COUNTRIES AT THE CROSSROADS GOVERNANCE BLOG

Reform Lite Comes to Saudi Justice

On January 11, Saudia Arabia’s Shura Council approved the establishment of a public defender program that will appoint lawyers to indigent defendants at the state’s expense. This reform measure follows on the heels of a series of recent efforts geared towards advancing judicial reform through restructuring judicial institutions and introducting new programs and initiatives aimed at professionalizing the judicial sector. In February 2009, King Abdullah bin Abdul-Aziz passed amendments that appointed a new, less conservative chief of the Supreme Judicial Council (SJC) and formed a Supreme Court composed of nine heads of courts of appeals. Nevertheless, these reform efforts, while welcome, will not bring about the change necessary to uproot a judicial culture that systematically denies defendants’ rights due to its dependence on the arbitrary decision-making power of judges and high level government officials.

The kingdom’s efforts have been carried out as part of a judicial reform process announced by the government in October 2007 that sought to streamline and restructure the country’s ailing judicial system through a series of measures set out in 2007 amendments to the Law of the Judiciary and the Law of the Board of Grievances. These amendments set up specialized labor and commercial courts. They also moved to increase judicial independence by shifting the highest legal powers from the widely-disparaged SJC to a Supreme Court with the power to hear appeals and transferring the administrative authority to oversee the courts, judicial appointments, and matters of discipline and training from the Ministry for Justice to the SJC. A provision of the law granting the executive the power to interfere in the judiciary was also rescinded.  At this time, the government committed US$1.8 billion to build the specialized courts and implement training programs for the new court’s judicial officers.

This reform plan, while welcome, must be viewed in concert with the persistent injustices that plague the Saudi judiciary. Within the criminal justice system, defendants’ rights are consistently and systematically denied as a result of both deficiencies in Saudi law and the excessive power granted to Saudi judges. Extended pretrial detention is common, and defendants are frequently denied access to a lawyer and left in the dark about the charges against them. This is especially the case for Saudis detained on terrorism or political charges, who numbered 2,000 in 2009. Trial procedures are also severely flawed. Defendants do not enjoy the presumption of innocence and are often prevented from presenting evidence, while lawyers are occasionally barred from defending their clients in court.  Most alarmingly, Saudi Arabia lacks a penal code, which enables judges to determine criminality based on their own discretion, often in an inconsistent manner that is especially alarming considering the severe punishments that can accompany crimes. Saudi justice is predominantly based on a particularly strict interpretation of Sharia law, which provides for extreme punishments such as flogging, in addition to a body of “Basic Law,” which is subordinate to the authority of the king and the religious establishment.  Death sentences can be handed down by judges in cases involving rape, murder, offenses against God, and also those cases that the judge, in his own opinion, believes merit capital punishment. Meanwhile, members of the royal family enjoy almost complete impunity in both civil and criminal courts.

Given the incompatibility of the Saudi judicial framework with most international conceptions of due process protections, a systemic overhaul including codification of criminal law and the training of a new generation of judges would need to take place before the Saudi judicial system can truly be considered reformed. Technocratic changes are undoubtedly a salutary first step, but while new courts and training programs may serve to reduce judicial backlogs and modernize the system, they will fail to achieve real change if the prevailing judicial culture remains the same. Furthermore, the reform efforts focus only on civil courts, leaving the realm of criminal law, which is most in need of reform, untouched. The establishment of a public defender program will do slightly more to uphold the rule of law by safeguarding the rights of defendants. However, even if defendants now enjoy the right to be provided with a lawyer if unable to pay, this provides little guarantee that they will be granted a fair trial in a system where the personal opinions of the judges and the king prevail over codified, standardized justice. The new reforms will not deny the king his ability to influence and interfere in high-profile cases; he will also retain his authority to appoint the heads of the SJC and the Supreme Court, along with his power to reject the SJC’s recommendations for judicial appointments. Most importantly, he will remain the highest judicial authority in the land.

In some countries, technocratic reforms-often undertaken with donor assistance-mark an important first step, particularly when resources are extremely scarce or conflict has left judicial institutions in chaos. However, neither of these conditions applies to Saudi Arabia. Likewise, without political will to implement far-reaching changes, judicial reform often flounders or reaches a maximum level well below what’s necessary to achieve equality before the law. There is little indication that the necessary political will exists in Saudi Arabia to bring about such comprehensive change. Indeed, the fact that the implementation of even technocratic reforms efforts, which have been announced several times since 2005, has lagged serves as evidence that deeper shifts remain in the distant future. Finally, in societies like Saudi Arabia with more entrenched judicial norms, transforming judicial culture is a wrenching process. For now, average Saudi citizens and others caught up in the country’s judicial net can only hope that, however slowly, the wheels of reform in the kingdom are finally beginning to turn.

Ruling By Law

Photo Credit: Flickr user Iaihiu

What do Liu Xiaobo, Tran Anh Kim, Evgeny Zhovtis, Emin Milli, and Adnan Hajizade have in common?

All are democratic reformers seeking to advance greater democratic accountability in their countries. In 2009, all were on the receiving end of harsh prison sentences—products of contrived and non-transparent legal proceedings—designed to silence them.

