For four years, Nigeria's Nobel Prize-winning author Wole Soyinka roamed Western capitals, seeking support against military rule in Nigeria. His life was in danger several times, as agents of the late dictator, General Sani Abacha, tracked his footsteps in London, Rome, and New York. Thus, Abacha's death in June lifted a weight off his shoulders. The new military ruler, General Abdulsalami Abubakar, appeared to be a man of liberal principles who would not allow the machinery of the state to target such a gifted individual.

Sure enough, on a visit to the UN in September, Abubakar invited Soyinka and several other opposition leaders to meet with him. At the meeting, he personally asked Soyinka to return home. The writer didn't need much prodding. Nor did he disappoint those who know him and doubted he'd return with his political opinions sheathed in kid gloves.

His first port of call was the home of Chief Moshood Abiola, winner of the 1993 presidential election, who died in detention last July. Both Abiola and his wife Kudirat, who was murdered by Abacha agents in 1995, are buried at Abiola's home. Visiting their graves, Soyinka made a political statement. He was, in effect, criticizing Abubakar for failing to release Abiola, who had been denied proper medical treatment in detention, and letting him die.

But Soyinka's coup de grace was delivered at a lecture he gave at the Nigerian Law School in Lagos. "There is a raging fire in the minds of many of our citizens," he told his audience, "and we had better put it out before it leaps forth and consumes the nation." So sick is the body politic that even "fanatics of unity" have been driven to a point where they "virtually spit on the name, Nigeria."

Likening the current state of the country to a crumbling edifice, he said the dilapidation isn't caused merely by a faulty roof or cracks in the walls. It's the very foundations created by the British, who "cobbled" the nation together and "falsified" the census before they granted Nigeria independence in 1960. This enabled one region, the north, to monopolize power. With such a foundation, Soyinka asked, "Do we express astonishment when the building crumbles gradually or implodes suddenly on itself?"

Nigeria can only be salvaged by calling its people together for a national conference where they discuss their future interrelationships, he advised. The North is behaving like the stomach in a fable, which does no work itself yet sits at the center of the body and consumes everything the other parts produce. The government is over-centralized, he added, a situation causing demands for the creation of new states and local government areas.

"Some [demands] have been inscribed in blood and destruction," Soyinka recalled, "while others merely fester, erupting from time to time like neglected boils on the hidden parts of the body. Is it, or is it not, time for a concerted project that re-designs both the geographical and internal relationships of such contesting spaces?"

Speaking afterward to the Lagos Guardian, he was asked whether the national meeting he advocates would impede the program by which Abubakar's government intends to hand over power to a democratically-elected civilian government in May 1999. The conference and the program would run side-by-side, he explained. Decisions made at the conference would be made available to political parties taking part in the transitional program. In any case, he added, nothing should prohibit citizens aspiring to democracy from sitting together at any time to discuss political relationships.

Nevertheless, Soyinka's proposal is certainly a challenge to the Abubakar government. Even as he spoke, agitation for a more equitable sharing of the proceeds from the country's oil resources took a violent turn in the oil-producing areas of the Niger delta. In the oil town of Warri, for example, groups of Ijaw youths have armed themselves and are battling with their neighbors, the Itsikeris, over disputed, oil-rich lands. Several people have been killed and scores of houses have burned in recent clashes. The Ijaw fighters are also targeting the operations of large oil companies such as Shell and Chevron, whom they regard as co-conspirators with a government that cheats the people of a fair share of their resources while ruining their environment.

The government has sent troops to Warri, and has made it clear that it won't allow oil company operations to be impeded. But the usual knee-jerk reaction may not work this time, with discontent so widespread. Abubakar may therefore have no option but to listen to his Nobel Laureate. Certainly, he has nothing to lose if he decides, as Soyinka puts it, "Jaw-jaw is better than war-war."

Cameron Duodo, who edited Drum in West Africa, reports and writes plays in London.

In the aftermath of the nuclear tests in South Asia, the US State Department, CIA, and other agencies are scrambling to review South Africa’s multi-billion dollar armament industry, particularly its apartheid-era nuclear weapons program. "We are continually updating assessments," a CIA spokesman confirmed recently on the usual condition of anonymity. "But certain aspects are under increased scrutiny, and one of them is their nuclear capability."

In 1993, then South African Prime Minister F.W. De Klerk confirmed what had been an open secret. South Africa had the bomb - seven of the Hiroshima-style weapons to be precise. Manufactured by South African nuclear physicists at the Palindaba atomic complex near Pretoria despite anti-apartheid sanctions, the "Armageddon" devices were reputedly destroyed later that year.

