution of The New Vision reﬂects this trajectory away from many of the ideals and principles upon which the Movement System was built. While The New Vision remains comparatively strong (particularly in reference to many other newspapers on the continent), and continues to be the top-selling newspaper in the country, it has been under continued political pressure. William Pike was forced to resign in 2006 and was subsequently replaced by Els De Temmerman, a Belgian journalist and activist who soon resigned herself in 2008, citing editorial interference and a lack of independence. De Temmerman worked under Robert Kabushenga, who was appointed CEO of the New Vision Group in 2007, a position he continues to hold. Putting an end to the ambition to create a government-funded yet independent media outlet, these pressures on The New Vision are part of a clear government ambition to turn the newspaper into a more traditional government communications outlet. For example, prior to assuming the position of CEO, Kabushenga was head of the Uganda Media Centre, an institution that was established in the mid-2000s and tasked with the goal of improving the image of the NRM government both domestically and abroad. By placing him in the leadership of the New Vision Group, the NRM issued a clear signal that the paper should increasingly be aligned with the NRM on political and policy issues. 8

Media and Opposition in Single Party Politics

In recent years, Uganda’s telecommunication providers, including the South African-based Mobile Telecommunications Network (MTN) and the Indian-based Bharti Airtel, have been issued with directives to block social media platforms during major political events. There was a blockade on all social media during the February 2016 general election and a subsequent shutdown in May during president Muse- veni’s inauguration. Facebook, Twitter and WhatsApp were the main targets and were made inaccessible to all Ugandans, apart from those that had downloaded Virtual Private Network applications. The Ugandan Communications Commission (UCC) justified these shutdowns on the basis of the need to preserve ‘security’, ‘public order’ and ‘safety’ (Musisi, 2016). During the elections, Museveni explained the clampdown on social media by arguing, ‘some people misuse those pathways. You know how they use them – telling lies. If you want a right, use it properly’ (Yoweri Museveni, quoted in, BBC, 2016). These repressive measures were extended to traditional media outlets and continued to be implemented even after the inauguration, following a directive that banned live coverage of the ‘defiance campaign’, protests coordinated by the opposition party, the Forum for Democratic Change (FDC). Formed in 2004, the FDC was using weekly public prayer rallies and demonstrations to express concerns about the election process and to publicly demand an independent audit of the results. As a result of the directive, any media houses broadcasting the FDC campaign in real-time were threatened by the UCC with the loss of their broadcast licenses (Wesonga & Bwire, 2016). The clampdown on social media in Uganda has occurred at a time when governments around the world are reckoning with the threats (real or imagined) that the Internet poses to democracy and stability, whether that be from fake news, facilitating terrorists attacks or allowing foreign actors to subvert the democratic process. The government’s justification for the shutdown during the inauguration was couched in these terms. Godfrey Mutabazi, the executive director of the telecommunications regulator, described the ban as ‘a measure to limit the possibility

126 Media and Opposition in Single Party Politics 127 of terrorists’ taking advantage’ of the presence of foreign leaders in the country (Godfrey Mutabazi, quoted in, Reuters, 2016). However, while reflecting global trends, this approach towards the media is rooted in particular Ugandan realities. Following a government trajectory towards repression and control outlined in the previous two chapters, the NRM’s turn to controlling social media should be unsurprising and is further evidence of Museveni’s more calculating and cynical approach to retaining power. While the NRM has long been accused of failing to respect the independence of the media, specific allegations have tended to be centred upon quite narrowly circumscribed cases such as the antagonisms between the NRM and an individual journalist. Recent moves, though, are more encompass- ing, and signal increasingly autocratic tendencies to systemically control the media. When faced with the introduction of new technologies that threaten an existing order the NRM already felt challenged to maintain a hold of, the result has been a clear conservative bent. For much of the 1990s, government policy towards the media was directed towards a readily identifiable, discrete and concrete entity, as the media was essentially limited to a few print publications. Since then, with the adoption of new technologies, media outlets have proliferated, with recent surveys suggesting that there are nearly 300 government and private FM radio stations (Lunghabo, 2015: 15), many of which are broadcasting in local languages and specifically target rural communities. Alongside social media, radio has become a crucial medium through which Ugandans engage with politics, launching the careers and aiding the ambition of a host of local politicians and businessmen eager to further their interests. However, despite the decentralisation of the media promoted through radio and the Internet, much of the news and political agenda remains tied to the major media houses and newspapers such as The New Vision and The Monitor. Not only do both of these publications have substantial holdings of radio, television and online news platforms but their network of journalists and reputation have ensured that they remain the leading news platforms in the country. It is, for example, common for community radio stations to read the news directly from the pages of The New Vision and The Monitor newspapers, thus extending their reach and ability to set the political agenda beyond the literate and their typical print media distribution networks. But can the centre hold? The proliferation of outlets and platforms through which Ugandans can engage with politics has made it particularly difficult to determine what is NRM policy or what is an action taken by a local NRM representative to pursue his or her own ends. For example, during the recent 2016 elections, many of the controversies with radio stations suspending their employees for hosting opposition figures, or shutting off the transmitters mid-interview, involved stations that were owned by local politicians (Soo-Ryun & Burnett, 2016). As this chapter argues, the NRM has a long record of adopting tactics and strategies to consolidate power but the approach towards the media which proved successful in reducing internal opposition has increasingly become worn over time. The 128 Media, Conflict and the State in Africa failure to create new strategies for the new technologies explains why the current blunter approach appears to characterise the NRM’s governance of the media. While the NRM’s characteristic legal manoeuvrings, attempted co-option of critics and efforts at persuasion all seem to persist, what has declined is the ‘vision’ that The New Vision and NRM so boldly emphasised during the struggle and early days of government. This has coincided with an agenda increasingly emphasising the securitisation of development. Uganda has been an active participant in the so-called global war on terror, lending support to US efforts in the region and providing troops to the African Union mission in Somalia. Museveni has also overseen engagement in neighbouring conflicts such as South Sudan and Rwanda and continued pursuit of war in Northern Uganda. By examining how the NRM strategically engaged with the private media when it first came to power – including the efforts to structure part of the media as ‘opposition’ in the context of a single party democracy – this chapter explores how a novel and innovative approach to the media turned anachronistic and diluted in the 2000s as the NRM allowed the demands of maintaining power to take over.

the monitor and opposition in a single party democracy

Launched in 1992, The Monitor emerged out of the Weekly Topic, a publication that had been in existence in some form since 1979. After coming to power in 1986 the NRM worked hard to court the owners of the Weekly Topic, an approach that was in line with their inclusionary agenda and the approach of The New Vision detailed in the previous chapter. By offering three of the Weekly Topic’s staff prominent places in the national government, the NRM sought to neutralise the newspaper as a potential source of opposition coverage. As Charles Onyango-Obbo, a former journalist at the Weekly Topic and founder of The Monitor described:

So the irony at that point was that The New Vision had more freedom to cover the news than the Weekly Topic, which was an independent paper. If The New Vision ran a story their motives were not in question but if the Weekly Topic ran a critical story the President would ask these guys in the cabinet how can you run a critical story about the government which you are a part of. (Interview: Charles Onyango-Obbo) Feeling caught by the NRM’s net, the leading journalists from the Weekly Topic left to start The Monitor, including Wafula Oguttu, Charles Onyango-Obbo, Richard Olal Teberer and Kevni Ogen Aliro. These journalists, along with Teddy Sseezi- 1 Cheeye (who later set up Uganda Conﬁdential), became the owners and sole

1 Teddy Sseezi-Cheeye, who was part of the NRM during the wartime years, served as founder and editor of Uganda Confidential. Uganda Confidential led with articles on corruption and murder in the Museveni family. For example, one issue led with a story, ‘State House: Implicated in the murder of Kagondoki?’, which strongly implied that Museveni’s wife, Janet, Media and Opposition in Single Party Politics 129 shareholders. This was a relatively novel idea of ownership in Uganda and rumours circulated as to who the ‘real’ owner could be when the paper first started up. Milton 2 Obote’s party, the Uganda People’s Congress (UPC), tried to argue that the Internal Security Organisation owned The Monitor; others claimed it was part of the NRM Secretariat, while there were still other rumours that it was close to the UPC. The founding journalists attempted to clear this fog by claiming they went out of their way to maintain editorial independence by not accepting financial contributions unless they were in the form of purchased advertising space. The founders of The Monitor had high ambitions for the publication. In the first paper, published on 31 July 1992, Oguttu summarised and introduced the mission statement of the new paper:

The guiding virtues in our work shall be democratic practice, observance of human rights, unity of Ugandans in diversity, a clean environment, social welfare of all groups of people in Uganda, protection of the rights of minorities and the under- privileged like women, children, the disabled etc. and the promotion of all activities that contribute to the process of national development. We shall all the time stick to getting truth from the facts and we shall play the game fairly according to the rules and ethics of responsible journalism. We shall steer The Monitor free from any business and political manipulations aimed at serving narrow or selfish interests. We shall be independent of government and of all social, political, religious or economic groups or any individual. While The Monitor may hold its own position on any issue, it will allow all schools of thought and views to contend in debates as part of a national growth towards tolerance, respect for other people’s opinions and greater democracy. We believe there must be room for every body to co-exist peacefully with others, irrespective of one’s faith or ideological beliefs. (Oguttu, 1992) Notwithstanding this lofty rhetoric and the proclamations that the newspaper was both financially and editorially independent, the place of The Monitor was ambiguous in most Ugandans’ minds. Steering an independent path between the dominant NRM and other political parties was difficult in practice and, as noted in the previous chapter, The Monitor did receive start-up support from The New Vision. For some, The Monitor came to be seen as the ‘only opposition’ newspaper in a one- party state. Others saw this label as misleading, stressing that The Monitor never really opposed the NRM but was rather constructed or framed by the NRM to be in opposition as a way of advancing their own political agenda in a one-party state.

was responsible for murdering a Makerere University student (Editorial, ‘State House: Impli- cated in the murder of Kagondoki?’, 30 August 1993, Uganda Conﬁdential,p.1). 2 Having been deposed in 1985 shortly before the NRM seized control of the country, Obote went into exile, living in Kenya and Zambia before dying in South Africa in 2005. 130 Media, Conﬂict and the State in Africa

Part of the perception of The Monitor as being an opposition publication stemmed from accusations that the paper was ‘an “O” affair’. With names beginning with ‘O’ typically associated with the Nilotic peoples, this brought ethnic politics to the forefront of discussions. For many, the founding journalists’ names seemed to testify to the fact that editorial independence merely hid shadowy ethnic advance- ment. These accusations recurred so often that in 1993 Oguttu felt the need to address them in an interview in his paper. Calling to attention the prominent roles that both William Pike and Kassam Mumtaz played in helping establish the newspaper by respectively extending credit and providing premises, Oguttu said:

Some of us don’t even think about ‘Os’. These are very brilliant people. A ﬁne crop of journalists...Even when I was recruiting them in the Topic, I never considered the “O” ...If you take me, for example, I have very few “O” friends, even from my nationality. My great political friends are not even Samia. So these things are said but there is nothing you can do about them. (Oguttu, 1993: 8)

Indeed, although the group of founding journalists did not include anyone from the west of the country (where Museveni is originally from), as time has gone on the allegation has carried even less force as the paper was bought by the Aga Khan and most of the original journalists have left to pursue other avenues. Oguttu, for example, retired from The Monitor in 2004 to be one of the founders of the opposition party, the FDC. Oguttu serves as a useful example in another regard, as he was one of a small number who had a long history of political engagement. For their part, the founding journalists at The Monitor mostly rejected political afﬁliations and claimed that they did not set out to become an opposition paper. Individuals such as Onygano- Obbo were motivated to have a career in the media and saw themselves as neutral observers. Ogutto, however, sought to offer transparency about his political position. In the ﬁrst years of the NRM’s government, Oguttu was open about his support of the NRM, including the fact that he was offered several jobs in the administration. While this view has clearly changed given his role as leader of the opposition, in the early period of the NRM he was also open about his dislike of the opposition parties, commenting in a 1993 article:

I as an individual, I deﬁnitely support multi-party politics. But I don’t like DP and UPC. That one I have never hidden. I have a problem with DP and UPC because they have refused to tolerate each other and co-exist peacefully ... I say why don’t we give NRM another ﬁve years so that at the end of that, we shall say time has come. (Oguttu, 1993: 8)

While many of The Monitor editors expressed admiration for the NRM’s nation- building project in the early 1990s, noting, for example that the ‘NRM is a great Media and Opposition in Single Party Politics 131 improvement over all the regimes Uganda has had in the last 25 or so years’ (Oguttu, 1993), the perception of the paper as being oppositional was also rooted in accusations that The Monitor actively supported opposition parties, even before the formation of the FDC. When accusations were running high in 1993, the paper responded directly to the arguments, acknowledging that reporting may not have always been balanced or that the activities of the political parties were not always covered ‘as fairly as we could have’ (The Monitor, 1993a: 3). At other times though, it was in the interests of The Monitor to be seen as oppositional. Anti-establishment coverage often significantly overlapped with critical journalism and by pursuing stories on issues such as the war in Northern Uganda, The Monitor burnished its credentials in the eyes of many. As for the NRM, it was in the government’s interest to be able to claim through the example of The Monitor that there was an independent and vocal press in Uganda, bolstering its argument that it was delivering change and democracy to a unique ‘no-party system’. Critiques from the media were subsequently tolerated and even tacitly endorsed by the government, as dissent and criticism was seen as a central part of the Movement System. In this manner, the government not only came to rely on the perception of The Monitor as oppositional but even encouraged it (a trend that continued through the 2016 elections). The freedom to debate political issues was evidence that the NRM used again and again to argue the Move- ment System differed from other single-party systems. Journalists at The Monitor were not ignorant of this fact. Onygano-Obbo argued: In Uganda, I think because of the one party thing, it [the government] had this predicament. Museveni needed an alibi to show that there is this unique thing called the Movement System and it has all the attributes of a leader of a political system, except that you cannot run on a party platform, but you can run on leader merit. So they had to allow the press to try it. What they didn’t foresee is that because the political state was fairly restrictive, that the independent media ...any newspaper or radio, which had the courage, would eventually ...come to capture the emotion of a lot of people as a platform by people who are trying to force the system. The Museveni government then came to rely [on The Monitor] ... They used the existence of it- they would say, look at the paper like The Monitor. There are very few markers of a democracy and they would point to Tanzania and Kenya, which have newspapers which are critical, so then they say look you cannot therefore deny the fact that we have something special and unique happening here. So in many ways we also became a pawn of the regime. (Interview: Charles Onyango-Obbo) The NRM also viewed The Monitor as important in reducing the likelihood of armed insurgencies. Finding lessons in Uganda’s recent history, the NRM believed previous governments had exacerbated conflict by being indifferent to expressions of discontent. With space to debate issues in the media, the NRM argued that fewer people would find recourse to violence. By mocking the crudest depictions of the 132 Media, Conflict and the State in Africa

NRM as presiding over a nefarious dictatorship, the NRM hoped that promoting free expression in the press not only reduced the incentive to turn to violence but also at least disarmed the arguments of those advocating violence. The credibility of the NRM’s arguments in this regard were enhanced by the willingness of the government, and particularly the executive, to both recognise some criticism to be valid (within bounds) but to also directly engage and respond to it. Further confusing the picture of where The Monitor stood in relation to the NRM was an argument that the newspaper was neither oppositional with regard to the intent of its editors nor a product of the NRM’s artiﬁce to create a false but beguiling oppositional outlet. Rather some, including journalists from The Monitor itself, argued that since the beginning of its existence the publication had been aligned with the NRM. An article in The Monitor illustrates the complexities of this debate and the divided interpretations Ugandans held of the Monitor:

The Monitor is a creature of NRM politics, and it is an essential strategy in the overall scheme of Museveni clinging to power and sanitising the fact that he is a militarist who grabbed State House by force of arms. This is important, because the Monitor never questioned the legitimacy of how Museveni came to power, to them his ﬁve-year guerrilla war was a revolution which was made through the ‘sacriﬁce’ of peasants’ blood. (Ogolla, 1996: 3)

The article further expounded on the relationship between Museveni and the editor Wafula Oguttu:

They might clash on the ﬁeld during the match, and have acrimonious rivalries off the ﬁeld, but at the end of the day they are both interested in the survival of the football league. That’s why the one-party Movement allows the Monitor, which always pretends to play in the centre, which actually means eating from both the Movement and the Multi-partyists, to exist. (Ogolla, 1996: 3)

There was certainly substance to the charge that fundamental premises of the NRM state and its nation-building agenda were never questioned by The Monitor. For example, the fact that the NRM initially seized power through violence rather than democratic means was never a central criticism (Mwenda, 1996: 4). Not surprisingly, some in The Monitor have responded vehemently to this accusation, insisting that just because ‘bringing down the NRM government has never been its grand agenda’ it does not follow that it is pro-NRM (Muwanga-Bayego, 1996: 3). For many Ugandans, however, the measured tones of The Monitor in relation to the NRM’s state- and nation-building project was seen as responsible and met what Ugandans largely saw the role of the media should be in contributing to peace and security. This reaction was ﬁtting for a country that, in contrast to Ethiopia in the 1990s, appeared to have little appetite for staunchly anti-government publications. Media and Opposition in Single Party Politics 133

When the NRM came to power, examples of this type of publication included the Democratic Party’s Munnansi and The Citizen, and the Uganda People’s Con- gress’s The People. But these papers offered few credible alternatives to NRM policy, were frequently inaccurate in their reportage and failed to appropriately gauge the mood of a country demanding change. They would, for example, refer to the NRM crudely as a dictatorship and, with scant evidence to back up their claims, speak of how Museveni and the NRM were involved in various crimes. A few of these papers managed some regional success in places such as Gulu (an opposition stronghold in Northern Uganda) but were generally unpopular, especially in major commercial areas. All this spoke to the fact that the Overton window (the range of political discourse considered societally acceptable) fell closer to the arguments contained within New Vision and the government’s concern with promoting peace and security than the arguments put forth by the DP and UPC. The relatively narrow parameters of what could be said in relation to government policy are explained by Onyango-Obbo, who stated:

Museveni’s war resonated a lot ... it was not going to be just a change of government but ... it was going to be a remake of the whole character of Uganda as it had been from the time of 1900 or the First World War. So to the extent that intellectual space in Uganda had for a long time been dominated by the South and Western elites, when Museveni came to power there was no dissent from the very beginning ... The strength of Museveni was massive. (Interview: Charles Onyango-Obbo)

Onyango-Obbo’s words speak to an unavoidable truth in the process of reconciliation and politics that personalities matter. Museveni’s mix of paternalism and populism in his public persona as both a teacher and a man of the people proved powerful and successful in the initial years of the NRM government. Particularly in his earlier years, Museveni regularly held court with different audiences, often inviting journalists to his ranch in Rwakitura, where he claims to know all the names of his hundreds of cows. Many journalists that have also been Museveni’s critics (and in some cases subjected to arrest and imprisonment) have enjoyed ties with State House, often built from the days of the struggle or through family and friendship connections. Muse- veni has been willing to engage with these journalists informally, and it is common- place for the president to enter a dialogue with journalists and to respond to their articles through writing editorials himself or going on radio. An example of how these dynamics work is the case of Andrew Mwenda, who has been one of the most outspoken critics remaining in journalism in the country, comes from Museveni’s region and has strong ties with the family. He too, however, has been repeatedly arrested (and brieﬂy held) for some of his writings. In his jail diaries, Mwenda states:

My relationship with the Museveni family and government has always been a confusing one. I am always critical of the president and his government. Yet Museveni 134 Media, Conﬂict and the State in Africa

personally has always given me audience to talk to him – on the phone or going to see him at state house. Even in our meetings, which are always of an intellectual nature, we disagree a lot but sometimes ﬁnd areas of agreement. Museveni’s young brother Salim Saleh is a close friend. Indeed, my love for Saleh is my worst disease as a journalist. I always pray that something doesn’t happen to him, yet Saleh has an incredible propensity to stir up trouble for himself. Possibly it is because we share this common trait that we are close friends. (Mwenda, 2008) Mwenda has also written of his reluctance to draw on these contacts to ease his release from prison but rather allowing the system to take its course. Personal relationships are often complicated to decipher but they matter greatly in looking at the way in which the government has intervened in the media system. Museveni has been skilful at co-opting critics onto his side but even some journalists who write from outside the tent (and particularly those from an older generation) often share personal relationships with Museveni that mute their more trenchant criticisms.