The plight of these modern-day dissidents is troubling, given the ruthlessness and unjust nature of their treatment. These cases are even more disturbing, however, because they fit into a broader pattern of “rule by law” visible in findings from Freedom in the World, Freedom House’s annual analysis of political rights and civil liberties. Influential authoritarian states, including China, Vietnam, Kazakhstan and Azerbaijan (whose citizens are cited above), as well as other repressive regimes like those in Russia and Iran, in recent years have pursued increasingly illiberal policies that have played a critical role in the global setback to democratic accountability.

The countries at the forefront of this surge of illiberalism are strikingly diverse culturally, geographically, economically, and ideologically. China sets the standard for authoritarian capitalism, with rapid economic growth sustaining single-party rule. Vietnam applies a similar approach. Kazakhstan, Azerbaijan, and Russia are post-Soviet petrostates, where governing cliques divide spoils from oil and gas windfalls. Iran, a clerical authoritarian system, is in the throes of political upheaval where the authorities are resorting to depredations—including mass arrests, show trials and unspeakable violence against its own citizens—few could envision before the country’s rigged elections last June.

But for all of their differences, what these regimes have in common is a priority of maintaining absolute political power. They are systematically fine tuning methods of “rule by law,” rather than rule of law, raising serious questions about the prospects for these countries with ever deepening ties to the international economy to create accountable, rules-based systems.

Consider the cases of the dissidents:

On December 25, Liu Xiaobo, a respected literary figure and human rights activist, was convicted of “inciting subversion of state power” and sentenced to 11 years in prison.  Liu had been held in secret by the Chinese authorities since December 8, 2008, for helping write Charter 08, a document advocating for democratic rights and the rule of law. His lawyers were given less than two weeks to prepare their defense. His trial, closed to the public, lasted two hours.

On December 28, Tran Anh Kim, a former army officer who pushed for democratic reforms, was convicted in Vietnam of “subversion.” He was sentenced to five and a half years in prison following a court hearing that began in the morning and was over by the same afternoon. Kim’s is the first in a series of prosecutions of pro-democracy and human-rights activists, including prominent human-rights lawyer Le Cong Dinh, who was charged with subversion in December and could face the death penalty for allegedly attempting to undermine the state by supporting democratic freedoms.

In Kazakhstan, leading human rights activist Evgeny Zhovtis was sentenced to four years in prison for vehicular manslaughter on September 3 in a legal proceeding fraught with irregularities. The Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe (OSCE), among other international organizations expressing doubts about the case, raised concerns about “numerous violations of Zhovtis’ right to a fair trial.”

And in what the outgoing head of the OSCE’s media freedom arm Miklos Haraszti described as a set-up in Azerbaijan, video bloggers Emin Milli, 30, and Adnan Hajizade, 26, in November received jail sentences of two-and-a-half and two years, respectively, for “hooliganism” following an altercation in a restaurant that occurred in July. The charges undoubtedly stem from an online video satirizing Azerbaijan’s government the bloggers posted shortly before their arrest.

So why are these cases important?  While it may be tempting to view the dissidents’ treatment in isolation, it has wider implications for advancing democratic accountability.  In these authoritarian settings their fate is intertwined with citizens’ broader aspirations for reform. By silencing them, the regimes are sending a clear message to others who might agitate for more systematic political change.

This pattern of abuse is also of a piece with broader institutional crackdowns on democratic accountability.  China’s leadership for example is building a 21st century, market-based censorship model that includes a multilayered system of internet monitoring and filtering and also targeting human rights lawyers.  Last July the authorities shut down the respected Open Constitution Initiative, a group of public interest lawyers known for defending the victims of China’s tainted milk scandal.

More ominously, emboldened authoritarian regimes are not checking illiberal behavior at their borders but are increasingly inclined to project it outward.

China is pursuing its censorship ambitions internationally, in democratic and authoritarian settings alike, seeking to repress voices critical of the Chinese government at conferences, in academic settings and in news media. China’s internet control methods, at the vanguard of new media subversion, are drawn on by other authoritarian regimes. Kazakhstan, ranked Not Free in Freedom in the World, has just taken over the chairmanship of the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe.

In the end, the treatment of these dissidents is not simply directed at the individuals involved, but clearly signals these regimes’ allergy to democratic governance and rule of law.

Leaders, Governance, and Approval in Latin America

On December 11, Latinobarometro released the findings of its most recent poll of public opinion in Latin America. As the annual Economist article summarizing the findings details, the survey’s overarching findings are optimistic, especially where support for democracy is concerned. In fact, authors report that “despite the [Honduran] coup d’etat and despite the 2009 [economic] crisis, Latin America is more democratic after the 2009 crisis, is more tolerant, is happier….The reforms that have taken place in the region are beginning to bear fruit, as this strengthening of democracy in spite of the crisis is a positive symptom.” That said, not all Latin Americans are content with their country’s political and economic climate. Government approval ratings in the region range between 25 and 85 percent. Of the countries included in the Countries at the Crossroads survey, the governments of presidents Luiz Inacio Lula da Silva of Brazil, Mauricio Funes of Salvador, and Alvaro Uribe of Colombia receive the highest approval ratings with scores of 84, 83, and 72 percent, respectively. On the low end of the spectrum, the governments of Cristina Fernandez de Kirchner of Argentina, Alan Garcia of Peru, and Daniel Ortega of Nicaragua receive the worst approval ratings, with scores of 25, 26, and 37, percent respectively.  These wide-ranging scores provide an opportunity to look at some factors separating the more contented democracy situations from the shakier ones, particularly in reference to their governance record.