"There were seven weapons and they were all destroyed following the end of the Cold War," De Klerk’s chief of staff Dave Steward announced in 1995, following press speculation that some were still in existence. "Production and test facilities at Palindaba were also rendered harmless."

Nevertheless, US intelligence agencies are now concerned about residual supplies of weapons grade uranium, as well as the nuclear battlefield shells that supposedly were also manufactured. Intelligence estimates put the total of bombs at 24 and the battlefield shells at close to 1000, some of which were moved up to the Angolan border in 1987 during the South African Defense Force (SADF) incursion into that country to support Jonas Savimbi’s rebel UNITA movement.

"With South Africa’s current crippling recession and porous borders, we have serious concerns about such residual materials," a National Security Agency (NSA) official confirmed when questioned about whether US spy satellites were targeting the region again. "Such material is worth millions of dollars on the black market and poses a serious problem if sold to pariah nations such as Syria or Iraq."

In September 1979, when South Africa tested its first nuclear device, developed under a joint program with Israeli scientists, the US Vela satellite orbiting over the Atlantic picked up a nuclear flash near Marion Island. This was finally confirmed in April 1997 by South African Deputy Foreign Minister Aziz Pahed, who was quoted in the Israeli daily Ha’aretz as saying, "There was definitely a nuclear test."

Questionable Alliances

Since the India/Pakistan wake-up call, the Clinton administration has been formulating a new policy to deal with second-tier nuclear nations such as South Africa, Iran, North Korea, and Argentina. One concern is the report, as yet unconfirmed, of a 1996 meeting between Iran’s Deputy Minister of Atomic Affairs Reza Amrollahi and the chief of South Africa’s Atomic Energy Corporation Dr. Waldo Stumpf. Purportedly, Iran submitted a list of items needed for manufacturing nuclear weapons. Existence of such a list has been denied by former Minister of Mineral Energy Affairs Pik Botha. But he did admit in August 1997 that peaceful applications of nuclear technology were discussed.

Cooperation between South Africa and Iran has worried the State Department for some time. And the 1996 meeting between President Nelson Mandela and then Iranian President Ali Akbar Rafsanjani didn’t help. Afterward, Rafsanjani stated: "Iran and South Africa will not allow the United States to determine our fate and our destiny." Coming soon after reports that Iran was recruiting South African nuclear scientists to work in their own nascent atomic energy program, Rafsanjani’s remark sent shock waves through CIA headquarters.

During his recent tour of Africa, President Clinton expressed concern about South Africa’s close relationship with Libya. In addition, the White House is less than pleased with Mandela’s resistance to US sanctions against both Iraq and Cuba. Foreign policy analysts speculate that, caught between the aspirations of a previously deprived population and a stringent recession, South Africa could opt to sell nuclear or other technology. That possibility may well have spurred Clinton’s vehement opposition to a $2 billion deal by South Africa to supply Syria with updated tank-cannon stabilizing equipment.

Getting Competitive

In the aftermath of the US failure to anticipate the Indian explosions, the Defense Intelligence Agency, the CIA’s Office of Scientific and Weapons Research, and its Office of Near Eastern and South Asia Analysis are taking another look at previously suspicious South African transactions. One such intriguing transaction came to light when Dr. Jan Lourens, a former apartheid government scientist, revealed to the South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission that the chemical company Delta G. Scientific had developed a mysterious substance called Red Mercury to act as a high energy catalyst capable of triggering nuclear fusion in the SADF’s nuclear artillery shells. Police investigations of the 1991 murder of Thor chemicals executive Alan Kidger, the 1993 bludgeoning death of chemical engineer Wynand Van Wyk, and the 1994 cyanide death of arms dealer Don Lange revealed that all three had been in contact with Delta G. Scientific in connection with this mysterious chemical.

Worries persist that something may still be going on among South Africa’s former nuclear weapons experts and the mysterious "Third Force." This shadowy organization, made up of ex-apartheid supporters, is known to include many of South Africa’s top military officers among its ranks and poses a destabilization threat to the Mandela government.

In the reassessment of South Africa’s nuclear intentions, the Clinton administration has woken up to South Africa’s competitiveness in the world’s armaments bazaar. Neither has it escaped the attention of defense companies that work hand-in-glove with the Pentagon. In a cash-rich and merger-frantic US economy, business analysts are already hinting at multi-billion dollar buyouts of South African arms manufacturers by US corporations seeking a foothold on the African continent. Not only would such purchases give them manufacturing divisions with third world experience, but also provide them with a supply capability exempt from stringent US export regulations.

