The conflict over Western Sahara can be described as a conflict over self-determination that has been frozen in the past three decades. Western Sahara is a territory in North-West Africa, bordered by Morocco in the north, Algeria and Mauritania in the east and the Atlantic Ocean to the west. A former Spanish colony, it has been listed by the UN since 1963 as one of the 17 remaining non-self-governing territories, but the only such territory without a registered administrating power.

Since becoming independent from France in 1956, Morocco has claimed sovereignty over Western Sahara and has since the late 1970s formally annexed around 80% of its territory, over which it exercises de facto control in contravention of the conclusions reached by the International Court of Justice (ICJ) in its advisory opinion of October 15, 1975, on this matter. The court indeed did not find any “legal ties of such a nature as might affect the application of resolution 1514 (XV) in the decolonization of Western Sahara and, in particular, of the principle of self-determination through the free and genuine expression of the will of the peoples of the Territory” (Western Sahara (1975), Advisory Opinion, I.C.J. Reports 1975, p.12).

On 14 November 1975, the Madrid Accords – formally the Declaration of Principles on Western Sahara – were signed between Spain, Morocco, and Mauritania setting the conditions under which Spain would withdraw from the territory and divide its administration between the two African states. Its paragraph two reads that “Spain shall immediately proceed to establish a temporary administration in the territory, in which Morocco and Mauritania shall participate in collaboration with the Jemâa [a tribal assembly established by Spain in May 1967 to serve as a local consultative link with the colonial administration], and to which the responsibilities and powers referred to in the preceding paragraph shall be transferred.”

Although it was never published on the Boletin Oficial del Estado [the official State journal where decrees and orders are published on a weekly basis], the accord was executed, and Mauritania and Morocco subsequently partitioned the territory in April 1976. Protocols to the Madrid Accords also allowed for the transfer of the Bou Craa phosphate mine and its infrastructure and for Spain to continue its involvement in the coastal fisheries.

Yet in Paragraph 6 of his 2002 advisory opinion, UN Deputy Secretary General Hans Corell, reaffirmed that the 1975 Madrid Agreement between Spain, Morocco, and Mauritania “did not transfer sovereignty over the Territory, nor did it confer upon any of the signatories the status of an administering Power, a status which Spain alone could not have unilaterally transferred.”

The war

The Popular Front for the Liberation of Saguia el-Hamra and Rio de Oro (POLISARIO) is the internationally recognised national liberation movement representing the indigenous people of Western Sahara. Through the self-proclaimed Sahrawi Arab Democratic Republic (SADR), it has been campaigning since its creation in May 1973 in favour of independence from Spain through a referendum on self-determination to be supervised by the UN. A war broke out shortly after Morocco and Mauritania’s invasion in November 1975. Spain officially withdrew from the territory on 26 February 1976 and the Sahrawi leadership proclaimed the establishment of the SADR the following day.

In 1984, the SADR was admitted as a full member of the Organisation of African Unity (now the African Union), resulting in Morocco’s decision to withdraw the same year in protest. Morocco would only (re)join the African Union (AU) in 2017. The admission of the SADR to the OAU consolidated the movement in favour of its recognition internationally, with 84 UN member states officially recognising the SADR.

In the meantime, to strengthen its colonization of the territory, Morocco had begun building what it later called “le mur de défense” (the defence wall). In August 1980, following the withdrawal of Mauritanian troops the previous year, Morocco sought to “secure” a part of the territory that Mauritania had occupied. Construction of the wall – or “berm” – was completed in 1987 with an eventual overall length of just under 2,500km.

A “coordination mission” was established in 1985 by the UN and the OAU with representatives dispatched to find a solution to the conflict between the two parties. After consultations, the joint OAU-UN mission drew up a proposal for settlement accepted by the two parties on 30 August 1988 and would later be detailed in the United Nations Secretary General’s (UNSG) report of 18 June 1990 and the UN Security Council (UNSC) resolution establishing United Nations Mission for the Referendum in Western Sahara (MINURSO).

Since 1979 and the surrender of Mauritania, around 80% of the territory has remained under Morocco’s military and administrative occupation.

Deployment of MINURSO

The Settlement Plan agreed to in principle between Morocco and POLISARIO in August 1988 was submitted to the UNSC on 12 July 1989 and approved in 1990. On 29 April 1991, the UNSC established MINURSO in resolution 690, the terms of reference for it being set out in the UNSG’s report of 19 April 1991. The plan provided for a cease-fire, followed by the organisation of a referendum of self-determination for which the people of Western Sahara had to choose between two options: integration with Morocco or plain and simple independence.

In this regard, it provided for the creation of an Identification Commission to resolve the issue of the eligibility ofSahrawi voters for the referendum, an issue which has since generated a great deal of tension between the two parties. A Technical Commission was created by mid-1989 to implement the Plan, with a schedule based on several phases and a deployment of UN observers following the proclamation of a ceasefire.

Talks quickly began to draw up a voters list amid great differences between the parties. POLISARIO maintained that the Spanish census of 1974 was the only valid basis, with 66,925 eligible adult electors, while Morocco demanded inclusion of all the inhabitants who, as settlers, continued to populate the occupied part of the territory as well as people from southern Morocco. It was decided that the 1974 Spanish census would serve as a basis, and the parties were to propose voters for inclusion on the grounds that they were omitted from the 1974 census.