In Brazil, the sky-high 85 percent approval rating received by Lula’s government is most directly linked to his successful economic policies, which have fostered economic growth while simultaneously improving income distribution and poverty levels. The rating is also linked to his adept management of the economic crisis. According to Latinobarometro data, only 22 percent of Brazilians considered the economic situation to be bad, 18 points lower than the regional average, and 75 percent of Brazilians approved of the way Lula was managing the economic crisis. Social programs such as bolsa familia have convinced Brazilians that Lula governs for the good of the people: 42 percent of Brazilians polled in the survey believe that the government rules for the good of all Brazilians rather than an elite minority, giving Brazil the 6th highest score in this category. That said, Brazilians are not entirely content with all of Lula’s governance practices. 34 percent of Brazilians reported personally experiencing corruption in the last year, the highest percentage in the region. And Brazilians remain conscious of certain problematic social realities: 26 percent said they had been the victim of discrimination, the second highest figure in the region.

In El Salvador, the Funes administration receives an 83 percent approval rating largely due to the fact that it is still enjoying a post-election “honeymoon period.” Funes’ March 2009 election victory represents the left’s first triumph in the country and the first alternation of power following 20 years of rule by the right-wing ARENA party. As such, his presidency symbolizes change, and Salvadorans still hope that he will fulfill campaign promises to alleviate poverty and combat corruption. Furthermore, Funes has already made some demonstrable efforts to push this agenda forward. For example, he announced the Anti-Crisis Plan, which set out steps to address the economic crisis and increase public services to citizens. These positive preliminary steps are reflected in the survey reponses. 62 percent of Salvadorans approve of the way Funes is managing the crisis, and 44 percent of Salvadorans are satisfied with the economy, the second highest percentage in the entire region. In terms of good governance practices, Salvadorans are most impressed with the government’s anticorruption efforts; 49 percent of Salvadorans believe that the government has progressed in its anticorruption efforts, 10 points above the regional average. Whether these numbers can be sustained in the post-honeymoon period remains to be seen, of course.

In Colombia, the Uribe government’s still-lofty approval rating hinges on security achievements. As noted in a previous blog post, Uribe has chalked up some notable successes in his campaign against the FARC, overseen the demobilization of thousands of paramilitaries, and attempted to set a justice and peace process in motion, all of which combined to help bring the homicide rate down to 33 per 100,000 inhabitants in 2008, the lowest rate in 30 years. That said, security advancements have been less impressive of late. Advances against the FARC have been slower (the most shocking example being the recent kidnapping and killing of Governor Luis Francisco Cuellar), the justice and peace process has lagged, and urban crime has risen, all of which have caused the government’s approval rating to slip from 75 percent to 72 percent in Latinobarometro’s survey. Nevertheless, Colombians are content with some other governance practices. Notably, 48 percent of Colombians believe that the government has made headway in its anticorruption efforts. That said, two terms of Uribe, along with the looming possibility of a third reelection bid, may have possibly diminished Colombians’ belief in the possibility of positive electoral change, as evidenced by the fact that only 57 percent of Colombians believe that their vote has the power to make things different in the future and only 26 percent consider their elections to be clean.

On the other end of the spectrum, the most obvious reasons that Nicaragua’s Ortega government receives a low 37 percent approval rating are related to the president’s highly polarizing (and to many observers, increasingly authoritarian) tendencies and the fact that he was never that popular to begin with – only 38 percent of Nicaraguans cast their vote for him in 2006. Ortega has shown little indication of believing in pluralism. As noted in a previous post, the government has targeted civil society groups, attacked critical media, and manipulated electoral laws in order to strengthen his grip over the country. Nicaraguans generally consider Ortega to be a leader who rules for his own good rather than the good of the people. Indeed, only 26 percent of Nicaraguans believe that the government rules for the good of all rather than a select few, and only 13 percent consider Nicaragua to be a strong democracy.  In addition, Nicaraguans do not see that Ortega has taken any real steps towards addressing any of the country’s main governance problems. For example, only 31 percent believe that the government has made progress in its battle against corruption. 15 percent of the population, second only to Honduras, think that Nicaragua will never be a developed country, while Nicaraguans responded most pessimistically of all on a scale of how far they see their children as advancing economically.

The 26 percent approval rating received by the Garcia government in Peru is largely linked to the persistent socioeconomic problems that lead Peruvian presidents to usually suffer low approval ratings. While Garcia has represented Peru as a country making great economic strides, pointing to the country’s improved economic performance in recent years, average Peruvians remain discontented. The Latinobarometro data reveals that only 10 percent of Peruvians believe that the distribution of wealth in their country is just. More broadly, average Peruvians believe that they are being left out of both economic progress and political life and decision making in their country. Only 15 percent of Peruvians believe that the Garcia government rules for the good of all rather than for the good of the powerful elite, and only 9 percent of Peruvians view their country as a strong democracy. The country also perceives the highest levels of discrimination in the region, evidence of the deep social disconnects between different groups of citizens within the country.