the nrm, the media and lawfare

The legal space has been an important theatre for advancing the NRM’s interests. But if it is tempting to think that statute books and court rulings are easier to read and separate from personal relationships, the NRM’s manoeuvrings within this space often appear to operate according to its own logic with a set of political rules known only to insiders. This opacity has largely been because the government has ‘been less concerned with enacting the law than with using the legislative process to make symbolic gestures that antagonize or placate various opposition groups at critical moments’ (Goodfellow, 2014: 754). Embedded in informal politics, the relationship between law and speech in Uganda is anything but straightforward and further exhibits Museveni’s adroit dealings with the media. Since the NRM came to power, dozens of journalists have been arrested and charged with crimes ranging from libel to sedition, often under the penal code 3 and criminal code. During the build-up to the 2011 election, forty criminal charges were brought against journalists and talk show hosts for stating or repeating criticism about the NRM (Human Rights Watch, 2010b: 3). The government has used its powers to take radio stations off the air, ban newspapers from printing and close access to speciﬁc social media websites. But despite the tactics used, many of the leading journalists in Uganda still argue that the government scores well on media freedom. As one journalist from a private media outlet wrote in 1994, ‘It sounds perversely ironic for someone like me who is often critical of government to say this. The NRM government is corrupt and has distasteful discriminatory practices

3 These cases are well documented on websites such as Reporters without Borders www.rsf.org, Human Rights Watch, www.hrw.org and Committee to Protect Journalists, www.cpj.org. Media and Opposition in Single Party Politics 135 towards Ugandans from some parts of the country, but on the press they score 7 out of 10.’ (Kalenzi, 1994: 1). The editor of The Monitor, Oguttu argued, ‘We feel for example that there is sufﬁcient freedom of press for us to make all the legitimate comments we have wanted to make’ (The Monitor, Editorial, 1993a: 3). While these comments were made earlier on in the NRM’s tenure, and the situation has arguably deteriorated, such sympathetic appraisals can still be heard. One of Oguttu’s fellow co-founders of The Monitor Onyango-Obbo speaks of ‘keeping things in perspective’:

Whatever one says, there is a fundamental difference between the NRM government’s attitudes toward the press and that of other governments. It is true they get angry and punish newspapers like they did with the advertising ban and have arrested journalists. Journalism is not a bed of roses, you have to get these pricks, but the NRM government’s ﬁrst instinct is not to close down [media]. (Interview: Charles Onyango-Obbo)

But Onyango-Obbo did not just use a pugnacious metaphor to defend an antagonistic, although relatively stable, status quo but also to advocate for change. Describ- ing a news story The Monitor ran on a government helicopter that crashed in the north of the country and that left open questions about the strength of the rebels, Onyango-Obbo describes how he initially ‘misunderstood the extent of the crisis in the military over their inability to control the conflict’ (Interview: Charles Onyango- Obbo). A clearly anxious government reacted to the story by surrounding The Monitor’soffices and seizing material while Onyango-Obbo was at home. Bravely returning to the office to face his likely arrest and offering encouragement to his staff, Onyango-Obbo was eventually compelled to move under pressure from the government to The Nation, part of The Monitor’s parent company in Nairobi (Osike, 2002). Nevertheless, he refused to give up the fight and continued coming back to Uganda for the trial:

At that point I used to go back to Uganda every three weeks or so to go to the trial for the helicopter story. When I would come, people would say why do you come back, you are a free man? Why do you come back? I said because if I stop the guy wins, if I lose the case I’ll just stay in a Ugandan jail, I’ll serve my term and then go back to Kenya. I made that trip for about a year to attend the court. (Interview: Charles Onyango-Obbo)

Onyango-Obbo’s court case received much coverage across the media and was widely followed in Uganda, making the public struggles upon which these journalists embarked all the more effective. But it is important to recognise that the journalists pursuing this course of action (rather than going into exile, for example) did not just view the court as a soapbox from which they could excoriate the government. Journalists in Uganda have also managed to retain some respect for the integrity of the courts and acted in the belief that they could receive a somewhat 136 Media, Conflict and the State in Africa fair hearing and challenge the government through ‘lawfare’. Betraying the depic- tion of African countries as lawless, this has been a central site of conflict between the government and civil society on the continent (Comaroff & Comaroff, 2007: 133), and the decision of journalists to turn to the courts has resulted in some notable success. The Monitor successfully pushed the Supreme Court to rule that Section 50 of the criminal code that allows for two years’ imprisonment for ‘false news’ conflicts 4 with Article 29 of the 1995 Constitution guaranteeing freedom of expression. This was a very significant moment and other media outlets have had a number of other cases heard in court that challenge existing codes that limit the freedom of the media. The use of lawfare, however, is not an accessible strategy for all that work in the media; it is particularly hard for those operating from areas outside of Kampala and younger journalists who frequently lack the social and political networks to successfully access the courts. But while a lack of contacts has made the legal route harder to access for a younger generation, it has simultaneously limited the effectiveness of Museveni’s informal engagement with the media. Unsurprisingly, without the same personal networks and opportunities to appeal directly to those in power, Museveni has been able to exert less control through informal avenues. The government has adapted by formalising the government–press interaction through controversial institutions that have quickly become politicized, such as the government Media Council, and relying more on the law. Journalists in Northern Uganda, in particular, are targeted by media legislation, which the government selectively applies. As has already been alluded to in the story about the helicopter crash in Northern Uganda, the NRM is particularly sensitive to reporting on the army or national security issues, and this is often used as the rationale to limit the media. Much of the groundwork for this was laid in 1988 when the issue was debated extensively in parliament in relation to the Penal Code Act Amendment Bill in 1988, and members of parliament openly advocated generous parameters where national security concerns would take precedence over free expression. James Tumwesigye, for example, stated, ‘There is no unlimited freedom ... all these freedoms have got some limitations. But somehow, the people do not understand this.’(Second Reading of the Penal Code Act Amendment Bill, 1988: 83). The amendment was passed, criminalising the publication of anything about the army unless explicitly approved as not jeopardising national security. The result of this has been that journalists often seek to avoid security issues in their reportage, and those that are assigned to cover the war in the North, Uganda’s

4 In an example of how this law had been used, in 1997 Onyango-Obbo and Mwenda were charged for the publication of ‘false news’. The charge was made in relation to a story alleging that Laurent Kabila, who at the time was struggling to oust Mobutu Sese Seko of the Demo- cratic Republic of Congo from power, paid both the Ugandan and Rwandan army gold for their assistance. Several years later the journalists were acquitted but in 1999 Oguttu, Onyango- Obbo and deputy editor David Ouma Balikowa were charged with criminal libel and the publication of false news again. Media and Opposition in Single Party Politics 137 intervention in the Democratic Republic of the Congo or the deaths of Ugandan troops as part of the African Union Mission in Somalia (AMISOM) tread with great caution and often self-censor. Most journalists agree that there is one set of rules for reporting in Kampala and another set of rules that journalists must abide by in 5 the countryside, and especially the North. As James Oketch Bitek, The Monitor bureau’s chief in Gulu, Northern Uganda, explains:

Reporting in a war zone isn’t easy. If you report government losses with the rebels they aren’t happy. For self-survival you need to analyse things on your own ... When we report on government forces we are summoned. When the war was quite serious it was more problematic though ... There have been a lot of changes. We may not be as vigorous as in the past. Our reporting style has changed. Most of the managers now agree with the government, they have their own style. We at the grassroots level may have to change; if you write a very hard-hitting story it can be altered so you learn to write that way. For now we can go ahead with the new style. (Interview: James Oketch Bitek) Gulu is a well-positioned site from which to observe this suffocating atmosphere of government interference. Two major radio stations, Mega FM and Choice FM, principally serve the region. While Mega FM is a credible media outlet and has played an important role in promoting peace in the region, it is also a pro- government station. In contrast, Choice FM has been the station of choice for the opposition during elections and was the platform for debates with opposition leaders, including Kizza Besigye of the FDC. This has not been without consequence. Choice FM was closed during the 2006 elections for allegedly failing to follow the codes outlined by the Media Council, including recording and maintaining records of broadcasts as well as for not renewing its licence. The Broadcasting Council allegedly came and took away all their documents and then disappeared, leaving them with no way to prove that the station had the proper licence documents (Wacha, 2006). Ahead of the 2016 elections, Choice FM again had its activities interrupted with sanctions for ostensibly not paying their licence fees. In the North, an opposition stronghold, navigating election periods is particularly challenging and there are signiﬁcant restrictions on what can be reported.

conclusion

This chapter has focused on the ways the NRM, and Museveni in particular, have sought to advance their political interests in relation to the opposition media through the law and complex patronage networks. There is widespread acknow- ledgement that corruption has been a central part of Museveni’s governance strategy

5 The government’s sensitivity to reporting outside of the capital is also illustrated by the ban imposed by the Media Centre on foreign journalists in the run-up to the 2006 election stating that they had to stay within 200 km of the capital. 138 Media, Conﬂict and the State in Africa

(Asiimwe, 2013; Godfrey & Yu, 2014; Muhumuza, 2016). Museveni has been tolerant and even facilitated access to resources for leading elites as part of an effort to keep them within the ruling party and loyal. Rather than being able to hold the executive to account on this matter, much of the media instead appears to have become either embedded or excluded from this system. To understand both the scale and complexity of the government’s relationship to the media, it is helpful to consider the issue of ‘ghost’ soldiers fighting the Lord’s Resistance Army. This has been a highly publicised scandal, as it has been estimated that $25 million (USD) was being lost every year to pay soldiers who did not exist (Tangri & Mwenda, 2006). While some in the Uganda People’s Defence Force have been sacrificed as an attempt to demonstrate that the problem was being tackled, arguments have regularly been put forth about the extent to which the NRM uses the war in the North as a means for continuing to inflate the defence budget and gather resources to maintain the system of patronage. Given that donors are deeply involved in overseeing and managing parts of the budget in other areas (such as health and education), the defence budget is the most accessible for manipulation. Foreign aid also has had a role in allowing the current system of patronage to grow and has facilitated Museveni’s consolidation of power as aid flows, channelled through the state, have expanded the resources available for the government’s discretionary use (Mwenda & Tangri, 2005). Given examples of systemic corruption, it is likely that corruption will become increasingly entrenched, particularly in the media as politicians attempt to buy-off some critics. While allowing room for dissent and debate were elaborated as foundational principles for the Movement System, patronage has had an increasing role in Uganda’s politics in keeping debate within certain bounds. As this chapter has evidenced, this change in priorities has been differently felt across regions and generations. The media in rural areas is generally less institutionalised than some of the big outlets in Kampala and consequently more precarious and susceptible to suffering government ire. A lack of institutional support has led to the development of what Tito Grätz has termed ‘new media entrepreneurs’ (Grätz, 2013), in the spirit of what some of my research in Somalia has identified to be an extreme case: namely how media survives and, to some degree, thrives in the absence of state regulation (Stremlau, Fantini & Osman, 2015). When journalists are not receiving regular salaries or support for newsgathering, they often develop and rely on other strategies to support themselves. These alternative strategies include attending NGO training sessions and charging for media coverage and are often what leads entrepreneurs into the business in the first place. During the 2016 elections in Uganda, there were widespread reports of politicians offering incentives (sometimes in the form of ‘travel money’ to cover press conferences) with the clear expectation of receiving favourable coverage in return. Such incentives might include a sum of around $30–60 for general favourable coverage during the election period, as was Media and Opposition in Single Party Politics 139 the case that some journalists cited with (Ret.) Lt. General Henry Tumukunde, an NRM mobiliser, or a smaller amount of around $3–6 for a story in a less influential paper or on the radio (Soo-Ryun & Burnett, 2016). In the broader context of the NRM’s increasingly desperate efforts to remain in power and their disregard for previously cherished values, examples such as this show how patronage and corruption are becoming ever more central mechanisms for consolidating power and shaping the media. 9