In 1991, the first list was published with around 86,000 voters. However, the process of identifying voters would be obstructed in later years, mainly by Morocco which attempted to include as many Moroccan settlers as possible. The criteria for eligibility had sometimes been modified to accommodate Morocco’s demands and concerns. Up to 180,000 applications had been filed on the part of the Kingdom, the majority of which had been rejected by the UN Commission as they did not satisfy the criteria for eligibility.

Consequently, the proclamation of “D-Day”, to mark the beginning of a twelve-week transition period following the cease-fire leading to the referendum on self-determination, kept being postponed and eventually was never declared.

The impasse

Following the rejection by Morocco of the Peace Plan for Self-Determination of the People of Western Sahara (known as Baker Plan II) and the complete suspension of UN referendum preparation activities in 2003, Morocco’s proposal for autonomy of the territory under its sovereignty in 2007 crystallised the stalemate [the Peace Plan is contained in Annex II of UNSG report S/2003/565, and available here].

The Baker Plan II had envisioned a four or five-year transitional power-sharing period between an autonomous Western Sahara Authority and the Moroccan state before the organisation of a self-determination referendum during which the entire population of the territory could vote for the status of the territory – including an option for independence. It was ‘supported’ by the UNSC in resolution S/RES/1495 and reluctantly accepted by POLISARIO but rejected by Morocco.

The absence of human rights monitoring prerogatives for MINURSO has emerged as an issue for the people of Western Sahara as a result of the stalemate in the referendum process in the last two decades. MINURSO is the only post-Cold War peacekeeping operation to be deprived of such prerogatives.

Amongst the four operations currently deployed that are totally deprived of human rights monitoring components (UNFICYP in Northern Cyprus, UNIFIL in Lebanon, UNDOF in the Israeli-Syrian sector and MINURSO), MINURSO stands out as not having attained its purpose through the organisation of a referendum. In addition, among the missions that did organise referendums (namely UNTAG in Namibia and UNAMET in East Timor), all had some sort of human rights oversight mechanism stemming from their mandates.

On 8 November 2010, a protest camp established by Sahrawis near Laayoune (capital of Western Sahara) was dismantled by the Moroccan police. The camp had been set up a month earlier in protest at the ongoing discrimination, poverty, and human rights abuses against Sahrawis. When dismantling the camp, gross human rights violations were reported – see reports by Fédération internationale des ligues des droits de l’Homme (2011) and Amnesty International (2010).

This episode revived the international community’s interest in Western Sahara and therefore strengthened the demand by Sahrawi activists to “extend the mandate of MINURSO to monitor human rights” (see Irene Fernández-Molina, “Protests under Occupation: The Spring inside Western Sahara” in Mediterranean Politics, 20:2 (2015): 235–254).

Such an extension was close to being achieved in April 2013, when an UNSC resolution draft penned by the US unprecedentedly incorporated this element, although it was eventually taken out. This failed venture remains to date the most serious attempt to add human rights monitoring mechanisms to MINURSO. Supporters of this amendment to the mandate are facing the opposition by Moroccan officials who hold that it is not the raison d’être of the mission, and it could jeopardize the negotiation process.

What’s going on now?

At the time of writing, the people of Western Sahara are yet to express the country’s right to self-determination through popular consultation or any other means agreed between the parties. The conflict therefore remains unresolved since the ceasefire and has mostly been described as “frozen” by observers.

On the ground, resistance from Sahrawi activists remain very much active. Despite the risks of arbitrary arrest, repression or even torture, the Sahrawi people living under occupation have organised themselves to ensure their voices are heard and violations are reported. Freedom House in 2021 have, yet again, in its yearly report, rated Western Sahara as one of the worst countries in the world with regards to political rights and civil liberties.

Despite a clear deterioration of the peace process over the decades, several factors have signalled a renewed interest in this protracted conflict among key actors and observers from the international community. A Special Envoy of the AU Council Chairperson for Western Sahara (Joaquim Alberto Chissano from Mozambique) was appointed by the Peace and Security Council in June 2014. This was followed by Morocco becoming a member of the AU in January 2017.

More recently, major events have begun to de-crystalise the status quo. The war resumed on 13 November 2020 following almost 30 years of ceasefire. Additionally, for the first time, a UN member state – the US – recognised Morocco’s claim to sovereignty over the territory. Former US President Trump’s declaration on 10 December 2020 to that effect was made less than a month after the resumption of armed conflict. It has not, however, been renounced by the current Biden administration. As this recognition secured Morocco’s support for Israel as per the Abrahamic Accords, reversing Donald Trump’s decision would have wider geopolitical repercussions.

In September 2021, the General Court of the European Union (GCEU) issued decisions invalidating fisheries and trade agreements between Morocco and the EU insofar as they extended to Western Sahara, rejecting Morocco’s sovereignty. This decision is the latest episode of a legal battle taking place before the European courts.

The Court of Justice of the European Union (CJEU), had previously reaffirmed the legal status of Western Sahara as a non-self-governing territory, set by the UN in 1963 following the last report transmitted by Spain – as Administering Power – on Spanish Sahara under Article 73 of the UN Charter. The Court rejected in December 2016 any claims of sovereignty by Morocco by restating the distinct statuses of both territories.

The last colony in Africa remains largely under occupation and the UN mission in place is still deprived of any kind of human rights monitoring. In the meantime, the Kingdom of Morocco has been trading away peace in the form of military accords and trade partnerships. This situation must end – with freedom, and sovereignty finally won by Western Sahara.

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This article was first published by ROAPE.