Finally, the bleak 25 percent approval rating received by Argentina’s Fernandez de Kirchner regime results from an amalgam of factors related to both economic mismanagement and poor governance practices. Under her watch, inflation has soared and the economy has slowed. 57 percent of Argentines believe that the economic situation is bad, and only 8 percent of Argentines are satisfied with the economy, the lowest percentage in the region. Where governance practices are concerned, Argentines perceive Fernandez de Kirchner’s handling of the country’s corruption problem to be especially lackluster. Only 13 percent of Argentine’s believe that the government is making progress in its fight against corruption, easily the lowest score received by any country in the survey, and a remarkably low 7 percent believe that the country’s powerful operate for the good of all.

There is no specific takeaway from these numbers, which are dependent on a variety of factors specific to different countries. The Funes phenomenon points to the power of change as a catalyst for optimism, while Lula and Uribe can both point to concrete achievements that have resulted in increased stability – economically, in Brazil’s case, and in security, for Colombia. It is notable that perceptions in both of the latter two coincide strongly with international perceptions, while one of the other supposed success stories in international coverage, Garcia’s Peru, lags far behind in the survey findings. This speaks to the risk of portraying GDP growth as a proxy for “progress.” Moreover, all three of the laggards described above, Peru, Nicaragua, and Argentina, have witnessed tumultuous political events—including, in all three, presidents formally prosecuted for corruption—in recent years. The damage this has done to trust in the political class will likely take both significant time and an overhaul of the current political elites to change.

Are Civilian Rights Being Protected in Latin America's Security Struggle?

Photo Credit: Flickr user Andrea Farias

A flurry of new reports has shed light upon potentially serious security sector abuses in several Latin American countries. Human rights organizations and media outlets have recently condemned severe human rights violations being committed by state police, police-linked vigilante groups, and the military in Brazil, Peru, and Mexico. While security force abuses are sadly nothing new in Latin America, these three states have in recent years escaped the notoriety of Colombia, Venezuela, and Guatemala, among others, as places rife with such abuses. However, in each case the facts are grim.

In Brazil, an alarming Human Rights Watch report chronicles police killings in Rio de Janeiro and Sao Paulo states.  According to the report, over 11,000 people have been killed by police in those two states since 2003. In 2008 alone, there were 1,137 “resistance killings,” or killings committed supposedly in self-defense, recorded in Rio de Janeiro state. Human Rights Watch details substantial evidence that a large portion of these “resistance killings” were in fact extrajudicial executions covered up by the police. Police officers also commit abuses through their off-duty involvement with the country’s many death squads and militias, which are known for their ruthlessness. Where police abuses are concerned, impunity remains the norm. The public security challenge faced by police forces in Brazil is inarguably a difficult one; in 2008, there were more than 10,000 victims of intentional homicide in Rio de Janeiro and Sao Paulo combined, and violent crimes committed by drug traffickers and criminal gangs often include high-powered weapons. However, the use of lethal force against civilians is governed by rules that must be respected. Moreover, legal and moral problems aside, high levels of police killings only exacerbate and complicate Brazil’s security crisis. Thus far, the government response to the killings has been inadequate. For a country whose economic gains have received such acclaim, this type of publicity is unwelcome. Whether the government responds defensively or, instead, takes determined action to end such abuses will be revealing in terms of the country’s attitude toward the rule of law.

In the case of Peru, police violence has also surfaced as a polemical issue. The possible existence of a death squad operating in Trujillo, along with a possible police cover-up of the story, made headlines immediately after the story of the supposed human fat-harvesting gang operating in the Amazon surfaced and gained broad international exposure. However, once the public and the media realized that an article detailing a series of executions allegedly committed by a police death squad in Trujillo was published in Poder at the same time that the fat-harvesting story made headlines, the government, and especially the Interior Ministry, was bombarded with accusations that the outlandish story about the fat-thieves was meant to serve as a cover-up of the death squad report.

In the Poder article, Ricardo Uceda contends that police executed 46 criminals in Trujillo during 2007-2008, allegedly in a systematic attempt to rid the city of miscreants. Uceda notes that “during the investigation for this article, which included confidential conversations with active and retired police…versions of the story that a policy of social cleansing had begun to be conceived by the police of Trujillo were picked up by then [2006], although no one provided evidence.”  The police responsible for the deaths are reputed to belong to a death squad led by Colonel Elidio Espinoza, the Leader of the East Emergency Squadron. As is the case in Brazil, the police officially reported that all these killings were committed in self-defense. Uceda writes that “in a typical case of the official version, the members of a police patrol-by coincidence or through a third-party tip- surprise and assault two or more thieves. The thieves flee, shooting at the police, who then…. kill them.  Subsequently, ballistic tests show that the delinquents were armed and that their arms were fired.” Such an account absolves the police from responsibility under Legislative Decree 982, which came into force in July 2007. The Public Ministry has investigated each of these recorded police killings, but archived the 21 cases it considered last year and decided to bring indictments against police in only 2 of the 16 files it is processing this year. This scandal serves as another reminder that the professionalization of Peru’s police force and justice system remains stagnant, a charge that rights groups have been leveling for years. The police and justice systems are simply not adequate to the task of handling crime and social conflict, as the Bagua incident also revealed. Unfortunately, the instinct of top officials seems to denial of the problems or postponement of comprehensive solutions.