Conclusion

From Guerrillas to Government: Understanding Africa’s Information Societies

The comparative lessons from this book help illuminate when and how the media has a role in the complex nation- and state-building processes of conflict and post- conflict states. By focusing on the ideas and strategies for political transition and transformation that began before Museveni and Meles came to power, and continuing the analysis well into their tenure (and that of Hailemariam Desalegn, Meles’ successor), the origin and evolution of Ethiopia’s and Uganda’s contemporary media systems has been analysed in great depth. Despite sharing similar histories and facing similar challenges, why the Ethiopian government has chosen to silence the media while it remains comparatively vibrant in Uganda is a key question raised in this book and points to the difficulties of reconciling the rhetoric and reality of leaders and regimes trying to win international support. And this is not to say that there may not be a significant reversal in the near future. This book has only tried to explain what happened. Politics is often unpredictable, and if Museveni continues his ambitious efforts to stay in office, Uganda’s media may find itself facing unprecedented pressures. Similarly, in Ethiopia, various economic, political or social forces could lead to a reversal of trends. As with democracy in general, media freedoms are built around precarious structures; it took centuries to cultivate so-called well-developed media in many rich countries. Even then, media systems in these countries are far from perfect or uniform and are presently being tested in unprecedented ways through political actors (such as Donald Trump) and technological innovations such as social media challenging the relevance of traditional media platforms and being used to spread information that is undermining democratic practices. Establishing media freedoms requires trust, which may come slowly, particularly for countries emerging from, or engaged in, violent conflict. And there are always divergent perspectives on what the role of the media should be at different times in different societies, particularly given the spectre of terrorism and continued concerns about national security.

140 Conclusion 141

Upon assuming power after long civil wars, both the EPRDF and NRM faced internal and external pressures to democratise and liberalise the media. There were two main domestic calculations that they shared. First, because the TPLF and NRM used much of their propaganda to repudiate the governments of Obote and Men- gistu for human rights abuses, both felt some obligation to differentiate themselves from prior practices with clear policy differences. Second, the EPRDF and NRM both believed that permitting some space for dissent would help them to more effectively consolidate power by gaining the trust of critics and projecting a face of tolerance. With the collapse of the Soviet Union, this approach was encouraged at a time when the liberal democratic model seemed triumphant and when new governments were eager to demonstrate to the international community that they were part of the free world. For the EPRDF and NRM, tolerating media freedoms was simpler and more immediate than fundamentally transforming their countries into fully-ﬂedged democracies. But from this starting point, the political ideologies of the two countries did, however, evolve over time in different directions, which has helped to account for the contrasting role the media has played in nation-building.

ideas, institutions and interests

Examining Ethiopia and Uganda through the framework of ideas, institutions and interests has offered insight into the role of the media and the process by which the state and politics have been restructured. The importance of ideas, particularly during the struggle and the initial stages of transitioning to civilian rule, was highlighted. Convin- cing citizens and offering a viable vision of the new nation-state has been essential to the success of both parties. Ideas helped to guide the defining and articulation of this vision and the scope, or direction, of future governance and the development project. But a key factor that emerged was the endurance of these ideas today that were forged during the struggle. Partly, this is on account of those charged with advancing the ideas or vision, namely the leadership, but it is also connected to how ideology has been articulated and promoted by those governing both domestically and abroad. In the case of Uganda, the NRM’s ideological ruminations have taken a backseat over the years, so much so that during the 2016 elections the NRM, which was once able to mobilise thousands of people to leave their homes and take up arms, was now mostly offering promises of services or infrastructure. Rather than offering idealism and lofty rhetoric, the NRM campaigned on a platform promising simple and small material gains. In Ethiopia, the ideological basis of the EPRDF has remained more stable. Despite the passing of Meles, the EPRDF’s main ideologue, ideas rooted in Revolutionary Democracy and the democratic developmental state continue to appear to guide many party policies and decisions around citizen mobilisation, elections and rent-seeking. Those arrested during the latest state of emergency have spoken of the extensive ‘re-training’ they experienced in prison, where they were 142 Media, Conflict and the State in Africa forced to participate in courses on Ethiopia’s constitution and Revolutionary Demo- cracy (Kalkidan, 2017). It is difficult to imagine such courses or programmes occurring in Uganda today and in some ways the declining role of ideology in Uganda has made the state and leadership more flexible. Conversely, many of Africa’s leaders such as Paul Kagame of Rwanda, credit the EPRDF’s ideology as one of the winning factors behind the high rates of growth and relatively low levels of corruption that the state is experiencing. When it comes to institutions, this book has carefully examined how the ruling parties sought institutional change and how the respective leaders have approached the institutions that they inherited from the previous regimes. The NRM’s and EPRDF’s approaches towards the ‘old guard’ or remnants of the previous regime have proved particularly important in assessing the direction and extent of transformation. While the NRM actively sought a more integrative and inclusive approach, the EPRDF sought to purge all those with connections to the previous regime. In Ethiopia this had the effect of creating a strong opposition media and polarised political scene, while in Uganda, many of those that may have been trenchant critics of the government were brought into the fold. Manifesting these differences, The New Vision in Uganda was an ambitious experiment in making a national government newspaper that was also widely read and popular, thus bringing the private media to the centre, encouraging dialogue and engagement. In Ethiopia, government papers such as Addis Zemen and The Ethiopian Herald remained marginal and focused on government propaganda, further polarising the media environment. How the ruling parties sought to advance their own interests, including how they engaged with opposing groups and political competition, has also been central to understanding the development of the media systems in these pages. Asking how state and non-state actors sought to put forward alternative, competing ideas and the intersection and engagement between the two spheres has been key. In Uganda, there was a strategy of both co-option and engagement. The NRM was skilful in reframing critical media and bringing potential opposition into the NRM. Even today the primary opposition in Uganda was once closely allied with Museveni, and disagreements are less around the fundamentals of the national project and more about leadership and Museveni’s autocratic hold on power. One could argue that the political process is now void of ideas but it also reflects some level of consensus on major issues about the Ugandan nation-state. In contrast, there has been little engagement between the EPRDF and its critics and an absence of consensus around key historical and contemporary political issues. Fundamental issues about the constitution and composition of the Ethiopian state remain unreconciled.

media and the making of a nation of citizens

Neither Ethiopia nor Uganda has succeeded, to use Mahmood Mamdani’s term, in creating a nation of ‘citizens’ (Mamdani, 1997), and the way in which they have Conclusion 143 attempted to consolidate their power and rule diverse populations has been signiﬁ- cantly different with repercussions for the development of the media. Both Meles and Museveni came to power promising fundamental change to desperate populations beleaguered by war and repression. Both governments have delivered to some extent on those promises but the shortfall is signiﬁcant. Interestingly enough, Museveni’s and Meles’ closest aides claimed that the other country did not change as fundamentally. As Eriya Kategaya, Uganda’s Minister for East Africa, argued:

Ethiopia hasn’t gotten out of its monarchy/hierarchy. It is still a regimented, authoritarian state. Zenawi [took] it over but did not break it. Here we wanted to deliberately break it. Now people are asking if the state is weak because we can’t order people about. (Interview: Eriya Kategaya) While Bereket Simon, head of the Political Department for the EPRDF, argued:

In Uganda, Museveni has not fundamentally restructured the state. Here we’ve restructured it radically. Sections of the elite are aggrieved and people are not ready to come to terms with the new reality. (Interview: Bereket Simon) Both Bereket and Kategaya are correct in the thrust of their critiques. Ethiopia and Uganda have struggled, and continue to struggle, with significant armed insurgency movements within their borders and their autocratic tendencies are clear. In Uganda, the turn to autocracy has provided some stability. Museveni is increasingly appearing as a traditional dictator reluctant to give up power. And with the predominance of the NRM, there has been a conspicuous lack of effort to groom a successor, apart from his son, Muhoozi Kainerugaba, who, in 2017, was appointed as an advisor to the president. Kainerugaba’s appointment has been openly interpreted in the press as a further step in him being groomed to take over the party (Barigaba, 2017). This, however, has not always appeared to be the case. Many of Museveni’s critics, including some at The Monitor and many who are in the leadership of the opposition, were once his strongest supporters, believing that the Movement System was the best chance for bringing peace and democratic change to Uganda. Oppos- ition leader Kizza Besigye was, for example, Museveni’s personal physician during the struggle, the NRM’s first Minister of State for Internal Affairs, and is the husband of Museveni’s third wife, Winnie Byanyima. During a crucial window of opportunity when they came to power, the NRM established an unprecedented level of trust and reconciliation. Through including defeated political and military parties in a genuinely broad-based government the NRM was able to reduce the influence of its harshest critics and lessen the likelihood of them taking up an armed struggle. The NRM has continued to be shrewd about co-opting or buying off critics. Similarly, a mix of innovative participatory governance structures, such as the Resistance Councils, and political persuasion 144 Media, Conflict and the State in Africa worked to build trust in the new government and a broader sense of peace despite continuing violence in the North. Ethiopia, in contrast, is a far more unstable country, signalled most recently by the protests that erupted in 2015 and 2016 and the subsequent state of emergency. Fundamental and divisive issues of political ideology among elites, many of which go back to the Student Movement, have yet to be satisfactorily resolved. Similarly, competing visions and demands for the Ethiopian state, including Amhara-elite yearning for a return to the imperial era, Oromo-elite and Ogaden-elite demands for independence, and Tigrayan-elite desire to remain the dominant power, are becoming increasingly contentious. While at this stage there seems to be no viable alternative to the federalist system, the ways in which devolution has been implemented have done little to encourage reconciliation or genuine participation. Widespread dissatisfaction about how resources have been allocated to different regions, resentment towards the secession of Eritrea and frustration with the continued overtly TPLF-dominated EPRDF make it unlikely that this party will be able to transform itself into what could be recognised as the broad-based coalition needed to move the Ethiopian state out of the present quagmire. When the EPRDF first came to power, they squandered an important period of good will. Liberation fronts such as the Oromo Liberation Front initially participated in the EPRDF until they came to believe they were not being treated as a legitimate full partner. They, along with others, such as the Ogaden National Liberation Front, thus continued their struggle violently. Similarly, as the new government failed to adequately respond to or participate in additional reconciliation conferences, many elites and intellectuals felt powerless and marginalised. The lack of dialogue and inclusiveness of former Derg civil servants and affiliates failed to reconcile visions of Ethiopia and promote a single nation- building project. The EPRDF is not willing to relinquish power, and as they continue to adroitly manage the international community’s security and development agenda and oversee consistently high levels of economic growth there is little international pressure for them to do so. While the deep fractures in Ethiopia’s body politic are not easily resolvable, the current trend of internal and regional violence suggests that the present political situation is untenable in the long-run and, unless modified, can result in either widespread violent conflict or an overthrow of the ERPDF. In contrast with the NRM’s critics that are arguing for a change in the presidency, the EPRDF’s critics are arguing for a change in the constitution. The media in Ethiopia and Uganda have come to reflect the different degrees of reconciliation that have occurred. Where the elites have been deeply polarised, as is the case in Ethiopia, the media has reflected these broad ideological gaps. In both countries, the majority of the responsibility for encouraging reconciliation and restoring trust between the government, people and media has been with the government. Conclusion 145

creating space for political negotiation: reconciliation, building historical consensus and envisioning the future of the country