South Africa has over 700 companies involved in producing arms for the global export market. They manufacture everything from jet aircraft to the R5 assault rifle. Accused of selling to questionable clients such as Lebanon, Yemen, Rwanda, the Congo, and even Yugoslavia, South African suppliers operate in a laissez-faire environment. Lanseria airport outside Johannesburg has practically no security or customs oversight. It’s an open secret that giant Russian cargo aircraft take off at dusk for unknown destinations with undocumented cargoes. This was driven home by the recent forcing down of a DC-4 carrying surplus SADF military trucks to the rebel Angolan UNITA movement.

"As long as it’s small arms it’s of no major concern," a CIA Africa/Asia Case Officer contends, "but in a shrinking home market such as the one South Africa is experiencing, how soon will it be before someone is prepared to bend the rules by supplying nuclear information and/or equipment? Besides which, bomb grade plutonium is a compact material that can be transported in a six-by-three-inch lead-lined container."

Economic Incentives

Although most of the atomic bombs and shells manufactured under the apartheid regime were sent to Israel, there have been persistent rumors that not all of them ended up there. At least one bomb and four tactical battlefield shells that haven’t yet been accounted for may not have been destroyed. "These would be worth a fortune to the wrong people," worries one private analyst working on the assessment.

"The arms business is a highly competitive and ruthless environment," contends Edward V. Badolato, the president of US Africon Inc., a security management company headquartered in Washington, DC. "And the democratically elected government of Nelson Mandela has found it difficult to forget the support that some questionable governments provided during the ANC’s long struggle for freedom."

Cementing US-South African business and diplomatic relationships is now a State Department priority. Clearly, South Africa can expect an economic windfall for its continued compliance with the Non-Proliferation Treaty. The US government will likely offer increased financial assistance for programs designed to speed up the Black community’s integration into South Africa’s economic sector, as well as soft loans to help ease the country’s severe recession. Many of these were already under discussion following Clinton’s April visit. However, speaking off the record, State Department experts say they expect South Africa to drive a hard bargain over further armament sales to Saudi Arabia, Algeria, and possibly even Iran.

India and Pakistan did more than just rock the nuclear boat with their tests in the Thar and Baluchistan deserts. Their "ill wind" has opened political opportunities for South Africa, a windfall for its burgeoning armament companies, and a future for Southern Africa’s uranium rich nations. All the government must do is resist pressure from old friends seeking Palindaba’s technical know-how.

But that doesn’t mean there’s nothing to worry about. The specter of an Armageddon scenario, caused by a rogue South African armaments dealer who hopes to make a quick buck by selling nuclear technology to a terrorist organization, is still very much with us.

Milan G. Vesely is a regular TF contributor.

Electric shocks, partial drowning, sleep depravation, and mental distress - torture comes in many forms. But increased exposure, modern communications, and the linking of development aid to a country's human rights record are forcing change as the century draws to a close.

In 1982, I experienced torture. Born and raised a Kenyan of European descent, I came face to face with the dark secrets that all Kenyans knew, but were cowed into enduring. The bludgeoning death of President Jomo Kenyatta's rebellious confidant J.J. Kariuki, the assassination of firebrand opposition leader Tom Mboya on Nairobi's Government Road, and the free-fall death from an army helicopter of Robert Ouko, President Moi's about-to-tell-all foreign minister, brought the message home.

In Kenya, detention without trial, systematic torture, and even death were - and still are - tools of corruption and stifling dissent.

A friend of Kenya's respected Attorney General Charles Njonjo and future opposition leader Kenneth Matiba, I was a successful Nairobi businessman. After an introduction to the newly-installed President Moi by Njonjo, I accepted a multi-million shilling purchase order, little realizing that the goods and work he requested were expected for free. The missionary-trained president had rallied support after Kenyatta's death through inspiring, anti-corruption slogans such as "Nyayo" (follow in my footsteps), and a promise of a new dawn free of unbridled nepotism.

A year later, following the delivery of various pleasure crafts and the building of marine facilities on his island in Lake Baringo, I pressed for payment on the long overdue amount. When no reaction was forthcoming, I reluctantly turned to the attorney general for help. Coerced by Njonjo, who was later charged with treason, the president had a personal check delivered by Njonjo's bodyguard.