​The period immediately following the 9th August general elections in Kenya was a rude awakening for many. In any contest where there’s only one winner, and so there the contrasting feelings of jubilation and disappointment are no surprise. What would shock a keen observer is the visceral negative reaction shock amongst a section of the supporters of the Azimio la Umoja side. The reaction went beyond disappointment; it was grief that quickly deteriorated into recriminations against any individual or group perceived not to have ‘given their all’ in support of Rt. Hon. Raila Odinga’s candidature.

This is Mr. Odinga’s fifth stab at the presidency, so the spectre of disappointing results is not totally new to his supporters, particularly those over 40 years old. Disappointment and even certain levels of anger have been de rigueur in past elections, but the inexplicable grief and recriminations have been unique to 2022. One unique feature of this year’s elections is that the narrative has portrayed those perceived not to have supported Raila not as competitors or rivals, but as evil saboteurs.

The result was a barrage of vitriolic abuse directed at Kikuyu people on social media, much of it written in Dholuo, which few Kikuyus can read or understand. We certainly hope that the Azimio running mate Martha Karua was somehow shielded from it because a significant proportion of the diatribe is sexist as well. However, those who are shocked and wondering just what happened in 2022 are deluded, because the question is guided by their powers of perception (or lack thereof) rather than by the sequence and consequence of events.

Faith in “The System”

The primitive and flawed history of our electoral structures certainly don’t provide any reason to believe otherwise. However, Kenya is also a nation founded on the dishonesty of colonialists, so we Kenyans still struggle to internalize the truths of political history, including those we have lived through and witnessed. The Luo nation is no exception to this rule, despite boasting several renowned historians and political scientists. The Luo nation has long lived with the well-founded belief that they (through the person of Raila Odinga) have been victims of electoral malpractice in the past.

When the much-vaunted ‘handshake’ between the Rt. Hon Odinga and former President Uhuru Kenyatta took place in 2018, the Luo nation greeted it with unbridled joy at the prospect that ‘one of us’ would finally ascend to the highest office in the land. It was almost comical to see the jubilation that greeted the symbolic launch of Kisumu port where Mr. Odinga was flown to Kisumu in a Kenya Defence Forces aircraft, a very potent (and deliberate) subliminal message, which they tried to actualize through the legally ill-advised “Building Bridges Initiative” (BBI).

In a conversation on the Maisha Kazini YouTube channel, we discussed at length how this project (which failed) was an attempt to entrench feudalism in our formal government structures. In a startling show of cognitive dissonance, the people who had fought so long for democracy and electoral justice mentally crowned Uhuru Kenyatta as a ‘King’ whose reign was ending and had magnanimously designated their leader as the crown prince. ODM leaders, notably Dr. Oburu Odinga crowed about the Uhuru’s endorsement and about the support of “the system” being a sure path to State House for Raila Odinga.

Sadly, this dissonance was so convincing that the people believed them, culminating in a toxic mix of relatively lackluster campaigns, while followers remained inexplicably assured of victory. The people who had steadfastly cast their votes for generations and fought for justice somehow discarded that legacy and internalized the belief that victory would be delivered by a combination of expected injustice and support from the alleged erstwhile perpetrators thereof. A mind-boggling conundrum by any measure.

It would be difficult for any mortal to derive reason from such a bizarre far-flung psychosocial situation, hence the extreme bitterness at the absence of a unanimous support for Mr. Odinga from Kikuyu voters (the decision of other Kenyan voters is not on the table). The Odinga supporters saw the failure of certain areas of Kikuyu land to support Odinga as a betrayal, and rather than recognize the significant number of votes that accrued from the Mt. Kenya region up from virtually nothing in 2017.

How can we explain this avalanche of opprobrium?

This reaction betrays the logic of the whiteness that is rooted in the coloniality of power in Kenya. Underlying the offence was the perception amongst the Luo proletariat that their Kikuyu counterparts had the temerity to reject the Luo liege, even after Odinga’s pact with his Kikuyu peer. Lack of attention to history blinded Odinga’s supporters, both in Luoland and the larger Kenyan intellectual class, to the fact that the Kikuyu proletariat did not view the handshake in the same way as the Luo voters did, nor did they relate to Uhuru the way the Luo did to Raila.

This oversight blinded them to the reality of the Mt. Kenya’s region’s rejection of Uhuru’s political machinations, as opposed to the rejection of Mr. Odinga himself. It was far from automatic that the Kikuyu would blindly follow Uhuru into the handshake. Mt. Kenya has had a fractured relationship with the Kenyattas from the very beginning. At independence, Jomo Kenyatta suppressed Mau Mau history and left Mau Mau veterans landless. Twice before, Uhuru Kenyatta had been rejected at the ballot by the Mt Kenya region: in 1997 when he contested as MP for Gatundu, and in 2002 when he contested to presidency. The rise of Uhuru’s acceptance in Mt Kenya was linked to the trauma of the violence against the Kikuyus in the Rift Valley following the botched elections of 2007, a violence which many Kikuyus attribute to Raila Odinga himself, since the violence stopped when Raila shook hands with Kibaki.

It was this trauma, and Raila’s perceived or actual responsibility in it, that Uhuru exploited in 2013 when he hired a British PR firm which rode on the ICC indictments to present Uhuru as an anti-imperialist freedom fighter. It was not tribal adoration that got Uhuru president, that is if he even won the vote. It was trauma, money and gas lighting by a heavy bureaucratic and intellectual artillery that later included the manipulation of social media by Cambridge Analytica.