As has been explored in this book through the recent histories of Uganda and Ethiopia, media can play an important role in building peace and facilitating dialogue in the aftermath of civil wars in certain circumstances. It primarily does so through providing a space for different factions to negotiate power, reconcile 1 divergent versions of history and discuss possible future visions for the country. In both Ethiopia and Uganda we saw how the liberalisation of media soon after the guerrilla movements came to power allowed groups that opposed the new governments to argue their political agendas, vie for power both from and within the new government and seek allies. In essence, in the Albert Hirschman sense of it, many they were given the space to exercise ‘voice’ (Hirschman, 1970). Initially, this reduced the incentives for opposition movements to exit the political process of transition and return to the bush to continue their wars or initiate a new guerrilla struggle. Of course, not all groups chose to engage the new governments in this forum: the LRA, for example, almost immediately began an armed struggle against the NRA. But the NRM succeeded in incorporating many other opposition forces into its government and tolerated their criticism within the media. Building consensus about the nature of the political transformation the EPRDF and NRM hope to deliver continues to be an important role for media in both countries, particularly as newspapers are the dominant medium of record. In Uganda, support for the NRM was widespread and the EPRDF also had solid constituencies across much of Ethiopia. But the way in which media in Ethiopia compared with Uganda approached the recent past was different. In Uganda, both The Monitor and especially The New Vision contributed to the building of a consensus around the NRM that seemed elusive during the civil war.

1 This is different from what many working in the ‘peace journalism’ field might argue. While in some cases NGOs in this field have been successful, such as Fondation Hirondell’s Radio Okapi in the DRC, at other times the projects appear to misunderstand the political context, the underlying nature of the conflict or the possible resolutions. Search for Common Ground (SFCG), for example, argues that: ‘One way to look at it is that we live in a world of differences – of ideology, belief systems, ethnicity, social and cultural values, whatever it might be. These differences are completely natural ...As human beings we have an instinctive, emotional response to conflict that is often based on fear. When this reaction consumes our reason it can lead to violence. On the other hand, when differences are acknowledged and approached in non-adversarial ways, such as by looking for common interests, they can lead to progress.’ (Search for Common Ground) Thus, as a way of dealing with such conflicts, SFCG encourages football games and radio shows between Hutus and Tutsis in Burundi. But, as Seaton reminds us in Media of Conflict, ‘The problem is that reducing the social and economic realities, and the complex historical causes, that underlie and prolong these conflicts to ‘ethnicity’ de-politicises them. Such explanations collude with protagonists’ nationalistic, mythologized interpretations of history that form part of the ideological battle that accompanies persecution.’ (Allen & Seaton, 1999: 43–44). 146 Media, Conflict and the State in Africa

On central issues, the two newspapers’ perspectives did not diverge significantly. This was a remarkable fact, as pointed out by William Pike in an interview in Chapter 6, and reiterated in many interviews with other informants, ‘ ...in ’86 even key facts weren’t accepted, so I think the media as a whole, not just The New Vision has really helped to build that kind of consensus’ (Interview: William Pike). This has also been important in providing a basis upon which to envision the future of the country. Again, while both The Monitor and The New Vision did not have a completely dissimilar vision for Uganda, media provided a forum for defining, elaborat- ing and debating this vision. A space where both the government and critics could engage with each other was important and provided useful feedback for the government to not only test out the popularity of ideas but to act as a litmus test to gauge the mood and intentions of competing political elements. In Ethiopia, significantly divergent perspectives on Ethiopian history and unity are immediately clear when reading prominent newspapers such as The Ethiopian Herald and Tobiya. Often appealing to distinct political constituencies in the country, newspapers have been important outlets for presenting perspectives and airing grievances, but the lack of subsequent dialogue or real attempt to reach consensus has been the major failure of media to serve as a forum for peacebuilding. Much of the potential the media has to help reconcile differing political visions is dependent on the level of trust between the state (including the judiciary) and media. As this book has argued, trust between these two parts has developed differently in Ethiopia compared with Uganda. In any nation-building project there are inevitably disagreements on the extent of freedoms and liberties that should be tolerated. In Uganda, journalists have been less eager to critique the whole political project of the government and more engaged on policy issues and holding politicians to account on the daily running of government. Ethiopian journalists working for the government have enjoyed little space to criticise the EPRDF on even pro- cessional matters, while journalists of the private press have been more concerned with debates over political ideology. This difference is partly a response to access of information, or the amount of information governments were willing to provide, but it also reflected very different priorities and ambitions of opposition groups. Trust has also meant that there is a clear difference between Uganda and Ethiopia in the level of confidence that Ugandan journalists have had to engage in struggles against the state. In Uganda, Charles Onyango-Obbo and other informants spoke regularly in interviews of ‘expanding the circle’ and of challenging the government to reform media legislation and provide more space to journalists. The confidence in speaking out is rooted in Museveni’s belief that critics in the media only challenge his policies and not the fundamentals of the Movement System project. With this reassurance, Museveni has been reluctant to use the full force of the state against journalists. Consequentially, Ugandan journalists have tended to act with the belief that the judiciary is sufficiently independent to hear their case and give them a fair trial. Unusually, some journalists have even gone so far as to embrace Conclusion 147 government legal action as a chance to change broader policies and set new norms for the judiciary. In this process, The New Vision has had an important role in setting the tone for government–media interactions. The paper helped to forge disparate debates into a national debate, bringing dialogue together to the centre. An ambitious project at the outset, The New Vision has managed to achieve quite remarkable things, helping to create consensus and promote the institutionalisation of media companies, and explaining government policies and positions in a way that was more balanced than pure propaganda. The New Vision helped set a tone for dialogue that won the confidence of the majority of newspaper readers. Museveni also had an influential role by directly answering criticisms levelled at him within media and providing access and regular information to all journalists. This even included answering some of his strongest critics at The Monitor and his willingness in this regard has contributed to reducing tensions and polarisation within media. In contrast, little trust has been built between the government and media in Ethiopia. Media–state relations in Ethiopia have been fraught almost since the first day of the EPRDF’s rule and were exacerbated by the events surrounding the 2005 elections. Today there is effectively no space for dialogue and the mediation of competing ideologies. Given the EPRDF initially allowed a free media, this is not for lack of media outlets but rather because of failed engagement. With an aver- sion to criticism, a sense of entitlement and no effective means of communicating their positions through a paper such as The New Vision, much of the blame for the current state of play lies with the government. By failing to engage with the arguments of the opposition and the private media, the EPRDF has done little to create a political mainstream. As the EPRDF did not consider it necessary to explain their actions or policies domestically, Meles and his successor, Desalegn, have seldom engaged with, or even acknowledged, private journalists unless it has been in relation to their role in perceived threats to stability or allegations of terrorism. Not only have private media outlets been unable to write balanced reports but the issue is more that there has just been a void. The exclusion has also contributed to a deep level of frustration. The EPRDF’s decision to purge old institutions and harry dissenting voices has singularly failed to encourage trust or reconciliation. Particu- larly after the 2005 elections, the government newspapers have taken a staunchly pro-government position and set a tone of aggression that the private press responded to even more vigorously. This has continued over the years. Unsurprisingly, in this mistrustful environment, journalists in Ethiopia have been far less willing and able to challenge the government. Journalists have little confidence in the justice system, and in a number of cases have preferred to go into exile rather than continuing to face trials in their country. The gulf in expectations between the state and the media can often be enormous. Where Museveni and the media approach each other in Uganda able to reasonably predict future developments, journalists in Ethiopia have typically expected unfettered freedom of expression while the government has tended to portray such freedoms as a privilege 148 Media, Conflict and the State in Africa or gift rather than part of the political process. What comes prominently to the fore in this study of media–government relations is the importance of personal relationships. Particularly in situations where media is less institutionalised (as was the case when Museveni and Meles came to power), journalist–government relations are frequently characterised by past connections stretching as far back as the 1960sand1970s.

re-examining the role of media in conﬂict-affected countries

Arguments calling for press freedoms to help the processes of democratisation often focus too much on the media’s role in holding governments accountable. Despite containing a simple logic, examples abound of more complicated and unpredictable outcomes. Why do extremely corrupt governments increasingly tolerate some of the freest media in Africa? And why, despite Amartya Sen’s claims (Sen, 1981), do famines still exist in countries with a free press? Too often, debates on the rights and responsibilities of the media get caught in seductive and seemingly universal axioms that are much less certain under closer analysis. Media systems, as this book has argued, often operate according to their own logic and must be understood on their own terms. The previous section argued that the media in Ethiopia and Uganda has provided an incredibly important forum for elite negotiation. This should not be surprising. While recognising the risk of appearing to theorize about a historical development pattern for media, which is not the intention here, Daniel Hallin and Paolo Mancini noted in Comparing Media Systems that:

From the beginning of the print era, particularly from the time of the Reformation, political advocacy was also a central function of the print media, and by the late eighteenth to early nineteenth century, when the newspaper began to emerge as a force in political life, this became its principle function ...The political journalist was a publicist who saw it as his or her role to inﬂuence public opinion in the name of a political faction or cause, and in many cases newspapers were established on the initiative of political parties or other political actors, or supported by them. (Hallin & Mancini, 2004: 26)