My nightmare began.

"Torture comes in both mental
and physical forms. Of the two,
the mental is worse."

A victim

A 20-member gang climbed over my factory wall. Wielding pangas (machetes), they critically injured two of my guards and badly slashed two more. Severed limbs were a powerful warning. Working guard duty for me suddenly became a lousy job, even for tough Masaai warriors.

A more direct message followed. Raising a 30-pound boulder above his shoulders, an intruder screamed obscenities as he tried to smash in my sleeping wife's head at two in the morning. Memories of his rancid body odor still curl my nostrils today. Sluggish and sleep confused, but honed by jungle ambushes, my instincts kicked in. Rolling off the bed, I hit the floor. The old bush farmer's trick of suspending a shotgun on two pieces of twine under the mattress frame stopped the intruder dead. Who he was or how he'd gotten a key I never learned. Why? I already knew.

My turn came next. Vulnerable as I lifted my five-year-old son Ivan out of the car, only the machete's hiss gave the assassin away. Had he not paused for a split second to gather himself, it would have been all over. A severed ear and cheek, six pints of blood, deadened nerves, and over 300 stitches proved how close to success he came. Unable to leave the country, since our passports had been confiscated, my family and I could only hang on tight.

Adding pressure, my import licenses from the Central Bank for raw materials were mysteriously dropped. Without the necessary resins and fiberglass, production at my factory ground to a halt. Why this should happen for the first time in 10 years the stone-faced officials refused to say. After closing the factory, I was arrested and charged with stealing a police boat. Even as I was led away in shackles, it was moored at their jetty in Malindi on Kenya's scenic north coast. But facts didn't matter. Detention without trial was at the president's whim.

Incarcerated, tortured, and then subjected to three years of living hell under house arrest, the reality that human rights abuses were tools of corruption became vividly clear. The suffocating, water-saturated bag over my head, the searing burn from an electrical contraption with rusty serrated-jaw connectors, the lonely days - and even lonelier nights - in an excreta-smeared hole are hard to forget. Like acid-etched sketches, the sweat-breaking nightmares still haunt me. There was also the pain-inducing skills of the smallpox-scarred Gladys Mwakanjiru. Flashbacks of her foul breath remind me of the promises I made to tear her throat out should we ever meet again.

But torture takes both physical and mental forms. And of the two, the mental is worse. The death of my father, the gruesome presentation of his semi-charred remains in a shoe box, and twice weekly sessions in the barbed-wire enclosed secret police headquarters all played their part in my ordeal. Not knowing if I would ever return from those visits was almost as bad as the slash of the bamboo cane on my back.

Still, my experience was relatively mild. Today, the jagged V-shaped scar on the side of my face is the only visible reminder. I live in the US, where such atrocities are rare, though unfortunately they do still occasionally occur. Many in Africa are less fortunate.

Kenyan opposition leader Kenneth Matiba is semi-paralyzed from a stroke suffered in detention, and the Safina (The Ark) Party's founder Richard Leakey lost both legs in an aircraft accident now suspected as sabotage. The whipping Leakey received last year while supporting incarcerated Kenyan dissident Koigi wa Waweru couldn't have been much fun, either. Nairobi University student leader Solomon Muruli was less lucky. Roasted alive in March 1997, one week after he identified a senior police officer as one of those who abducted and tortured him in November 1996, he paid the ultimate price. Graphically reported in Time magazine, his dormitory immolation was a turning point in Kenya's struggle against torture and the repression of political dissent.

"Freedom of speech is the right of
individuals to state their views freely."

State Department spokesman James P. Rubin

As Africa prepares to enter the new millennium, human rights violations and political oppression are coming under increasing scrutiny. Such issues are now tied to foreign aid, inter-government relationships, and even travel visas for despotic government officials. No longer a dark secret, modern communications have focused a spotlight onto the use of such abhorrent practices, resulting in a perceptible change.

Despite dire government warnings, student riots and Kenya opposition party meetings are on the increase. Once exposed, the use of jail, beatings, and insidious torture lose their power to subdue. Instead, they become rallying points for wanainchi (African citizens) seeking a voice and democracy, steeling resolve rather than inspiring only fear and despair. "Look, you know going to prison is the destiny of every politician," 73-year-old Zambian ex-President Kenneth Kaunda said in February while being hauled away by President Chiluba's secret police. "But it's not going to stop people pressing for change."