Finally, a recent Amnesty International report brings attention to egregious human rights abuses being committed by the Mexican military. According to Amnesty, the military has carried out numerous acts of forced disappearance, torture, extrajudicial killings, and arbitrary detention against civilians since being deployed to stop violence by drug traffickers. The number of abuses has increased drastically since 2007, coinciding with a major surge in violent crime (15,000 drug murders have been reported since December 2006), and Calderon’s increasingly aggressive offensive against drug trafficking networks. In 2008, Mexico’s National Human Rights Commission (CNDH) received 1,230 complaints against the Ministry of Defense—a huge increase from the 367 in 2007.

The situation is especially alarming in Tijuana and Ciudad Juarez. Since the beginning of 2009, at least 44 people have allegedly been arbitrarily detained and tortured by the military in Tijuana. The practice of arresting before investigating and charging, known as arraigo, has become the norm, along with the torture of detainees, which now “forms part of a generalized practice…a general rule as to how the authorities are operating….” In Ciudad Juarez, cases of military assassinations, forced disappearance, and torture abound. According to CNDH president Raul Plascencia, the number of criminal acts committed by the military at the U.S. border has tripled since last year, and the State Commission for Human Rights in Chihuahua and the Municipal Office for Complaints received a total of 725 denunciations from January-September 2009. In cases of military human rights abuses, impunity is endemic, and the government response to this situation has been almost nonexistent. No state officer has been punished for abuses committed in Juarez, and Mexico’s judicial shortfalls, which are especially dire within the military justice system, are further complicated by the climate of insecurity faced by the victims and their families, who are constantly threatened and intimidated by military officials. All levels of government have shown little willingness to devote the necessary time and resources to investigate this problem and to constrain the excessive power and jurisdiction of the military. Mexican officials have even gone so far as to blame the people of Juarez for fueling the problem by creating the opening for organized crime in the first place.

There is no doubt that Brazil, Peru, and Mexico face daunting public security challenges, but these challenges can never negate the responsibility of the security forces to protect civilians from abuses.  Two of these countries – Mexico and Brazil – see themselves as leaders of the region and the developing world, while Peru presents itself as a rapidly emerging nation. But with increased attention to positive developments will come higher expectations in all spheres, as well as attention to less flattering social issues. No one expects that progress will be easy, but demonstration that security force abuses will not be tolerated is as good a place as any to prove that these governments are acting in good faith and the interests of all their citizens.

Former Army Chief Poses Surprising Challenge in Upcoming Sri Lankan Elections

Photo Credit: flickr user foto.rajith

On Sunday, General Sarath Fonseka, the former chief of Sri Lanka’s army, officially announced his candidacy for the country’s presidency, challenging current President Mahinda Rajapaksa, General Fonseka’s wartime partner. Referring to the current president as a “tin-pot dictator,” Fonseka in his announcement promised to “scrap the executive presidency within six months, hold parliamentary elections and adopt a new constitution that will uphold democracy, social justice and media freedoms.” With these words, Fonseka has presented an unexpected and potentially viable competition in the January 26th elections.

The contest will be held in a political climate dominated by the end, last May, of the decades-long war between the government and the separatist Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE – commonly called the Tamil Tigers) – a war which intensified greatly after Rajapaksa came to power in 2005. By stepping up the campaign, Rajapaksa managed to defeat the rebel group and kill almost all of its leaders. The war’s conclusion, however, was accompanied by a large increase in human rights abuses and persistent allegations that the president was becoming more authoritarian, including by stifling dissent and condoning violent attacks against his opponents. His administration’s attitude toward freedom of the press has worsened from an already less-than-laudable situation: the state dominates the media sector, using highly restrictive slander and libel laws to prevent media criticism of public officials and failing to protect journalists from harassment, intimidation, and, increasingly, physical attacks.

Additionally, as Fonseka implied in his announcement, during his tenure as president Rajapaksa has centralized considerable power in the hands of him and his brothers. Though Sri Lanka’s constitution, which is modeled on the French constitution, does not outline a clear division of power between the three branches of government, Rajapaksa has created an executive branch with much more sweeping powers than its predecessors. His brothers hold major government posts, and effectively most controls over decision making and public spending are in Rajapaksa’s and his brothers’ hands. Rajapaksa has ignored Supreme Court rulings, usurped the powers of the constitutional council, and directly appointed loyalists to important posts in the Supreme Court, the Court of Appeals, and the police force. In his announcement on Sunday, Fonseka indicated that he intends to limit executive rule.

Rajapaksa has also failed to address the Tamil grievances that contributed to the strength and duration of the Tigers’ insurgency. In order to unify the country in the postwar era, analysts argue that the Sri Lankan government must go beyond freeing Tamils from camps for the internally displaced and take more long-term steps, like repealing the 1979 Prevention of Terrorism Act, which allows for the detention of LTTE suspects without legal representation or safeguards, or establish a truth and reconciliation commission to investigate the final weeks of the war.

Fonseka is not without his own potential vulnerabilities on rights questions; indeed, critics protest that his military strategy killed thousands of civilians. However, although he is perceived as sympathetic to nationalist groups, in his speech Fonseka attempted to undermine the president’s populist appeal by condemning the poor conditions of the displaced persons camps in which tens of thousands of Tamils remain, promising to shift more power from the presidency to the parliament, and accusing Rajapaksa of failing to bring together the country after the war’s end. By bringing the grievances of the Tamils to the forefront, Fonseka may be able to gain an advantage among voters who fear the insurgency will return should Tamil grievances remain unaddressed.