They go on to argue the current Western model emerged in the late nineteenth century where,

the journalist was seen as a neutral arbiter of political communication, standing apart from particular interests and causes, providing information and analysis “uncoloured” by partisanship. This was often connected with the development Conclusion 149

of a commercial press, whose purpose was to make money rather than to serve a political cause, and that was ﬁnanced by advertising rather than by subsidies from political actors. It was also often connected with the development of journalistic professionalism ... (Hallin & Mancini, 2004: 26)

The purpose of bringing up the issue of the historical development of media in the West is to stress a point that is sometimes made by political economists but seldom by those in the media and development field: the pressures on developing countries by developed countries to adopt ‘good policies’ and ‘good institutions’, which include features such as a ‘watchdog press’, are often based on the assumptions that such policies were part of the development trajectory of the countries recommend- ing them (Chang, 2002, 2008). These expectations on what the media ought to be doing in the Global South are divorced from political realities. What remains safe to say, though, is that media can play an important role in nation-building and peace- building, whether it manifests itself in the model of late nineteenth-century Europe, that of the Reformation or any other model. Future research, policy and NGO activities should be based more carefully on the specificities of each country’s development rather than on constructing grand regional narratives. Uganda has been more successful in rebuilding public trust than Ethiopia. Many newspaper readers have a preference for a particular publication, but there is sufficient regard for the industry itself that many papers are seen as acceptable to readers no matter their political allegiance. This differs from Ethiopia, where there has been almost no shared readership between government and private publications such as Ethiop or Tobiya. As discussed here, media can play an important role in mediating difficult political processes in conflict situations but it takes the cooperation of all parties, particularly journalists and the government, to restore the public’s trust in the media as an institution. Government engagement with media helps to legitimise the media and make the voices it represents feel included in the debate. It is when media is entirely ignored by the government, as in Ethiopia, that the greatest damage can occur. Journalists who are left to struggle with unsubstanti- ated stories do little to restore readers’ belief in the role of media in the nation- building process. This book finds that media, and the press in particular, provides an important forum for intra-elite negotiation. When it comes to the print media, direct engagement is confined to the literate, although print’sinfluence extends beyond this relatively narrow demographic in both countries. Undoubtedly, language has also been a factor in why the elite press operates in a somewhat different space in Uganda compared with Ethiopia. In both countries, publications in local languages are popular but Ugandan journalists and readership have greater access to English- language media outlets (and higher levels of English language competence), thus 150 Media, Conflict and the State in Africa increasing competition between local and international media organisations. And in Uganda the debates can have a significant impact across the country, as radio stations pick up stories and translate them into local languages. In Ethiopia, the local private press has remained limited to Amharic and English speakers in Addis Ababa, a select group with narrow constituencies but a strong voice in the nation- building process. In understanding how public opinion is shaped in Africa, it is becoming increasingly important to extend research beyond the mediums of media or radio. Across both countries, news stories and political developments are more and more often being followed on the Internet, connecting diaspora and disparate populations in new ways. Perhaps for the first time, this online coverage has enabled international news organisations such as Reuters to pick up stories in the local media. These other outlets, which use or refer to stories on traditional media, have their own voices and momentum, although print media remains the dominant source of news gathering. Public debates on Facebook and online forums are crucial places researchers should listen in on, while Resistance Councils in Uganda and the Orthodox Church or local mosques in Ethiopia, for example, remind us of the hugely variegated spaces within which public opinion is formed. Research I have conducted in neighbouring Somaliland suggests that it was the role of poetry that galvanised support and spread messages about the struggle of the Somali National Movement’s liberation war (Stremlau, 2012, 2013a, 2013b). These spaces are under-researched but have many connections with the elite press. A promising area for future research on the media in Africa is on these more informal mediums of communication and their connections with elite power, new technologies and audience reception.

the role of the state

The examples of Ethiopia and Uganda show that the government’s voice, as well as its legislative framework for the media, is a major factor in the development of the media. It is important to recognise those times when states act as proactive agents of positive change rather than solely depicting the state as an entity that invariably 2 blocks the development of the media. A question more usefully asked of the media in Ethiopia and Uganda should be how the state can contribute to creating a competitive environment rather than how it should step back from the process. In essence, this is what the African nationalists of the 1960s chose to ask themselves as they looked forward to gaining their independence. Failing to acknowledge the potentially positive role of the state is particularly an issue for international human rights groups. Amongst these organisations, an approach of legal absolutism – that often fails to account for the messy realities of development and transition – built upon solidly liberal values dominates. While their work is often hugely important

2 See for example Khan (2002). Conclusion 151

(not least in protecting the lives of journalists), some of the work these groups do shows little understanding of the real issues at play within particular contexts. Standardised analyses and evaluative frameworks across countries are common, illustrating a template rationale where an argument is the same and universally applicable. The reports that are produced and widely read by these organisations tend to carry a judicious and detached tone that cloaks what are frequently highly politicised interventions. Arguments for freedom of expression are almost always advanced through a narrative where the state is the oppressor and the journalist is unhelpfully idealised as the champion of freedom. There are real repercussions to these organisations’ approaches that can com- plicate situations. This can be seen when human rights groups’ celebrated the Ethiopian Free Press Journalist Association (EFPJA). In 2004 Kifle Mulat, the head of EFPJA, was awarded the Amnesty International Special Award for Human Rights Journalism under Threat. Local journalists, however, have been quick to point out that the EFPJA have failed to hold regular elections, was not properly audited and generally did not function in a transparent way. Such criticisms pointed to the fact that the organisation’s international support was more a function of its outspoken opposition to the Meles regime than for its commitment to good governance and 3 transparency. Interventions of this kind show that even well-intentioned NGOs are often significantly intervening in domestic politics and, in some cases, encouraging even greater polarisation and distrust in the media system. Eager to promote change, democracy has begun to be conflated with opposition to the ruling regime by many NGOs, and it is considered odd if the independent media does not share this perspective. Those journalists that present the strongest opposition pieces in the media are often held up by these international organisations as the bearers of democracy and many have become adept at manipulating the organisations and gaining undeserving support. The discourse of human rights advocacy groups has been adopted and reinterpreted by many journalists, yet in practice only some share their priorities. Along with listening in on less obvious spaces, a more nuanced understanding of the complex roles journalists have in the nation-building process rather than what is normatively defined for them is required. In many respects, as this book has noted, the literature on development, governance and conflict has been more instructive and informed about politics and ideas in Eastern Africa. Greater dialogue between communications studies and other social science disciplines would enrich both fields. In an effort to move beyond normative assumptions of journalists as good watchdogs challenging bad governments, analysis of the media outlets, and those that work for them, can provide a more nuanced insight into the complex nation-building process. This requires hard

3 EFPJA was eventually dropped from the international network IFEX that represents a global network of freedom of expression organisations. See Berhane (2013). 152 Media, Conﬂict and the State in Africa labour and an appreciation of history that has been missing from much of the existing literature. Meles, for example, was exceptionally talented in manipulating the impressions of the international community and portraying himself as a peaceful democrat. But, as Gerard Prunier suggests, much more could be understood about his approach to internal dissent from a closer reading of his past:

Most of the others that created the TPLF have been killed. Meles is very good with political infighting but most foreigners are totally ignorant of his past ...In the past twenty years there has been a total collapse of the degree of information about Africa ... People can’t analyse politics. 4 (Interview: Gerard Prunier) Understanding the politics has been the ambition of this book and its analysis of the processes of transition from civil war to peace in Uganda and Ethiopia. While other researchers have looked at these two countries and asserted that the present media systems often reflect their past regimes, I have more firmly and precisely located the present-day media systems in the failures and successes of reconciliation, consolidation of power and wider nation-building agendas. Rather than reach back to the undeniably tumultuous and transformative nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, this book has instead closely followed the NRM and TPLF’s journey from fighting bitter civil wars in the 1980s to embarking on large-scale and ambitious nation-building projects in the 1990s and beyond. The questions raised in this book should find echoes elsewhere. Early modernisation theory in the 1950s proffered the notion that Western policy makers with the right plan and plenty of cash could rid developing countries of their problems. Although the hubris has since been turned down, the underlying presumption too often still dominates. It is not unusual to encounter Western-instigated and funded media projects reminiscent of those launched fifty years ago. In the Institute for Ethiopian Studies in Addis Ababa, for example, one can visit the archives and find decades of policy papers relating to how the radio will bring literacy or other development projects. While NGOs no longer plan information campaigns on the scale that the Derg regime undertook, for example during their wide-ranging literacy campaign, similar work continues by multiple organisations at present. The occasional big pushes which are so characteristic of international aid policy regularly fail despite trillions of dollars being spent, partly because the wrong questions are being asked. William Easterly suggests approaches to development are dominated by ‘planners’ and ‘searchers’. The planner ‘already knows the answers; he thinks of poverty as a technical engineering problem that his answers will solve’. Many media developers follow this line: if a free media does not exist, one can

4 For more on discipline within the TPLF, executions of errant members and competition among the leadership, see Young (1997: 140–141). Conclusion 153 be developed and this will lead to a democratic ‘modern’ country. A searcher, in contrast,

hopes to find answers to individual problems only by trial and error experimen- tation. A planner believes outsiders know enough to impose solutions. A searcher believes only insiders have enough knowledge to find solutions, and that most solutions must be homegrown. (Easterly, 2006: 5-6) This book hopes to provide searchers with more tools to understand the complexities of these two regional players’ media environments. While Uganda’s and Ethiopia’s neighbours, Rwanda, Eritrea and Somaliland, share similar histories and developments, as well as other countries on the continent, the likely lessons and implications of this book lay in the approach, rather than the conclusions, when searching for the specificities at play. Nonetheless, it can serve as a starting point for all analysis to recognise that that media play an unavoidable role in societies transitioning from violence to peace. Any analyst interested in warning signs for tensions that could possibly erupt in violence should take the debates and the extent of engagement between the government and media seriously.