There are also hopeful signs of official change. In Ghana, for instance, President Jerry Rawlings' government is recognized for its benevolent tolerance. Without a single political killing in 1997, it is held up as an example of democracy at work. Uganda's President Museveni, while insisting that a one party state is the only way to development, is also lauded. The March 4 censuring of Uganda's Education Minister Jim Muhwezi for abuse of office, influence peddling, and corruption will facilitate Uganda's approval for debt relief under the IMF's "Heavily Indebted Countries" foreign donor initiative. That this powerful ex-head of the Internal Security Organization was censured by his own parliamentary colleagues bodes well for Uganda's future. Surprisingly independent, Uganda's judiciary is also praised by the US State Department's Country Reports on Human Rights for 1997.

South Africa's Truth and Reconciliation Committee is an experiment other African countries should emulate. Chaired by Archbishop Desmond Tutu and charged by President Mandela to facilitate the healing process of a new, democratic South Africa, this powerful committee has shed light on the dirty secrets of torture, detention, and death perpetrated by both the Apartheid regime and the guerrilla ANC (African National Congress) organization. While shocking, the revelations shed light on how widespread such practices are. Mandela's decision to "air it all out" may well go down in history as the momentous watershed that turned Africa's citizens from passive acceptance of repression to active resistance for change.

"This too shall pass."

Pastors Thomas and Ngugi, Nairobi 1982

Of course, draconian abuse continues. Nigeria's execution of writer Ken Saro-Wiwa by President Sani Abacha's dictatorship, the banning of opposition leader Etienne Tshisekedi in the Congo, and the pick-handle beating of opposition supporters in Nairobi's Episcopal Cathedral by President Moi's police in October 1997 are graphic examples. For every one of these, however, there are corresponding examples of resistance.

Organized religion has emerged as a powerful force against repression in Africa. Long seen as passive bystanders, Catholic, Protestant, and Islamic leaders are now speaking out. In Kenya, the fiery Islamic Sheik Khalid Balala and the National Convention Assembly, an umbrella organization of clergy, civic, and human rights groups, are in the forefront of protest against Kenya's flawed December election. Such active involvement by organized clergy is a welcome development. The support of Pastor Thomas and Pastor Ngugi during my own ordeal was indispensable to my sanity ... and even my survival. Their prayers that "this too shall pass" kept me together. With organized religion's extensive grassroots influence throughout sub-Saharan countries now publicly aligned against repression, it will be harder for despotic rulers to carry out detentions without trial.

International human rights organizations are also more vocal. Amnesty International, Human Rights Watch, and the Catholic Caritas have local chapters throughout Africa. Abuses are meticulously documented and pressure is brought to bear on the US State Dept., Britain's Foreign and Commonwealth Office, and the Vatican. Of more importance, these organizations actively lobby to ensure that foreign aid is conditional on a country's human rights record.

The changes in Africa's judicial systems are momentous. Long considered puppets, the courts in Kenya, Congo, Zambia, and Zimbabwe are flexing their muscle. The future looks brighter still. Africa's rioting students will become the attorneys and judges of tomorrow. This alone guarantees increasing civil liberties. If an impartial judicial system had been available in 1982, my predicament would've been easier to protest.

And yet, will the elimination of human rights abuses ever come about? The answer to that question lies partly in understanding why torture is used. In my case, the main reason was revenge, along with a desire to seize my assets and send a message to my friends. Most important, the point was to set an example, a prime reason for many human rights abuses. Fortunately, it no longer works as well, due mainly to four main factors.

First, Africa's youth is leading the change. Facing a hopeless employment situation, they're challenging economic policies and corrupt practices. With more educated youths entering the workplace, it's less possible for despotic governments to shut them up by handing out minor government jobs. There simply aren't enough positions to go around.

External donor pressure is also a powerful inducement. The IMF's withholding of a $210 million loan to Kenya last November, and again this February, encouraged other donors to follow suit. Without this financial support, Kenya's infrastructure is collapsing and may eventually lead to the overthrow of the Moi government. Nigeria's despotic President Sani Abacha is only able to survive due to oil revenues generated through US multinationals, while in Zimbabwe, President Mugabe uses troops to quell rioting caused by basic commodity price increases.

The third element is churches, now a major factor in exposing human rights violations. Torture, incarceration, and physical abuse are only successful tools in a politically repressed society. Open criticism from the pulpit negates their usefulness. Open exhortations to resist, even more so.