At the same time, even though Fonseka provides a glimmer of hope for the Sri Lankan opposition, President Rajapaksa perceives that the defeat of the LTTE will carry him through another election, as long as the balloting happens soon. While the elections were scheduled for November 2011, Rajapaksa signed a decree last month to hold elections in January 2010 in order to maximize political gains from his current popularity. The majority of his support comes from the Sinhalese-dominated south, where, according to the Washington Post, army families sang songs calling him king following the victory over the Tigers. However, dissent against Rajapaksa exists—thousands of protesters marched in November, pointing to encroaching dictatorship, increasing corruption, and a sinking economy.

Though Fonseka’s announcement on Sunday was the first time he formally announced his candidacy, his potential challenge was no secret. Like the president, Fonseka has the victory of the civil war to count on. According to the New York Times, Fonseka’s wartime strategy struck “a mortal blow” to the Tamil army. And his retirement from his post in November, more than a month before the end of his term, prompted rampant rumors that the general would compete in next year’s elections. His letter announcing his retirement to President Rajapaksa was not greeted warmly; though Fonseka requested to retire on December 1st, Rajapaksa said Fonseka could pack his bags and be out two days later, minus his security detail and official residence. The pair’s relations had been strained since the end of the war, when Rajapaksa placed Fonseka in a largely ceremonial post, leading Fonseka to accuse Rajapaska of sidelining him and suspecting him of plotting a coup.

Fonseka appears to have a substantial following, providing a surprising dose of choice in a country that is often seen as subject to increasingly personalized rule. According to the Washington Post, Fonseka’s Facebook page is covered in messages of “adulation,” including a mock billboard that bore a striking resemblance to the famous Barack Obama “Hope” poster. When rumors arose that Fonseka would appear on the ballot, the country’s other political forces sprouted up to claim him for their own. Former prime minister Ranil Wickremesinghe’s United National Party (UNP) hinted that Fonseka would be their candidate, and urged the Janatha Vimuthi Peramuna (JVP) and the Tamil National Alliance (TNA) to support the UNP’s bid. However, the JVP wants Fonseka for itself, and the TNA has not declared their support for the general. As a party that was once seen as a proxy for the Tamil Tigers, they have a history of antipathy toward Fonseka, even having once deployed a suicide bomber to assassinate him.

Signs indicate that Fonseka will not win without a fight, but Rajapaksa already appears nervous. In a particularly lurid manifestation of this insecurity, the president had the nation’s most popular astrologer jailed for nine days this summer for being a threat to national security after the astrologer predicted that Rajapaksa would be kicked out of office or killed. Moreover, after Fonseka criticized the “appalling conditions” of the camps and hinted that he would focus on the treatment of those living there, the Sri Lankan government freed hundreds of thousands of Tamils on December 1. Knowing that even a relatively small Tamil turnout could swing the vote in January, this could be a calculated step on the part of Rajapaksa to attract some of those votes, or at least defuse the issue as a political hot button. Either way, the future of Sri Lankan politics now looks more unpredictable than was anticipated just a few short months ago.

Frelimo secures major victory in Mozambican elections

Photo credit: Flickr user ComSec

Frelimo, the political party that has ruled Mozambique since the country became independent in 1975, scored a victory of unprecedented magnitude in the country’s October 28 presidential election. Frelimo has won every national election since the 1992 peace agreement, this time garnering 75 percent of the vote, in contrast to its main rival, Renamo, which took a mere 16.5 percent. While the victory was unambiguous, it enlarges already instilled fears about growing single party rule in Mozambique. 

With this result, Armando Guebuza, the incumbent president and one of the country’s wealthiest businessmen, surpassed his 2004 triumph over Renamo leader Afonso Dhaklama, when Guebuza gained 63.7 percent of the vote to Dhaklama’s 31.7 percent. According to the New York Times, Frelimo officials anticipated a dramatic victory, with the party spokesman claiming that the Frelimo was “really just competing with ourselves; our aim is to win by a margin greater than in the past.” The opposition party is challenging the election’s legitimacy. Warning of an impending “people’s revolt,” Dhaklama held a session on Thursday to discuss the party’s future and argued that the meeting must decide “whether Renamo will manage to survive as a political force in [Mozambique]; whether democracy will survive, or has ended with the October elections; or whether Renamo, as the force which brought about this democracy will have to launch a demonstration in protest against all that happened on 28 October.”

The history of rivalry between these competing political parties is decades long and marked by brutal violence. From 1975 to 1992, Frelimo and Renamo were the primary two warring armies in one of Africa’s most bloody civil wars (the country’s main north-south road is still adorned with ruined schools and burnt-out health clinics) and they became parties only after 1992. Today, however, what really raises eyebrows in not the competition between the two factions, but the lack thereof. With each additional Frelimo victory, Renamo sinks further; with no viable threat from a third party, only Frelimo is left to fill the vacuum. 

This year’s elections were marred long before Mozambicans went to the polls. In September, the country’s Frelimo-dominated National Election Commission (NEC) announced that because of inadequate paperwork, the newly formed Mozambique Democratic Movement could not compete in most of the country’s voting constituencies. Its creator, Daviz Simango, the mayor of Beira (and the only non-Frelimo mayor in Mozambique), was able to compete as one of three presidential candidates, but the NEC’s decision left MDM only able to win, at most, around a dozen of the 250 seats in parliament. 