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Index

Addis Reporter, 27 print media culture, 23–25 Addis Zemen newspaper, 26, 28, 64, 71, 81, 142 Uganda, 19–21 Afeworki, Isaias, 5 autocratic government, 1, 63 African Development Bank, 42 autonomy, deﬁned, 63 African National Congress (ANC), 8, 101 African Pilot, 31 Ba’ath party, 114 African Power and Politics Programme, 8 baitos (people’s councils), 49, 56 Afrobarometer, 4, 20 Bantu group, 22 Agena, Sissay, 82–83 Barifa newspaper, 71 Ahmara National Democratic Movement Berhana Salem printing press, 25 (ANDM), 57 Berhe, Aregawi, 48–49, 53 Al Alam newspaper, 71 Berlin Wall, 52, 65 Albania, 52 Besigye, Kizza, 19–20, 137, 143 Albright, Madeline, 5 Bezabih, Mairegu, 82 Ali, Moses, 114 Bharti Airtel, 126 All Amhara Peoples’ Organization (AAPO), 58 Biafran War in Nigeria, 32 American Civil Rights Movement, 9 Bitek, James Oketch, 137 American Embassy, 27 blogs/blogging Amhara group, 22, 46, 57 blocking of, 17 Amhara-Tigre supremacy, 43 criticism of EPRDF, 92 Amin, Idi, 5, 33–36, 101 political information from, 63 Amnesty International Special Award for Human professionalisation and, 123 Rights Journalism under Threat, 151 Zone 9 blogging collective, 16, 69–70, 95 anti-establishment coverage, 131–132 Blumler, Jay, 37 anti-peace groups, 16, 77 Buganda Government, 30–31 anti-terrorism legislation, 88 Bukedde newspaper, 21 Anti-Terrorism Proclamation (2009), 94 Business Process Re-Engineering (BPR), 64 Aregawi, Amare, 11, 54, 64, 69, 89–91 Bussedde, Daudi, 30 Ashenaﬁ, Meaza, 59 Buturo, Nsaba, 115 asylum seekers, 95 Buwembo, Joachim, 124 Atbia Kokeb Publishing and Advertising Company Byanyima, Winnie, 143 (AKPAC), 66 Byaruhanga, Catherine, 106–107 authoritarian politics and free expression Ethiopia, 16–19, 143 Calleb, Omogi, 46 introduction to, 15–16 Campus Star journal, 46–47 media expansion, 21–23 Catholic Church, 31

169 170 Index centralisation of power, 63 Desalegn, Hailemariam, 41 Charter (1991), 81 destabalising elements, 74 Che Guevara, Ernesto, 100–101 Deutsche Welle, 18 Chinese Communist Party (CCP), 102 developmental democratic state, 18 Chinese involvement in Africa, 6 dewesternizing media studies, 7 Chinese telecommunications company, 6 dictatorships, 52 Chissano, Joachim, 5 Dimtsi Bihere Tigray newspaper, 47 Choice FM radio station, 137 The Citizen newspaper, 36 Ebifa mu Buganda newsletter, 30 civil disobedience campaign, 88 economic growth rates, 4 civil service departments, 62 The Economy newspaper, 36 Clinton, Bill, 5 elections Coalition for Unity and Democracy (CUD), 82, democratic elections, 16 86–87 Ethiopia (2005), 84–92 Cold War, 5, 46 Ethiopia (2010/2015), 92–95 Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ), 70 multi-party elections, 15 Communist propaganda, 42 Rwanda, 18 Comparing Media Systems (Mancini), 148–149 Uganda, 20 Conference on Peace and Reconciliation, 79, 96 voter turn-out, 20 Congress for Cultural Freedom, 33 Emambya Esaze show, 31 constitution (sirit), 49 entrepreneurship programmes, 93 constitution-making, 54–59 Eritrean leadership, 5 Constitutional Commission, 58–59 Etek newspaper, 47 constitutionally-limited presidential terms, 112 Ethiop newspaper, 82–83, 85, 88–89 Council of Alternative Forces for Peace and Ethiopia. see also nongovernment media as Democracy in Ethiopia (CAFPDE), 79–80 political oppression Culture Department, 52–53 anti-terrorism legislation, 88 authoritarian politics and free expression, 16–19, The Daily Monitor newspaper, 117 143 de-Baathiﬁcation of the Iraqi civil service, 113 economic growth rates, 4 De Temmerman, Els, 125 elections (2005), 84–92 decentralisation, 110–111, 115 elections (2010/2015), 92–95 Democracia newspaper, 28, 47 freedom assessment, 5 democracy ideas, institutions and interests, 141–142 attempts at, 108–109 leadership impact, 3, 7–14 developmental democratic state, 18 liberalisation of media, 145 liberal democracy, 33, 42, 107, 141 media and, 21–23, 67–71, 142–144, 146 ‘no-party’ democracy, 118 new technologies, 2 pluralist democratic model, 107 overview of, 12–13 revolutionary democracy, 3–4, 41–42, 61–65, 89 political culture, 63 student debate over, 43 print media culture, 25–30 democratic accountability, 63 Ethiopia since the Derg (2002), 58 democratic centralism, 52 Ethiopian Broadcasting Corporation, 67 democratic developmental state, 42, 61 Ethiopian Civil Service University, 42 democratic elections, 16 Ethiopian Democratic Ofﬁcers’ Revolutionary Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC), Movement (EDORM), 54 6, 137 Ethiopian developmental model Department for International Development constitution-making, 54–59 (DFID), 64 guerrilla struggle, 47–54 Derg regime introduction to, 41–43 former employees of, 66 TPLF ideology, 43–47 media of, 5, 28, 82, 144 Ethiopian Free Press Journalist Association socialist agenda, 29 (EFPJA), 151 TPLF struggle against, 42, 48 Ethiopian Health Ministry, 61 Index 171

The Ethiopian Herald newspaper, 27–28, 64, 71, freedom of expression, 2, 66, 110, 136. see also 81 authoritarian politics and free expression Ethiopian Mass Media Training Institute Frente de Libertação de Moçambique (EMMTI), 70 (FRELIMO), 101 Ethiopian News Agency (ENA), 11, 64, 68, 73, 87 Frondizi, Arturo, 9 Ethiopian People’s Revolutionary Democratic Furley, Oliver, 110 Front (EPRDF) authoritarian politics and free expression, 16–19, Gebre-Egziaber, Fetlework, 49 141 Gebre-Mariam, Negash, 28–29 critical reports of, 92 Gebreselassie, Roman, 93 effort to seize control, 92–95 Ge’ez language, 24 freedom assessment, 5 Gerges, Fawaz A., 113 ideological formulations, 41–43, 60–61 Ghana, 4–5, 15, 20 introduction to, 3–4 Gidada, Negasso, 58–59 one-party states and, 15 gimgema system, 50–51, 64 overview of, 12–13 glasnost, 52 ownership rights, 83–84 Goh, newspaper, 28, 47 peace from, 5–6 group rights, 61 private media and, 147 guerrilla struggle radio broadcasts, 53 Ethiopian developmental model, 47–54 societal divisions and, 85 introduction to, 3, 6 summary of, 141–142 leadership impact, 7 TPFL and, 54–59 media tools, 104 Ethiopian Press Agency (EPA), 64, 71–72 Soviet support, 105 Ethiopian Radio, 29 study of, 10 Ethiopian Telecommunication Corporation, 6, Tigrayan People’s Liberation Front, 25 92, 94 Ethiopian Television, 11 Haile-Mariam, Mengistu, 28–29, 47 Ethiopia’s Civil Service College (ECSC), 65 Haile Selassie I University, 46 EthioTelecom, 19 Hailu, Befeqadu, 41–42 ethnic based liberation movements, 44 Handbook of Elementary Notes on Revolution and ethnic federalism, 55, 78, 81 Organization handbook, 46 ethnic politics, 66, 76 homosexuality, 124–125 ethnic rights, 22–23 Hoxha, Enver, 52 ethno-nationalism, 46 Human Rights Watch, 88–89 human rights watchdogs, 114 Facebook, 18, 20, 94, 126, 150 ‘fake news’, 1, 126 ICTs, 16, 77, 91 famine, 45–46, 148 Iftin newspaper, 96 fascist propaganda, 26 Ilakut, Ben Bella, 34–36 Fasil, Serkalem, 88 Information for the Transitional Government, February Revolution (1974), 28 65 Federal Democratic Movement of Uganda Information Network Security Agency (INSA), (FEDEMU), 114 63, 94 Federal Democratic Republic of Ethiopia, 80 institutional memory, 95 federalism, 84, 144 institutional transformation foco theory, 100–101 failures in, 75–76 Foreign Affairs Department, 53 introduction to, 60–61 Foreign Affairs newspaper, 5 media houses in Ethiopia, 67–71 Former Uganda National Army (FUNA), 114 polarised media, 78–84 Fortune newspaper, 90 previous regimes, 65–67 Forum for Democratic Change (FDC), 19, 126 propaganda and, 71–75 free press, 31, 67, 71, 148 revolutionary democracy, 61–65 Freedom House’s Press Freedom Index, 5 institutionalisation, 120 172 Index institutions and media conﬂict in Africa, 141–142 Mayanja, Abu, 32, 118–119 Internal Security Organisation, 129 Mazrui, Ali, 111 International Monetary Fund, 62, 115 Mbeki, Thabo, 5 Internet impact, 2, 16, 69, 73, 77, 150 media conﬂict in Africa Iraqi civil service, 113 free press and, 31, 67, 71, 148 Islamic State (ISIS), 113 ideas, institutions and interests, 141–142 introduction to, 1–3 Japan, 62 lawfare and media politics, 134–137 leadership impact on, 7–14 Kaberukla, Donald, 42 nation of citizens through, 142–144 Kabushenga, Robert, 125 political negotiation and, 145–148 Kagame, Paul, 4, 18, 42, 92, 142 role of media, 148–150 Kainerugaba, Muhoozi, 143 role of the state, 150–153 Kamal, Shimelis, 91 ruling parties and, 3–7 Katalikawe, James, 110 summary of, 140–141 Kategaya, Eriya, 102, 105, 108–109, 115–116, 143 media houses in Ethiopia, 67–71 kebeles (village councils), 56–57, 93 media polarization, 61 Kenya, 10, 46, 68–69, 131 Mega FM radio station, 137 Kenyatta, Jomo, 26 Menelik II, 45 Kiggundu, Clement, Father, 34 Menelik newspaper, 88–89 Kingdom of Axum, 44–45 Mengo Notes newsletter, 30 Kivejinja, Ali Kirunda, 116 messianic iconography, 42 kleptocratic government, 1 Meznania newspaper, 90 kodere (village keeper), 49 Ministry of Information, 65 Kubitschek, Juscelino, 9 Mkapa, Benjamin, 32, 101 mobile phones, 2, 16, 93–94 Labader newspaper, 28, 47 Mobile Telecommunications Network (MTN), lawfare and media politics, 134–137 126 Lefort, René, 63, 85 Mogus, Goshu, 82 legal absolutism, 150 Mondlane, Eduardo, 102 Lenin, Vladimir, 3, 100 The Monitor newspaper, 21, 120, 127–134 Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transsexual (LGBT) Movement System citizens, 124 liberal principles of, 113 liberal democracy, 33, 42, 107, 141 one-party systems vs., 107 Lisane Hezeb newspaper, 83, 88–89 overview of, 3–4, 13 Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA), 6, 138 political trends, 99, 110–111 Lule, Mulugeta, 82 politics of, 112 as single-party system, 131 Makonnen, Walleligne, 47 Mozambique leadership, 5 Mamdani, Mahmood, 12 Mukholi, David, 120 Mancini, Paolo, 148–149 Mulengera newspaper, 36 Mandela, Nelson, 78 multi-party elections, 15 Mao Tse-tung, 100 Mumtaz, Kassam, 130 Marxist-Leninism Murdoch, Rupert, 69 attachment to, 3, 50 Museveni, Yoweri defenders of, 52 anti-government protests, 106 dictatorships, 52 authoritarian leadership of, 21, 127, 132 interpretation of, 29, 46, 51 corruption and, 137–138 orthodox reading of, 61 election changes by, 19 Marxist Leninist League of Tigray (MLLT), 51–52, engagement with media, 136, 146 62 overview of, 7–8, 11, 99–100 Masiko, Kabakumba, 106 political aims, 143 Mass (Civic) Organization Department, 52–53 principled reconciliation, 114 material interests, 12 views of, 108–109 Index 173