Finally, there's free communication. In 1983, it was almost impossible for me to communicate with my family, by then in the US. Shaking off my secret police tail and using coded messages via public telephones was my only option. Today, the Internet and satellite phones make it almost impossible to censor contact with media organizations around the world. President Kabila's banishment of Congo opposition leader Etienne Tshisekedi to a remote village where the murderous Special Research Bureau restricts his movements is designed to minimize his influence. Jailing him would only make him a political martyr, resulting in increased external pressure, as Congo's previous dictator Mobutu Sesse Seko found out.

"Sixteen Ôcriminals' executed by
firing squad in Kinshasa"

Congo Ministry of Information announcement, February 1998

In a last gasp of resistance, despotic African rulers have turned to military tribunals. These are now the court of choice in the Congo, Nigeria, and Angola, where opposition figures are often convicted and sentenced to death by firing squad. In the short term, this can be effective. But such draconian measures inevitably lead to military coups. After all, soldiers are also family men, and sooner or later they too are affected - particularly in Africa, where tribal structures take the form of an extended family.

How can the international community influence change? Human rights violations are only effective when carried out in secrecy. Combining efforts, Amnesty International, Human Rights Watch, the Vatican, various religious organizations, the UN, the IMF, and donor countries such as the US, France, and Britain can make a difference. A combined ultimatum carries far more weight than sporadic protests by individual groups or government bodies.

The question is how to unite these diverse groups without the inevitable infighting.

In this regard, President Mandela's Truth and Reconciliation Commission points the way. It's time for the international community to set up its own World Truth and Reconciliation Committee. Africa demands it, and the world certainly needs it.

Should such a body ever be created, the predicaments of Solomon Muruli, Richard Leakey, and Etienne Tshisekedi would get instant attention. One coordinated organization that took up a case of abuse, investigated it, published findings, and pressured international financial organizations to cut aid and impose sanctions would be a potent force. As in South Africa, the offending government could also apologize, seek absolution, and sign an international pledge to desist. If such a commission is empowered to impose instant punitive sanctions and travel restrictions, change will come rapidly. And the many thousands of dissidents world-wide who are even now suffering in hell-holes will feel less alone if they know that the world really cares.

Only when the international community exercises its collective will to end the nightmare will the death and suffering of Solomon Muruli, Ken Saro-Wiwa, Etienne Tshisekedi, and South Africa's Steve Biko have real meaning. Only then will the children of Africa have real hope that the use of torture, incarceration, and human rights abuse as tools of power is really, and unequivocally, over.

Only then will my own screams in the night finally stop.

Milan G. Vesely is a regular TF contributor.

As the old colonial powers - Britain, France, Portugal, and Belgium - retreat from Africa, the US
is rushing in. Angola, Uganda, Ethiopia, Eritrea, the Democratic Republic of Congo, and even
obscure African countries are appearing on every Clinton official's itinerary. Does this diplomatic
frenzy support a coordinated US foreign policy agenda? Or, is it driven by less noble, even
colonialist economic objectives? Since the recent flurry of State Department attention was
preceded by the signing of questionable mineral, communications, and financial deals by
highly-leveraged US corporations, it's a fair question. US newspaper headlines trumpet the trend:
"American Mineral Fields Corporation of Arkansas in billion dollar mineral deal," "New
Millennium Investment, Inc. of Washington signs Congo telecommunications agreement," and "The
Leon Tempelsman & Son Investment Group proposes Angolan diamond operation." Grandiose
financial statements follow with almost frantic regularity. And most of the corporations making
these announcements have heavyweight lobbyists from both sides of the political aisle.

For example, Barrick Gold Corp., an influential Canadian-US mining conglomerate which recently
announced an 83,000-square-kilometer concession in Congo's Kivu province, has ex-Secretary
of State James Baker, Bush's old point man, on its advisory panel. Meanwhile, through Citizens
Energy International, Inc., the Kennedy family has interests in Continental Oil's Angolan oil
exploration projects, even though the area is a war zone. The Kennedy connection to Democratic
campaign contributor Maurice Tempelsman reportedly facilitated support for his company's
Angolan diamond proposal from State Department and former National Security Advisor Anthony
Lake. Lake instructed a senior deputy to call the US Export-Import Bank about possible
financing, even though this violates guidelines prohibiting the bank from guaranteeing import/export
financing to areas embroiled in civil unrest.