The second issue that was overlooked was the anger of the Mt. Kenya region at the collapse of the economy. In his hubris, Uhuru failed to realize that huge infrastructural investments would not pacify ordinary people whose businesses were suffering as the Kenyatta empire grew. The milk industry, for example, is a case in point, where the Kenyatta family dominance in the milk industry was seen as the reason for the drop in the prices ordinary farmers were fetching for their milk. By the time Uhuru and Raila were proposing BBI, people in central Kenya, especially the youth, were saying they did not care for more power-sharing deals when they were not able to earn a living.

Coloniality and ethnicity

The failure to notice the cracks in the deal, due to casual attempt to merge political views of Mt. Kenya and Nyanza region, is linked to the fact that coloniality and whiteness manifested in completely different ways in the two regions. In Kikuyu land, coloniality was imposed through extreme violence, leading to the familiar stories of a society riven between the Mau Mau resistance and colonial collaboration. The Kikuyu have memories in form of living survivors and the trauma of the victims.

By contrast, coloniality in the greater Nyanza region, which included the Luhya regions of the northern Lake Victoria shores, was imposed by co-option through government bureaucracy, colonial education and conversion to Christianity. In Nyanza, there was no conventional rebellion warfare, and the only contact with the rebellion was in the person of the detainees imprisoned at Mageta island. And so coloniality was experienced as psychological more than material. The Africans who became the ‘whites’ were those who became educators, administrators, colonial apparatchiks and clergy. Their descendants still occupy high political offices and are much-admired personalities, such as outgoing governor Cornel Rasanga and Dr. Patrick Amoth of the Chief Amoth Owira family; Prof Peter Anyang Nyongo and the late Prof. Aggrey Nyong’o of the Canon Hesbon Nyong’o family; and the numerous political and business players across both Kenya and Uganda who are descendants of Canon Jeremiah Musungu Awori. Many songs praise men as ‘chal gi mzungu’. Many non-Luos may hear Luos refer to each other as ‘Odiero’ and think it is a very common name, but it is actually an honorific that means ‘white man.’

The only aberration in this historical link was brought about by the fallout between Jomo Kenyatta and Jaramogi and the consequent odium faced by the Odingas. This brought in the suffering narrative as an additional ingredient into Luo nobility. Up to the elections, the answer to any questions on Odinga’s leadership qualities invariably included references to how much he has suffered or sacrificed. With the passage of time and the monumental legal changes in Kenya, however, individual suffering was becoming a less “accessible” qualification, which placed Mr. Odinga on something of a pedestal. Others therefore could only seek distinction through the competence with which they served him and the conspicuous manner in which they displayed this service or consumed the proceeds thereof.  Philosophy scholar Joe Kobuthi recently identified this as a form of masculinity that is defined by conspicuous consumption, belying the casual humorous term ‘ujaluo’ used by less erudite people to describe it.

By contrast, whiteness in central Kenya was mostly defined by collaboration against the rebellion. The reward in Mt Kenya for collaboration was entry into government, and access to government contracts and title deeds as a way of climbing the social ladder. In central Kenya, people who pursue school education do not enjoy the same clout that is enjoyed by people with access to wealth. A prominent example was Prof Wangari Maathai who won the 2004 Nobel Prize but lost her parliamentary seat in the 2007 elections. Her international accolades did not win her a free pass to parliament.

Within this matrix, it was difficult to notice major forewarnings that the Odinga bargain was likely to collapse. In January 2021, news broke surrounding a leaked letter allegedly from then Murang’a Senator Irungu Kang’ata to president Kenyatta, which warned that BBI was deeply unpopular in Kikuyu areas. During this time, Babu Ayindo prophetically penned this tweet that escaped attention: “@RailaOdinga, I am prepared to believe that Sen. Irungu Kang’ata deliberately misaddressed that letter. Ja’kom, that letter is yours. Please read what the letter is saying and, more importantly, what the letter is saying without saying.”

Many observers will have noticed the lyrical sob stories that were circulating on social media following the initial announcement of the results, treating Mr. Odinga’s apparent loss like some kind of Greek tragedy. Those familiar with the strong African traditions surrounding death will be uncomfortable with the reference to a living person in language and tone more appropriate for mourning at a wake. It is an unexpected manifestation of ethnic chauvinism, because the personal grief stems from the belief that there was some kind of “queue” for leadership and the “white” Luo candidate was the next in line, having been ‘anointed’ by the sitting president. The usurping of this coronation by a ‘black’ candidate with no known lineage is anathema to all feudalists, including the oppressed vassals.

Such hubris was largely facilitated by Kenyan intellectuals in media, education and cultural spaces, who failed to do the work of unpacking political relationships beyond the usual narrative of tribal quirks. Yet underlying these tribal mathematics was the matrix with which the colonialists ascribed certain vocations to certain ethnic groups to protect colonial interests. For instance, because the colonial interests and African resistance in central Kenya centered on land, the British concocted an elaborate scheme called the Swynnerton plan, where the route to social mobility was joining government to help suppress the resistance, and after independence, getting access to government contracts through feudal networks.

