In fact electoral violence is on the rise in Africa. Despite more than 20 years of adopting democratic governance, democratic indicators are relatively unchanged over the course of 20 years, and electoral violence has a detrimental effect on citizens’ view of democracy.
Elections across sub-Saharan Africa are frequently accompanied by fears of electoral violence and shrill calls for peace from civil society, journalists, governments, and international actors.
These climates of fear and uncertainty are not only prevalent in countries that have long histories of contentious elections and political violence, but are increasingly being seen in places without such clear precedents. For example, recent elections in the diverse contexts of Malawi, Ghana, Sierra Leone, and Kenya have all raised concerns that the polls risked a descent into insecurity, violence, and chaos. There seems to be an increasingly pervasive narrative that any election in Africa can degenerate into violence.
One might be tempted to pose some questions such as where are these narratives coming from? Who sustains them? How are they being used? And with what implications for democracy? As an attempt to explore these questions, it is imperative to use some insightful analysis from various scholars notably, Professor Sarah Jenkins, who is a political scientist based at the University of Anglia in the United States of America.
In her analysis of 2015 elections in Kenya, recent polls in Zimbabwe and Uganda, she point out that despite their very different political histories and electoral experiences, in all three contexts incumbent regimes deliberately constructed, fostered, fuelled, and exacerbated the sense of threat in order to legitimise tactics that skewed the electoral playing field. In this case, the language of security and the politics of fear become important tools in the menu of electoral manipulation. She reasons that the language of security can be extremely powerful and that proponents of securitisation theory have argued that the very act of labeling something as a ‘security problem’ can make it one, and by successfully convincing others that there is a significant threat. Political elites are able to justify the use of extraordinary measures to counter that threat. She rightly posits that incumbent regimes are drawing upon these security logics in order to gain advantage in the polls.
It is very common in Africa that in the weeks, months and sometimes even years leading up to the election, key figures from within the state apparatus begin to make explicit, public declarations that the polls pose a threat to peace, and that they risk plunging the country into widespread violence. They simultaneously identify the opposition as the source of that threat, characterising them as hooligans and thugs intent on chaos, and claiming to have knowledge of their advanced plans for violence.
These efforts, Jenkins asserts, often reinforced by pervasive peace messaging, allow incumbent regimes to shift the narrative away from the importance of free and fair elections, to one where peace and order must be prioritised at all costs. In countries such as Uganda and Zimbabwe, these security logics facilitated similar strategies of manipulation. There is also the challenge of militarisation of elections. Firstly, and most visibly, security logics are used to justify a highly militarised electoral context, where heavily armed security actors patrol the streets sometimes even in armoured military vehicles ostensibly to ensure “peace”. Deployed disproportionately to opposition strongholds, however, this security presence is also, and arguably primarily, aimed at creating fear and intimidating opposition supporters. During the recent Uganda elections, images of police ‘riding in vehicles like rebel soldiers’ served as a highly symbolic performance of the state’s capacity for, and willingness to use, violence. Jenkins is spot on by stating that by deliberately fostering the idea that the elections pose a threat to peace and stability, incumbent regimes are able to convince many that this militarisation is necessary and, for some, even desirable. However, it has been proven that heavy police and military presence can heighten fears amongst opposition supporters, not only scaring some voters away from the polls entirely, but also serving to stifle political debate and participation more broadly.
Furthermore the language of security is used as a pretext for severe restrictions upon opposition campaigning and the freedom of assembly. The various iterations of Public Order legislation within some African countries are frequently invoked in a highly partisan manner in order to frustrate opposition activities. The police regularly deny or cancel permits and permissions for opposition rallies, sometimes at very short notice and opposition candidates are frequently arrested for public order offences and breaches of peace. This tactic was taken to extremes not only in the Ugandan elections, but also in Zimbabwe with a number of candidates being preventatively arrested for their potential to undermine peace and security. In the immediate aftermath of the polls, blanket bans on demonstrations, political rallies, and other forms of public meetings were also issued in the name of ensuring peace, preventing demonstration and political protest. Where events were deemed ‘unlawful’ and a threat to peace, the police commonly employed an excessive use of force to disperse the crowds. Through these measures, the state apparatus intimidate the opposition, to prevent opposition candidates from fully engaging with voters, and to deny citizens the right to peaceful demonstration and protest over the conduct of the polls.
The asserted need to maintain “security and peace” is also used to silence critics and stifle vibrant political debate. The incumbent regimes are in most cases highly sensitive to public criticism and figures from across civil society including candidates, journalists, and human rights activists who are harassed, arrested, and detained on the pretext of sedition or inciting disorder and violence. In addition, security concerns are cited as a justification for censoring stories that might cast the government in a negative light, banning live broadcasts that might feature critical voices, and restricting opposition candidates’ access to media exposure. According to Jenkins, these efforts to silence criticism are further extended to the repression of social media activities, either through the partisan use of legislation such as the Tanzanian Cybercrimes and Statistics Acts, which were invoked to arrest citizens for disseminating false or misleading information or through shutting down entire social media platforms due to unspecified threats to public order, as in Uganda. These activities all serve to curtail freedom of expression, which is a crucial component of free and fair elections and allow the incumbent regimes to maintain some control over the electoral narrative.
As a parting shot, Jenkins laments the fact that it is often thought that political elites will choose more clandestine practices of electoral manipulation due to the heavy reputational costs associated with it. However, security logics can provide a platform of legitimacy for tactics that significantly advantage the sitting government, and that nevertheless take place in plain sight. As long as key stakeholders continue to prioritise security over free and fair elections, the politics of fear will continue to form an important part of the toolkit of electoral malpractice.