And, as if this pressure on the State Department to support certain African governments - be they
democratic or despotic - isn't enough, the US military is also a player. "African governments
recognize our military expertise," a Pentagon spokesman emphasized on conditions of anonymity,
when questioned about US training teams ensconced as permanent fixtures in Uganda, Rwanda,
Ethiopia, and half a dozen other African countries. US Special Forces also train 700-person rapid
deployment battalions in Uganda, Zimbabwe, and Ethiopia, ostensibly for "African peacekeeping"
duties. But the nature of their duties remains vaguely defined.

Military and political involvement is raising concern in some Washington quarters, however. Rep.
Ben Gilman, Chair of the Foreign Relations Committee, was sufficiently curious in July 1997 to ask
if the US military was training the Rwandan army in "counter-insurgency" in Gisenyi commune on
the Congo/Rwandan border, commonly called "the killing fields" by local Hutu refugees. The
army's answer: Only "humanitarian assistance" was involved. But the same words were used to
justify US involvement in Vietnam and early Soviet moves in the Afghan conflict.

With Madeleine Albright's seven-nation Africa trip in December, the Rev. Jesse Jackson's
appointment as President Clinton's special emissary, and Harold Wolpe's designation as the Great
Lakes envoy, many Africa observers are beginning to wonder if US engagement has sinister
overtones. "We are seeing a new colonialization in Africa," a World Bank official admits, "and it's
by American speculators with minimum cash/maximum profit ventures based on short-term,
low-risk exit plans. US political and military muscle is being used to facilitate the rape of Africa's
resources by American multinationals backed by both Democratic and Republican heavyweights."

Rev. Jackson's December speech in Nairobi did little to dispel this notion. "Africa's raw material
base is just exploding with potential," he explained at a US Embassy gathering, "whether it's new
oil finds in Angola and Gabon, or gold and diamonds, copper and uranium in Southern Africa."

So, what is the Clinton Administration's policy? Does the US fully grasp the potential pitfalls in
African countries where the odds of achieving democratic government are greater than their
peasant populations achieving a minimum per capital income of $150 a year? Unfortunately, the
answer is clouded by rhetoric. "The stakes are too high for us to stand aloof," UN Ambassador
Bill Richardson told the House International Relations Committee in November, following his visit
to the Congo, "and the United States is maintaining a policy of cautious engagement." He
elaborated: "But we have a range of other interests in the region and intend to encourage the new
African governments to undertake necessary political and economic reforms and to play a
constructive role in the region." Commenting on Albright's tour, State Department spokesperson
James Foley added, "The trip will focus on advancing US interests in the Great Lakes region,
justice and the rule of law, stability, and economic opportunity." "What justice and what rule of
law?" a cynical Red Cross official asks, surveying the burned-out hulk of a prison in Bulinga,
Rwanda, following a rebel Hutu attack on Dec. 4 that left 10 Tutsi dead. "And whose economic
interests?" wonders Arnold Bisasi, an opposition Uganda Freedom Movement spokesperson.
"That of Uganda, or that of American businessmen exploiting our raw material resources?"

Another question is whether US pressure and financial muscle will have a moderating impact on
governments that maintain power through corruption, terror, and subjugation of their populations.
Or this: Is it reasonable to expect that corporations will become responsible, nation-building
partners?

"It doubt it," says British Foreign and Commonwealth Affairs official Andrew Davidson. "After all,
the US tried it with Mobutu for 30 years, and look at how successful that was." As an
afterthought, he added: "We don't seem to have much better luck. Just look at how President Moi
of Kenya manipulated the elections, President Mugabe in Zimbabwe confiscates farmland, and
President Chiluba's Zambian police shoot at his rival ex-President Kenneth Kaunda, while our
own multinationals exploit East Africa's agricultural industries."

Ulrike Wilson, the IMF representative in Kampala, is more hopeful, describing Ugandan President
Museveni as "extremely pragmatic and forward-thinking." She points to economic liberalization, a
freewheeling press, and tolerance of opposition voices - if not opposition parties. Her argument is
that Uganda is a shining example of how the US and African countries can work together to
advance both democracy and economic growth. After years of decline under Idi Amin, a seven
percent growth rate in 1997 certainly provides some proof. South Africa's multi-racial progress is
also presented as evidence that international big business can promote Africa's democratic
progress. "Commerce and democracy are two sides of the same coin," quips an AT&T executive,
contemplating his company's burgeoning South African operations.