This difference would also explain why the British and Americans would look at Jaramogi as a “communist” when Jaromogi’s flirting with the communist block was more about strategic political muscle against the US-supported Jomo Kenyatta, rather than a reflection of Jaramogi’s economic thinking. Jaramogi’s entrance into politics was on the back of the colonial restrictions on African trading and financial credit in Kisumu. He was therefore more of an indigenous capitalist than a communist. With his lack of direct experience with the land conflicts and colonial violence in central Kenya, it is also understandable that Jaramogi was adamant about the release of Jomo Kenyatta as a condition for independence discussions, while other Kikuyu politicians were more willing to negotiate with the British on their own while Jomo was in jail. After independence, it was Jaramogi who joined forces with Bildad Kaggia in advocating for fundamental land reforms that would give land to Mau Mau veterans, while the Kikuyu politicians – led by Jomo Kenyatta himself – enriched themselves in their newfound status as the new black settlers.

However, this collaboration failed to address the economic logic of the colonial Kenyan state, and the way it was intertwined with ethnic stereotypes. As such, the stereotypes of Kikuyu strength as that of business while Luo strength as that of academics, and similar prejudices about other Kenyan ethnic groups, continued to dominate Kenyan political life. In Kikuyu land, the Kenyatta family would stoke ethnic bigotry to claim unique rights of Kikuyus, and would use ritual, such as the cutting of Field Marshal Muthoni’s hair by Uhuru’s mother, Mrs. Ngina Kenyatta, as a spiritual tool to enforce Kikuyu compliance.

Other ethnic groups outside the two main protagonists are relegated to the stereotypes of witchcraft, docility, cultural stagnation and even terrorism, and rarely do Kenyans interrogate what these stereotypes mean politically. Often, the effect is reduced to that of numbers, but nobody questions why prominent national politicians like Kivutha Kibwana and Ekuru Aukot are often ridiculed for aspiring for the presidency. In many areas in Kenya, people cannot aspire for any office because they are denied identity cards in the name of not belonging one of the 45 or 46 tribes.

Watershed Moment

This election has therefore been a watershed moment, where the less obvious and more psychological implications of coloniality have been exposed, now that the legal and administrative hurdles associated with elections are decreasing in importance. This psychological dimension of coloniality was hidden from Kenyan politics through the use of ethnicity as a zero-sum narrative to explain Kenyan political life. The Kenyan intellectual class, especially in the media and the education system, covered up this decadence by rebranding tribal parochialism as the irredeemable nature of Africans, and by making hollow calls for Enlightenment style human rights. They therefore had no conceptual framework with which to understand the dynamic nature of Kenya’s politics and the importance of class and economics, especially since the promulgation of the 2010 constitution.

Hubris got us here. Not only the hubris of our nobles who felt entitled to choose leaders for us from amongst themselves, but also from the scholars who have excelled in law, history and political science, but choose to serve the nobles rather than apply the knowledge to our human conditions in situ. When our elite acquire journalistic and academic expertise which does not address what ails us, then we are stuck with “competents” as opposed to educated people. From now on, let us normalize ignoring any purported “expert” who cannot unpack this watershed moment for us. That failure should suggest to us that the “expert” is either part of the mess, or not courageous enough to help our nation move on from it. That’s the definition of deadwood, which can only slow down the growth of our society.

The glimmer of hope that came from the joint announcement by United States and European Union Special Envoys that negotiations to end the war on Tigray would begin, the siege lifted and humanitarian access fully granted, is now dimmed by the recent relapse to war. The many people who were sceptical about the start of the talks are not surprised by this resumption of the war that will consume many more young lives. Reports of killings of children in Mekelle through indiscriminate aerial bombardment and drone strikes add more setbacks to the commencement of negotiations.

A further hindrance has been the insistence that the African Union (AU) mediator, former Nigerian president Olusegun Obasanjo, remain involved in the process despite the reservations of a key party to the negotiations. In order to prevent further bloodshed, the honourable thing for former president Obasanjo to do is to resign.

The AU needs to avoid political wrangling with Tigray about keeping its mediator and instead focus on fast-tracking the appointment of a new envoy who has the approval of all parties, and begin negotiations on substantive politico-military agenda items.

As the war on Tigray approaches its second year, Ethiopian, Amhara, and Eritrean forces still control some areas of the region. Legitimately expected and essential public services such as ground and air transportation, electricity, telecommunications, banking services, and fuel deliveries, remain blocked. Humanitarian assistance has been reduced to a trickle despite the readiness of the UN and other agencies to supply aid. It would seem that the aim is to exterminate Tigrayans by starving them to death.

The continued lack of progress in implementing confidence and trust-building measures (primarily, an end to aid blockages, the lifting of the siege, the resumption of all public services and the withdrawal of forces from Tigrayan territory) has resulted in a dangerous waiting game. The statements by the envoys have become meaningless.

Without the lifting of the siege, it is highly likely that fighting will resume at the slightest provocation. This waiting game could constitute a “slow death” for Tigrayans – an abominable result that should be rejected. The relapse into military confrontation is disastrous for the long-suffering people of Tigray who have already gone through unimaginable suffering, for the people of Ethiopia and for any hope of peace in the Horn of Africa. Everyone, including the AU mediator, should be working tirelessly to avoid such an outcome.

It is important to note here that empires do not collapse overnight. What is at stake is nothing but the survival of the Ethiopian state, with dreadful implications for its 110 million population and for the Horn of Africa region. The AU Commission leaders knew about the war, the atrocities and Eritrea’s full involvement, but they remained silent and later provided tacit legal cover-up. The failure of African leaders to intervene rapidly and de-link an individual mediator from the process will render AU irrelevant in the resolution of the war on Tigray.

Why should Obasanjo resign? 

