For a country with an unelected hereditary leader, there is a blunt irony in calling itself the Democratic Republic of Congo. This vast swath of Central Africa is many things — a failed state, a humanitarian crisis, a natural resource bounty — but a representative democracy it is not.
That may be about to change with Sunday’s vote — the first multi-party elections in 40 years. Diplomats say it is a historic opportunity to take advantage of relative peace, international support and the yearning of millions of people to make their voices heard.
Free and fair elections could usher in a president and a Parliament with the mandate to rebuild a country shattered by decades of misrule and a 1998-2003 war, which left more than four million dead.
Bungled elections, on the other hand, could install a regime tainted with allegations of vote-rigging. ”You might have a situation where the government is not seen as legitimate in all provinces or among all ethnic groups,” says Jason Stearns, of the International Crisis Group, a Brussels-based thinktank. ”This could create long-term problems of urban unrest or political crises.”
Much hinges on the independent electoral commission, the body created to manage the polls. Besides equipping and manning 50 000 polling stations across a broken land the size of western Europe, its main task is to be impartial.
At first sight the commission’s headquarters in Lubumbashi, the capital of Katanga province, is reassuring. It is a grand building, a sweep of white pillars leading to a celebration hall built by the Belgians in 1956. Inside, however, offices lack electricity and windows and voter rolls are heaped on the floor.
Francine Ilunga, a commission spokesperson, complains that her department had never been given a budget. ”It’s really impossible to do our job properly because of financial chaos. I use my own money to get things done.” A colleague laments that fuel shortages halted helicopter deliveries of election material.
Looming over the main hall hangs a wall-sized portrait of a familiar, chubby face: Laurent Kabila. The guerrilla-turned-president was assassinated in 2001 and the post passed to his son, Joseph. The young president is campaigning to keep his job, partly on the strength of his father’s reputation.
An impressive facade masking an organisational shambles tilted in favour of the incumbent. Will that be the story of Congo’s elections?
Not necessarily. With 25-million voters registered and a new Constitution endorsed in a referendum, the groundwork has been laid for legitimate polls. The transitional government, a coalition of former foes, has held together.
A multiplicity of candidates — 269 parties are registered — offers real choice.
The United Nation’s biggest peacekeeping force, 17 500 blue helmets, has been bolstered by more than 1 000 European troops to give muscle to the £235-million that international donors have invested in the elections.
Perhaps most significantly the Congolese people are enthusiastic. In cities and villages people proudly display registration cards, listen to radio news bulletins and debate the merits of rival candidates. Even Ngoyi Ilunda (30), just arrived in Likasi after a 210-mile barefoot trek to escape fighting in her village, is determined to participate. ”I have my card and I’ll use it,” she says.
But things could go badly wrong. A big loser from a free vote will be the Congolese Rally for Democracy, a once-mighty rebel-group-turned-political party. Deeply unpopular, it would have ample ability and motive to stir trouble if reduced to a marginal role.
The provinces bordering Rwanda and Uganda are tinderboxes. Ethnic tensions fester and militias have not been properly demobilised, warns Gerson Brandao of the UN’s office for the coordination of humanitarian affairs. There are reports of former fighters, frustrated by broken promises of cash and vocational training, returning to the bush.
”We have nothing. We risk becoming thieves or worse,” says Kabulo Kikanla (34), part of an angry crowd besieging the government agency responsible for integrating combatants into civilian life.
Other fighters are supposed to be absorbed into a new army but, of the 18 brigades, only six have been fully formed and even those have displayed an all too familiar gusto for abusing civilians.
Even if peaceful there is a risk the elections will be manipulated. The courts are too politicised to arbitrate disputes independently, party financing is murky and party meetings have been disrupted and dozens of activists arrested. The Catholic Church and several NGOs say they may not recognise the results owing to fraud and intimidation.
The International Crisis Group says: ”With few safeguards in place against fraud, rigged polls could rapidly undermine stability after the elections and produce unrest in cities.”
Some say the elections are little more than an expensive charade to legitimise President Kabila, who is widely expected to prevail against 32 other little-known candidates.
”We have the impression it’s a formality, that Kabila’s victory is pre-determined,” says Hubert Tshiswaka, head of a human rights group in Lubumbashi.
It is unclear to what extent the 34-year-old president controls his ruling cabal, which is accused of preferring personal enrichment to rebuilding the country. The fear is that Kabila will follow his vampire-like predecessors, Belgium’s King Leopold, the dictator Mobuto Sese-Seko and his own father, Laurent, in sucking out the natural resource wealth.
”If they try, we’ll kick him out. This is going to be a democracy with us, the people, in charge,” says Jacques Onusumba, selling oranges from a stall in Lubumbashi. ”Well, that’s the theory.” — Â