But as the US gets increasingly involved, policies and objectives remain less than clear. A
Carnegie Foundation researcher asks pointedly, "Is there a coherent US African policy, or is the
Administration being dragged into relationships with corrupt and volatile regimes by American
corporations seeking to exploit Africa's gold, diamond, oil, and copper resources?" Another fair
question when one considers the sudden involvement of business giants Bechtel, Goldman Sachs,
and the American Diamond Buyers group in the Congo and Angola. Military involvement is also
expanding without a clear objective. With staging bases in Mombasa and Addis Ababa, and
training missions in Rwanda, Ethiopia, Uganda, and elsewhere, the US may be forming a military
"Pax Afri-Americana." Even the admirable concept of training battalions to form an indigenous
peacekeeping force has no defined guidelines. Who will be in overall command? Will US or
African generals give the orders? What are the specific parameters for using this force? And who
will pay for any military adventurism? Thus far, such questions haven't been asked. "This
US-trained and -supplied force will be used to oppress indigenous opposition movements with
American hardware," charges Elly Kigozi, an opposition Uganda Federal Alliance military
commander, from his undisclosed location. "Congress can't really believe that the Ugandan
government will allow American generals to control its own battalions, can they? They can't be that
stupid, surely?"

More worrisome to US civil liberties groups is covert CIA involvement in destabilizing the Islamic
fundamentalist government of the Sudan. Involvement in the internal affairs of African nations raises
serious moral issues, argues Rev. Richard Rogers of the Southern Sudan Relief Committee. Over
$20 million has been spent on the pretext that the rogue Khartoum regime sponsors international
terrorism. Egyptian intelligence and Al-Sha'b newspaper report that up to 850 US military advisers
are training guerrillas for the SPLA (Sudanese Peoples Liberation Army) of rebel John Garang.
But US support seems to lack clear direction. "We're not against Islam," Garang said during a
December visit to Egypt, contradicting US policy. Meanwhile, General Omar Hassan Al-Bashir
maintains control, while the SPLA splinters into factions, some siding with Al-Bashir's
administration.

Economic sanctions are applied half-heartedly, mainly due to pressure from US corporations
dependent on the Sudan's gum Arabic exports for manufacturing. "Is this just another case of
corporate America driving foreign policy instead of the other way around?" asks a Lebanese
businessman, lamenting the demise of his diamond buying enterprise in the Congo.

Meanwhile, relief organizations are concerned by another trend: US oil and mining corporations
that hire mercenary protection forces. Tensions between the local black-clad "Cobra" militia in
Congo Brazzaville and ex-US military personnel guarding US oil facilities in Cabinda are already at
flash point. "This is bound to spill over into our operations," predicts relief worker Andrew
Edwards. "It's arrogant of them to have their own private armies on someone else's national
territory, and there seems to be no direction on this by the US government."

A Belgian diplomat is more blunt. "How long can this go on before a dozen US security officers
are killed?" he wonders, recalling the death of 30 Belgian paratroopers in Kigali, Rwanda, in
1994. "And what will the US administration's reaction be then?"

To many observers, this headlong plunge, driven by business and military pressure, forms a
dangerous mix. But others, such as Rev. Jackson, are more confident. "Africa has a lot to offer,
the United States has a lot to offer," he predicted before a meeting with Kenya's now re-elected
President Daniel arap Moi, "and the fact that we both have a lot to offer makes us want to be
good friends and mutually-beneficial trading partners." Whether that sentiment becomes reality
depends on at least three factors: corporate responsibility, a reduced US military presence, and a
strong, clearly defined African policy. At the moment, hopes are high, especially since Albright's
tour and the announcement that President Clinton plans to visit Africa this year.

During her Africa tour in December, Albright's announcement that Clinton's Partnership for
Economic Growth and Opportunity will provide a $90 million loan to develop new oil fields in
Angola was encouraging. But a subsequent statement, made during a visit to a Chevron oil drilling
platform, raised eyebrows. An additional $350 million from the US Export-Import Bank, she
explained, may only support the purchase of US equipment, a move suggesting that the State
Department is more interested in promoting US commercial interests than African self-reliance.
Compared with China's pending $150 million no-strings-attached grant to the Congo, the US
requirement raises the specter of colonial thinking.

"What is needed," muses another relief worker, who prefers to be unnamed, "is a clearly defined
US government policy dealing with African governments to ensure that the potpourri of American
big business, military adventurism, and interference in the internal affairs of African countries
doesn't clash with the peasant population's aspirations. Or else the consequences will be far
greater than in Somalia."

Kenya-born Milan Vesely is a freelance journalist and 60 Minutes consultant with 40 years of
military and business experience throughout Africa.