Mediation is only as effective as the political will and trust the parties invest in ending the conflict. The mediator is the guarantor of the parties’ trust in the process. According to the UN Guidance for Effective Mediation, the “acceptability of the mediator and the mediating entity” are critical factors in determining the success of the process. Mr Obasanjo neither inspires trust nor satisfies the other criteria of a mediator, as outlined by the UN.

The ‘non-rejectability’ test

The UN states that mediation is a voluntary process that requires the consent of the parties to the conflict to be effective. Without consent, it is unlikely that parties will negotiate in good faith or be committed to the mediation process. A mediator cannot be imposed on the parties to negotiation; he or she must get their unreserved consent before the appointment.  In other words, the choice of a mediator needs to pass the “non-rejectability” test.

Mr Obasanjo fails to pass this test, as Tigray has expressly rejected his role as mediator.

Impartiality, in appearance and in fact 

The UN further states that “impartiality is a cornerstone of mediation – if a mediation process is perceived to be biased, this can undermine meaningful progress to resolve the conflict”. 

Impartiality, both in fact and in appearance, is an essential requirement for a mediator. The principle of omni-partiality requires that the mediator is always on both sides of the negotiation to guide the parties to points of agreement and narrow areas of divergence. Thus, an accusation against, or even a reservation regarding the mediator’s impartiality by parties to the negotiation is a sufficient condition for the mediator to step aside. Whether the partiality is real or perceived does not matter, as reservations of this kind damage confidence in the mediator and undermine trust in the mediation process.

Several factors place the impartiality of Obasanjo in serious question. He was appointed by the leadership of the AU Commission, which has been accused of taking a partisan position on the war on Tigray. Furthermore, he served as head of the AU Election Observation Mission during the August 2020 elections in Ethiopia, which were denounced and boycotted by the Tigray government and other Ethiopian forces. Despite this, Obasanjo’s team judged the election to be free and fair, thereby endorsing the rejected polls.

“Impartiality is a cornerstone of mediation – if a mediation process is perceived to be biased, this can undermine meaningful progress to resolve the conflict”.

Moreover, once appointed as mediator, Mr Obasanjo failed to ensure impartiality, both in appearance and in fact. He has conducted official and publicly televised visits with the Prime Minister of Ethiopia, Abiy Ahmed, to areas and regarding issues that have nothing to do with the mediation. The aim of these visits has been to showcase the country’s “progress” and convey an aura of “stability” and “development” at a time when Ethiopia is facing its highest number of deaths and displacements yet due to conflict and starvation, with an economy that is in free fall.

In addition, reports indicate that Obasanjo enjoys unique access to the highest levels of the Ethiopian government – a privilege not granted to other diplomats. Obasanjo should have avoided the social and publicity events that show him to be overly close to one of the parties to the mediation. These visits have been perceived as illustrations of the “proximity of the High Representative to the Prime Minister of Ethiopia”.

Moreover, his efforts thus far have yielded no concrete outcomes. On the contrary, his pronouncements and actions have created even more confusion. In a BBC interview, Obasanjo backed a stance that makes lifting the siege and the humanitarian blockade a precondition for the start of negotiations – a position that the Ethiopian government believes is its only leverage over Tigray. Linking the provision of humanitarian aid to millions of civilians with peace negotiations is contrary to international human rights and humanitarian laws.

While the cardinal rule of a mediator is to objectively understand both the context and specificity of a conflict, Obasanjo is already armed with prescriptive templates that narrowly profile the resolutions of the conflicts in Ethiopia and, in particular, Tigray, Oromia, Gambella, Benishangul and Gumuz. Perhaps more concerning is Obasanjo’s recent brief to the AU’s Peace and Security Council. The report characterizes the armed conflicts in Ethiopia as “internal ethnic tensions in western Ethiopia; on and off tensions between Eritrea and the Tigray People’s Liberation Front (TPLF); recent deteriorating security situation between Ethiopia and Sudan over alleged skirmishes at the common border; reports of the arrest of suspects allegedly plotting terror attacks in Addis Ababa; and the attacks by al Shabaab in the Ferfer district of Ethiopia near the border with Somalia.”

While supporting the negotiations with Tigray, Obasanjo proposes “re-establishing strained intercommunal relations” to address armed conflicts in parts of the Oromia and Benishangul-Gumuz regions. Does this mean the armed conflicts outside Tigray could be dealt with within the current dialogue, and not through negotiations?

Obasanjo’s report dramatically underplays the war crimes, crimes against humanity, ethnic cleansing and genocide caused by the nationwide internal and war on Tigray, and grossly underreports their true human and economic costs. The internal wars within Ethiopia, the intervention by Eritrean armed forces, and the armed conflict with Sudan in the border areas and Al Shabaab in the Somali region have claimed hundreds of thousands of lives and displaced more than six million people. More than half a million lives have been lost in the war on Tigray.  Obasanjo has shown no genuine interest in the atrocities committed by Eritrea, accountability, and reparations for the victims of the war. His report fails to express empathy and demonstrate solidarity with victims of the war.

Obasanjo is already armed with prescriptive templates that narrowly profile the resolutions of the conflicts in Ethiopia.

After expressing doubts about the impartiality and integrity of Obasanjo and the lack of consultation regarding his appointment by the AU in the first letter written to the UN Security Council on 23 August 2021, the Tigrayan government announced that it would “only accept impartial and neutral mediators and not those that have displayed partiality towards the Government of Ethiopia. Those who endorsed the war on Tigray publicly or tacitly supported and attempted to bestow credibility to the sham elections conducted in June 2021 will not be accepted by the Government of Tigray”.