Musoke, Kintu, 116 Noggo, Dima, 65 Mutabazi, Godfrey, 126 non-partisan World Press, 106 Muteesa, Edward, 31 non-sectarianism, 99 Mwenda, Andrew, 133–134 nongovernment media as political oppression introduction to, 77–78 nation-building projects. see state- and national elections in Ethiopia, 84–92 nation-building projects polarised media, 78–84 National Election Board (NEB), 17 summary of, 95–96 National Election Board of Ethiopia (NEBE), non governmental organizations (NGOs), 151–152 86 Nyerere, Julius, 15, 32, 100 National Resistance Army Council (NRAC), 102–103 Obote, Milton, 31–33, 106 National Resistance Council (NRC), 102 The Observer newspaper, 117 National Resistance Movement (NRM), 3. see also Odoki, Ben, 109 single-party politics; state- and nation-building Ogaden National Liberation Front (ONLF), 6, by NRM 56–57, 144 freedom assessment, 5 Oguttu, Wafula, 128–132 governance by, 22 Ojok, Oyite, 107 introduction to, 99–100, 112–113 Okello, Tito, 107 media and lawfare, 134–137 one-party systems, 15, 62, 107. see also single-party media and political mobilisation, 104–107, politics 117–120 Onyango-Obbo, Charles, 70–71, 95, 128, 133, 135, one-party states and, 15 146 overview of, 13–14 organisation legal authority, 79 peace from, 5–6 Oromo group, 22 politics of governing, 107–111, 141 Oromo Liberation Front (OLF), 56–57, 144 relationship with media, 68, 145 Oromo Peoples’ Democratic Organization repressive actions by, 48 (OPODO), 54, 57 roots and early practice, 100–104 Oromos protests, 16, 41 summary of, 111, 141–142 Orthodox Christianity, 44 Ten-Point Programme, 103–104, 115 Overseas Development Institute, 8 Nega, Eskinder, 88–89 Nega, Sebhat, 48, 52 Pankhurst, Sylvia, 26 Neogy, Rajat, 32–33 Parliamentary Committee on Information and New Day, 30 Culture, 71 new leaders, 3–7, 99 participation fatigue, 109 new media entrepreneurs, 138 peace-building, 79–80 new technologies, 2 Peace Corps, 27 New Times and Ethiopia News, 26 Peasant Associations, 93 New Vision Corporation, 13 Penal Code Act Amendment Bill (1988), 136 The New Vision newspaper People’s Democratic Republic of Ethiopia, 80 development of, 105–106, 113 perestroika, 52 NRM and, 117–120 Pike, William, 117–118, 125, 130 overview of, 21, 36 pluralist democratic model, 107 role of, 68, 72, 113, 147 polarised media, 78–84 news media support, 20 Political and Diplomatic Sub-Committee, 102 Newsletter journal, 47 political negotiation and media conﬂict, 145–148 newspaper media, 18, 25–30, 117–120. see also political organisations, 80 speciﬁc newspapers politics of governing, 107–111 Ngabo newspaper, 36 Popular Resistance Army (PRA), 100 Nigeria, 26, 32 populist protest, 1 Nilotic group, 22 Press Freedom and Communication in Africa Nkrumah, Kwame, 15, 26, 32 (Eribo, Jong-Ebot), 24 ‘no-party’ democracy, 118 Press Law violations, 88 174 Index print media culture introduction to, 1 Ethiopia, 25–30 platforms as non-events, 78 introduction to, 23–25 prohibition of, 16, 20 newspaper media, 18, 25–30, 117–120 Twitter, 20, 126 summary of, 37 WhatsApp, 20, 94, 126 Uganda, 30–37 socialism, 29, 43, 111 professionalisation, 120–123 societal divisions, 85 propaganda, 71–75, 87 Socio-Economic Committee, 52–53 Propaganda Department, 52–53 Solomonic lineage, 43 Somali National Movement, 150 radio, 18–19, 53–54, 137 Somaliland, 11 Radio Freedom, 10 South Africa, 4–5, 8, 10, 26, 32 Radio Halgan, 11 South African Broadcast Corporation (SABC), 11 Radio Uganda, 116 South West Africa People’s Organizations of Rawlings, Jerry, 5 Namibia (SWAPO), 10, 101 realpolitik, 2 Southern Ethiopian People’s Democratic reconciliation projects, 1, 79–80 Movement (SEPDM), 57 Red Pepper newspaper, 124–125 Southern Nations, Nationalities and Peoples’ Red Terror, 29 Region (SNNPR), 86 Reda, Getachew, 75 Soviet Union, 46, 52 Relief Society of Tigray (REST), 49, 51 spyware, 94 The Reporter newspaper, 87, 89–91 Ssali, Bidandi, 116 Resistance Councils (RCs), 102, 115, 150 Sseezi-Cheeye, Teddy, 128 Resistance News, 10–11 Ssekeba, Drake, 36, 123 revolutionary democracy, 3–4, 41–42, 61–65, 89 staff morale in media, 72–73 Rolling Stone magazine, 124–125 Stalin, Joseph, 55 Royal Air Force, 45 state- and nation-building by NRM rule of law, 95 appeal of, 99 ruling parties, 3–7 EPRDF, 60–61 Rwanda, 4, 6, 18, 142 inclusivity and, 113–117 Rwandan Genocide (1994), 87 introduction to, 112–113 Rwandan Patriotic Front, 18 media role in, 149 The New Vision newspaper role in, 113 Saleh, Salim, 134 overview of, 1–2, 14 Scandinavian countries, 62 political ideals, 21, 111 secession, 84 summary of, 125, 140–141 securitisation of development, 128 through newspaper media, 117–120 Sekanyola, 30 Struggle magazine, 28, 43, 47 Selassie, Haile, Emperor, 25–26, 29, 43–44, 46 Student Movement, 25, 43, 55, 61, 82, 144 Sen, Amartya, 148 sub-Saharan Africa, 5, 24 Simon, Bereket, 60, 65–66, 74, 143 Sudan People’s Liberation Army (SPLA), 51 Simpson, Ian, 27 The Sunday Vision newspaper, 120 single-party politics introduction to, 126–128 Taban, Alfred, 51 media and lawfare, 134–137 Talbot, David, 27 opposition to, 128–134 Tanzania, 15, 131 summary of, 137–139 Teberer, Richard Olal, 128–129 Sisulu, Walter, 11 Telecom Fraud Offences Proclamation (2012), Sisulu, Zwelakhe, 11 94 Smith, Guthrie, 31 television, 18–19, 53–54, 137 SMS messaging, 17 Ten-Point Programme, 103–104, 115 social media terrorism, 140 attempts to block, 126–127, 134 Teshome, Zerihun, 96 Facebook, 18, 94, 126, 150 Tigray National Organization (TNO), 44 Index 175

Tigrayan People’s Liberation Front (TPLF), 10 Uganda Times newspaper, 31, 36, 116–117 EPRDF and, 54–59 Ugandan Constitutional Commission (UCC), governance by, 22 109–110 guerrilla insurgency by, 25 United Ethiopian Democratic Forces (UEDF), ideology of, 43–47 86 struggle against Derg, 42 United Nations Agenda for Sustainable summary of, 152 Development, 2 Walta Information Centre, 68, 73 United States Information Service (USIS), 27 Tigrayan University Students’ Association (TUSA), universal Internet connectivity, 2 46 University Students’ African Revolutionary Front Times of London newspaper, 105 (USARF), 102 Tobiya newspaper, 67, 81–83 US National Security Agency (NSA), 94 Tomar newspaper, 80–82 trade liberalisation, 9 Voice of America, 18 Transition magazine, 32–33, 37 Voice of Namibia, 10 Transitional Charter (1991), 55 Voice of the Rebellion, 10 transnational networks, 28 Voice of the Revolution, 53 Truth and Reconciliation Commission, 78 Voice of Uganda newspaper, 34–36 Tsehaye, Abbay, 52–53 voter turn-out, 20 Tumukunde, Henry, 139 Turyamwijula, Jack, 116 Walta Information Centre, 68, 73 Twitter, 20, 126 Waqt newspaper, 81–82 Weekly Topic newspaper, 116, 128 Uganda. see also National Resistance Movement; WhatsApp, 20, 94, 126 single-party politics Wolde-Mariam, Yacob, 27 authoritarian politics and free expression, 19–21 woredas units, 56–57 economic growth rates, 4 Workers’ Party of Ethiopia (WPE), 79 elections in, 20 World Bank, 62, 115 freedom assessment, 5 Woyane revolt, 45–46 ideas, institutions and interests, 141–142 leadership impact, 7–14 Ye Seﬁw Hizb Dimts, 28 liberalisation of media, 145 Youth Associations, 93 media and, 21–23, 142–144, 146 Movement System, 3–4 Zenawi, Meles new technologies, 2 authoritarian leadership of, 21 overview of, 13–14 EPRDF reforms, 60–61 print media culture, 30–37 impact of, 41–43 support for news media, 20 MLLT and, 52 war involvement, 6 one-party rule, 62 Uganda Freedom Movement (UFM), 114 overview of, 3, 7–8 Uganda Herald, 30 political aims, 143 Uganda Media Centre, 125 TPLF and, 48–50, 53 Uganda National Congress (UNC), 31 ‘with us or against us’ approach, 79 Uganda National Liberation Army (UNLA), 107, Zimbabwe African National Union-Patriotic Front 114 (Zanu-PF), 101 Uganda People’s Congress (UPC), 129 Zimbabwe African People’s Union (ZAPU), 10 Uganda People’s Defence Force, 138 Zone 9 blogging collective, 16, 69–70, 95 Uganda Resistance News, 102, 104–106 Zuma, Jacob, 8