While international observers reported no electoral irregularities that would have a significant effect on the results, some flaws were reported. The EU Election Observation Mission noted that officers refused to accept complaints from monitors of the political parties. Renamo is rejecting the results of the elections, accusing Frelimo of stuffing ballots and other acts of electoral fraud. The electoral commission acknowledged that workers at polling stations intentionally marked ballots with ink to invalidate them. And the Mozambican Public Integrity Center and the Association of European Parliamentarians for Africa revealed in their analysis that the commission also excluded more than 100,000 ballots. That said, considering the 58.5 percent margin, the irregularities were not nearly enough to change the outcome of the election. Similar observations were made in the country’s 2004 contest, with observers noting ballot-box stuffing, politicization of the NEC, and lack of transparency. Though highly critical of the country’s electoral conduct, the Mozambique Constitutional Council still accepted the election results.

Mozambique is not the only Countries at the Crossroads state in Africa where the prospect of single party rule seems to be looming ever closer. As discussed in an earlier post on this blog, the African National Congress’s overwhelming control of South Africa’s executive and legislative branches lends itself to the cultivation of corruption, as accountability mechanisms are rendered ineffective. Growing single party rule also affects Tanzania, where state officials favor the ruling party. While all political parties must gain permission from the police to hold rallies, for example, the ruling CCM party appears to hold rallies where and when it pleases, even as opposition parties have trouble securing permission. Moreover, Angola, perhaps the country with a history most similar to that of Mozambique, is a premier exemplar of the perils of single party dominance.

Growing single party rule is not just a threat to democracy on its own terms; rather, it has far reaching consequences for other governance spheres, often exacerbating both grand and petty corruption, unfair campaign finance practices, and inequitable rules on freedom of assembly. Although Frelimo’s victory at the polls is unlikely to be seriously challenged or reversed, the election flaws are not without consequence. Mozambique is the world’s ninth poorest country, with a per capita income of US$770 in 2008, and is highly dependent on foreign aid. The country has drawn in investment and donations as a result of its market-oriented policies and rich mineral resources, and has been seen as a “darling of foreign donors.” But those very donors have expressed disappointment in Frelimo’s electoral behavior.

With Parliament almost entirely under the control of Frelimo, and an entrenched culture of political influence in the judiciary, Guebuza’s actions are likely to be left unchecked by the country’s other political institutions. In the absence of such checks and without any viable challenge at the ballot box, democracy and the foreign aid upon which Mozambique is highly dependent are at risk.

Colombia Faces Hard Realities on Security and Justice

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Colombian President Alvaro Uribe’s immense popularity stems directly from his notable security achievements. Since winning the presidency in 2002, Uribe aimed to address the country’s endemic violence through a policy he has labeled “Democratic Security.” Uribe and the military’s hard-line stance (strongly backed by the US) against the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia (FARC), a left-wing guerrilla group that has waged a brutal insurgency since the 1960s, has achieved measurable results. Since the launching of the offensive, the FARC have been pushed out of major cities and deep into the countryside, several top leaders have been killed, and the size of the group has been cut in half. The military efforts culminated in a number of high-profile successes in 2008 that caused Uribe’s approval ratings to soar to 84 percent. Top FARC commanders Raul Reyes, Ivan Rios, and paramount leader Manuel Marulanda died due to attacks or medical conditions, and in July, Colombian commandos tricked the FARC into handing over 15 hostages including Ingrid Betancourt, a well-known French-Colombian politician. As a result of these efforts, the security climate improved dramatically as the number of homicides plummeted and kidnappings declined. In 2008, Colombia’s homicide rate dropped to 33 per 100,000 inhabitants, its lowest rate in 30 years. The dramatic decrease in urban violence was especially important in terms of improving both the national self-image and international perceptions of Colombia.

In addition to the intensified campaign against the FARC, Uribe attempted to decrease violence by demobilizing, reintegrating, and prosecuting the country’s paramilitary forces, officially known as the United Self-Defense Forces of Colombia (AUC). This process began in July 2005 with the enactment of the Justice and Peace Law, which set out guidelines for the demobilization of the paramilitaries in exchange for concessions. The original law met with national and international opposition due to its overly conciliatory approach towards the paramilitaries who had committed grave human rights crimes against the Colombian population. Colombia’s Constitutional Court amended the law in May 2006, and the revised version improved the rights of the victims by allowing them to participate in legal proceedings, requires that paramilitary members fully confess their crimes, and requires that seized assets, including stolen land, be used to recompense victims.  In its current form, the law provides rank-and-file AUC members the opportunity to reenter Colombian society and receive judicial amnesty in exchange for laying down their arms. In addition, it offers reduced prison sentences of up to eight years to paramilitary leaders in exchange for turning in their weapons, confessing their crimes, and offering reparations to the victims. Thus far the process has achieved the demobilization of 32,000 paramilitaries, and confessions have enabled authorities to recover 2,666 bodies from hidden graves. 