It further accused the AU of failing “to rise to the occasion when the war broke. They abandoned their core mandate of preventing the war when the Government of Tigray repeatedly appealed for their preventive diplomacy before and in the early stages of the war. The AU was proven incapable of pronouncing itself when combined Eritrean, Ethiopian, and Amhara forces aided by non-African forces invaded Tigray and committed atrocious crimes. The Government of Tigray is deeply disappointed by Mr Moussa Faki, AU Commission Chairperson, who even went further to endorse the genocide and war on Tigray officially. The Government of Tigray strongly believes that the AU cannot provide any solution to the war in Tigray, which it has officially endorsed”. It added that “the Government of Tigray reserves its right to reject any imposition of mediation without prior substantive consultations”.

In a recent open letter, the President of Tigray accused the AU of betraying the foundational principles of the Union. “The silence of the African Union over the war and the atrocities perpetrated by the forces ranged against us was a betrayal of the Foundational Principles of the Union. We have consistently condemned the failure of the African Union Chairperson and his High Representative to take a position consistent with their solemn obligations under the Constitutive Act of the Union, the Protocol establishing the Peace and Security Council, and a host of other commitments entered into. In the considered view of the People and Government of Tigray, the leadership of the African Union Commission has yet to redeem its failures and restore our trust.” This latest letter from the president was the final nail in the coffin of Obasanjo’s mediation role. Tigray has decided that Obasanjo is not impartial enough to mediate the war.

Possibly due to pressure from the regimes in Addis Ababa and Asmara, the Obasanjo brief recommends inviting Eritrea into the mediation effort, requesting the AU Commission “to extend a formal invitation to the Republic of Eritrea to join ongoing AU-led efforts aimed at finding lasting diplomatic solutions to the conflict between the Federal Government of Ethiopia and the TPLF”. The brief notes that “Eritrea has sided with Ethiopia in the conflict with TPLF,” significantly underreporting the role that Eritrea played and is still playing as an omnipotent foreign force in the war on Tigray. It then states that “realities continue to prove that brokering genuine peace between Addis Ababa and Mekelle requires the involvement of Asmara.”

The proposal reveals the inconsistencies of the AU’s position on the war on Tigray. Despite the presence of incontrovertible evidence since the beginning of the war, the AU has long maintained a policy of silence and turned a blind eye to the major role of the Eritrean armed forces in the war on Tigray and the ensuing atrocities. This policy of ignoring Eritrea’s destructive role in Ethiopia’s current conflicts is to be contrasted with the EU and US positions, which publicly confirmed the participation of Eritrean armed forces in the war on Tigray and called for their immediate withdrawal and for perpetrators to be held accountable. The US government went further to issue an executive order that sanctioned the Eritrean regime for the atrocities in Tigray.

Without mentioning Eritrea’s role in the war on Tigray, the reasons forwarded to justify its involvement in the mediation speak volumes about the AU’s inability to master the intricacies of Ethiopian, Tigrayan, and Eritrean relations, or to decipher where Obasanjo’s actual bias lies. What is more, if the AU were to endorse such a recommendation, it would fly in the face of everything the AU stands for.

The AU was proven incapable of pronouncing itself when combined Eritrean, Ethiopian, and Amhara forces aided by non-African forces invaded Tigray and committed atrocious crimes.

Furthermore, with the proposal to invite Eritrea into the negotiations, the AU mediation is entering a legal minefield. As with previous statements by the AU Commission, the Obasanjo report mentions nothing about the circumstances and legality of the Eritrean armed forces’ entry into the war, nor of the crucial role they played. While the Ethiopian government had not made an official statement inviting Eritrea’s intervention, Eritrea, along with the Amhara and Ethiopian forces, played a crucial part in the execution of the war on Tigray.

For many months, and despite a great deal of evidence to the contrary, the administration of Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed denied the participation of Eritrean soldiers in the conflict. Eritrea also vehemently denied its involvement. This suddenly changed on 23 March 2021, when the Prime Minister cautiously admitted before parliament that Eritrean forces had been in Tigray since the beginning of the conflict. Eritrea then followed suit. Both parties, by and large, hinted that Eritrea had sent its forces to Tigray in self-defence, without providing further details. These admissions did not clarify whether Ethiopia had invited the Eritrean forces into Tigray. What is clear, nonetheless, is that Ethiopia has never openly criticized the Eritrean intervention or the atrocities Eritrean forces have been accused of committing in Tigray, much less demanded that these forces leave Tigray. In addition, Eritrea still occupies certain areas of Tigray and is heavily deployed alongside the federal and Amhara forces in west Tigray.

In light of these developments, it is apparent that the Eritrean forces are working closely with the federal government forces. This has also been established by independent investigations, including by Human Rights Watch and Amnesty International, which showed that Ethiopian and Eritrean forces regularly conduct joint operations. Thus, the war on Tigray is not an international armed conflict where internationally recognized states use force against each other.

Eritrea’s involvement, as such, does not change the situation into that of international armed conflict, as it is helping the Ethiopian government and its allies.

Since Tigray is not an independent country, it has no business negotiating with any entity except the federal government of Ethiopia. The negotiation is an internal Ethiopian issue. Although this fact is easily overlooked, the negotiations will determine Tigray’s relations with Ethiopia, not (or only indirectly) with Eritrea. There is no legal basis to involve Eritrea in the mediation effort without the consent of the negotiating parties.

In addition to the legal, practical, and ethical considerations, on what political basis should Eritrea take part in mediations to resolve the causes of an internal war in Ethiopia?

The Eritrean, Ethiopian, and Amhara governments grew very close during the months before the war on Tigray. They have a shared antagonism towards Tigray and its government. The Ethiopian regime allowed Eritrean forces to kill, displace, destroy, and commit atrocities in Tigray. Eritrea has few allies – the Ethiopian and Amhara governments are the only two in the region – and it will sacrifice its own people to avoid losing these two newly made friends. The regime in Asmara thrives only in a region that is besieged with instability, not a peaceful one, let alone a successful one. The very mediation effort between Tigray and Ethiopia threatens the Eritrean regime. A successful peaceful resolution of the war between Tigray and Ethiopia has the potential to unravel the entirety of Eritrea’s regional influence after the end of the triumvirate Abiy–Isaias–Farmaajo security pact. Thus, Eritrea is the most significant threat to the mediation process.

The negotiations will, among others, look at Ethiopia’s relations with neighbouring countries bordering Tigray, including Eritrea and Sudan. The post-war future of Ethiopia will determine how Eritrea will interact with Tigray. That’s why Obasanjo’s suggestion to invite Eritrea to the negotiation table never boded well for Tigray. While Ethiopia may welcome this, for Tigray it is likely to be a non-starter. There is no reason why Eritrea should have the unique privilege of being invited to a negotiation process that will define Tigray’s relations with Ethiopia.

With the proposal to invite Eritrea into the negotiations, the AU mediation is entering a legal minefield.

The same Obasanjo brief mentions that “unresolved disputes between Ethiopia and Sudan over the Al-Fashaqa area remain a source of tension . . . with Ethiopia accusing its neighbour of harbouring elements of the TPLF in its territories”. Thus, in applying the same logic, one is forced to ask why Obasanjo did not propose to invite Sudan – which, according to the report, supports Tigray – to the mediation table. Why extend an invitation to Eritrea but not Sudan? With Eritrea, Sudan, and more countries at the table, the mediation will only become more complex and unlikely to bear any peace.

In mediation parlance, impartiality is often ensured by objectively answering the big question: has the mediator passed the non-rejectability test, which requires that parties to the conflict must unreservedly consent to the mediator’s role?  Is the mediator impartial? In principle and practice, a mediator’s credibility is beyond redemption once he/she is perceived as partisan by any of the parties to the conflict. This principle is not only informed by but also consistent with African mediation experience. Obasanjo himself has become an issue in this process, and he needs to recuse himself for the sake of peace in Ethiopia and the Horn of Africa. When the mediator’s impartiality comes into question, or even when a mediation effort lacks progress, or any of the conflicting parties refuse to cooperate, the long-standing practice is for the mediator to resign. The experiences of Said Dijinnit in the Burundi mediation, and Kofi Annan and Lakhdar Brahimi in the Syria process are instructive. Never before has a mediator insisted on staying put when one of the parties has opposed their participation. What explains Obasanjo’s unprecedented inclination to remain as a mediator contrary to established principles and practices?

What is to be done? 

As a mediator, Obasanjo’s impartiality has been questioned by one of the parties, and it is only natural that he should step aside. His resignation would help avoid unnecessary political wrangling, prevent forum shopping, fast-track the selection of new mediators, and commence the negotiation on substantive agenda items.

The AU has no legal or political basis for ignoring Tigray’s position and has no right – legal or political – for opposing the selection of a mutually agreeable mediator. The AU must prevent the current rhetoric from becoming a political handicap, rendering the body irrelevant to the resolution of the war on Tigray.

A new mediator needs to be appointed quickly with the consultation and consent of all parties.

Mediating such a war requires neutrality, impartiality, undivided attention, and freedom of action unencumbered by institutional and individual conflicts of interest. Thus, the full-time availability of the mediators is a prerequisite for the successful engagement of the parties. An additional prerequisite for a successful mediation is a deep understanding of the context of the war on Tigray, the crises in Ethiopia, and the situation in the Horn of Africa, a quality some of the potential mediators possess.

Negotiations also require enforcement mechanisms and punitive measures against spoilers and violators of agreements. These necessitate strong government backing by states with influence with both parties as guarantors of such a process.

So far, none of the parties has rejected Kenyan President Uhuru Kenyatta’s offer to lead the mediation. As an outgoing president he remains a viable option if the incoming government of Kenya, the AU, IGAD, and the UN were to support him. Given that he has been officially engaging the parties with the support of international actors, continuing what he has started would allow the smooth and speedy resumption of mediation.

A successful peaceful resolution of the war between Tigray and Ethiopia has the potential to unravel the entirety of Eritrea’s regional influence.

Given that state backing is crucial to any mediator’s success, political, diplomatic, and financial support for the office of the mediator, as well as the AU, IGAD, UN, EU, US and China is necessary. If for any reason President Uhuru is unable to take up the role, there are several other potential mediators that could be acceptable to and possess leverage with both parties and the international community. As is often the case, the US and EU may not explicitly show their preference on this and other matters related to the mediation to avoid being accused of undermining AU and African mediation efforts.

At the same time, to avoid competing and fragmented mediations, it is crucial to ensure that there is only a single mediation process. A consultative approach helps to avoid parallel initiatives and build confidence.