While Democratic Security can point to real achievements, stagnation appears to have set in, and backsliding is a real risk in both the offensive against the FARC and the Justice and Peace process. Military gains against the FARC insurgency have been much slower in 2009. Since Marulanda’s death, the FARC has reinvigorated itself in rural areas, and the Colombian army has failed to capture or kill any additional top guerrilla leaders in 2009. In addition, although Uribe has dedicated the past four years of his presidency to the demobilization of the country’s paramilitary forces, the country has yet to be rid of this scourge. Instead, reintegrated paramilitary members have continued to commit numerous violent acts. In addition, new illegal armed groups have sprung up in the place of the demobilized AUC. Most of these groups have direct ties either to groups that were formerly under the control of leaders now extradited to the United States or the various drug trafficking organizations operating in the country. As a result, 2009 has seen a spike in violence and crime. Homicides in Medellin have doubled since 2008, with more than 1,500 murders reported since January. The surge of crime in the city is linked to new conflicts and turf wars between narcotraffickers, ex-paramilitaries, and criminal gangs. In addition to ordinary civilians, human rights defenders have become especially at risk for violent attacks, especially in the northern areas of the country where paramilitary influence began and reached its greatest depths. Most recently, on October 29, Colombian human rights activist Ramiro Montes was killed by paramilitaries in Cordoba while en route to a meeting with a humanitarian mission sent to investigate displacements in the area. Finally, in still highly-contested areas like the southwest, indigenous Colombians have been subjected to a series of attacks by various armed actors.

Unfortunately, this new violence has emerged before Colombia has made significant headway in its attempts to come to terms with past bloodshed. The Justice and Peace (LPJ) process not come close to achieving an authentic, comprehensive process of truth and reconciliation. As noted in a previous post, victims’ rights have been consistently subordinated to Colombian leaders’ desire to claim victory in the conflict. In April, Colombian Senator Armando Benedetti, an uribista, delivered a scathing critique of the Justice and Peace Process. Benedetti highlighted the alarming statistics pointing to the failure of the process to prosecute paramilitaries and address the plight of the victims. For example, only 127 of the 3,257 paramilitary leaders accused of serious crimes have begun the process of giving confessions, and only four have finished the “open testimony” stage. Only one high-profile paramilitary leader, Salazar Carrascal, commonly known as “the Parrot,” has been convicted, and his conviction was later overturned because it failed to include all of his crimes. At the rate things are going, Senator Benedetti estimates that it would take 2,157 years to complete the judicial process. 

The reparations process is equally slow. The Attorney General’s office has reported that only 12 of the 3,257 paramilitary leaders have turned over ill-begotten assets to fund reparations to the victims. The goods include 70 pairs of used shoes and a television in poor condition. The assets amount to a value of $3.75 per registered victim. The restitution of stolen lands has been especially sluggish; paramilitaries have handed over just 6,600 hectares of land to the victim reparations fund and 60,000 hectares to displaced persons, meaning that only one percent of the lands have been returned to their rightful owners.

The disappointing results of the LJP process can be attributed to a variety of factors. The country’s justice system, which is plagued by “serious operational and financial bottlenecks,” is ill-equipped for a judicial process of such magnitude.  As Senator Benedetti explained, 125,368 victims had registered as of April, but the Ombudsman’s office, which is charged with assisting the victims, has only assigned 68 lawyers to handle their cases.  In addition, the Justice and Peace unit of the Prosecutor General’s Office has only 23 prosecutors working on the extremely complicated cases of paramilitary leaders, while the equivalent unit of the Attorney General’s Office has only 12 lawyers. In addition to the judicial backlog and overload, the persistent climate of violence has stymied the process, as paramilitary groups and new illegal armed groups have oftentimes threatened and harassed victims and witnesses. According to Benedetti’s presentation, 15 victims registered in the process have been killed while 92 have been threatened. A failure to devote more resources to investigation and protection has raised questions about the political will among ruling elites to fully and systematically confront the past. This suspicion was further raised by the May 2008 extradition of 14 top paramilitary chiefs to the US. While some subsequently expressed a desire to continue cooperating with the LJP process, others who possess great knowledge of horrific crimes have gone silent. Recognizing the risk that extradition will breed impunity, Colombia’s Supreme Court Court in August 2009 banned further extraditions of those engaged in the LJP process.

These developments highlight the fact that Colombia’s momentum has tapered off, even as Uribe seeks to make the success of Democratic Security the basis for an unprecedented third term. Thus far, neither the security lags nor the slow pace of the LJP process have significantly tarnished Uribe’s reputation. The most recent Gallup poll pegs his approval rating at a still-high 64 percent, and he dominates all hypothetical election matchups. However, citizens of both Medellin and Bogota have expressed concern about the urban security situation (Cali, Colombia’s third city, also famously violent, never saw its homicide rates decline as far as the other two) and international observers have increasingly noted the post-demobilization problems.  In some ways Uribe’s rhetoric has hemmed him in: he convinced Colombians that the FARC and, to a lesser degree, the AUC were at the root of Colombian ills. However, Colombia suffers from both deep-rooted social problems and the difficulties associated with being a top drug producer. Merely “defeating” the guerrillas and convincing the AUC to demobilize was never going to be sufficient absent a more integrated approach to security. In addition, one of the key post-conflict issues in any country is justice, and Colombia seems to remain a place where justice for victims remains a second order concern. As the reelection fight moves toward a climax, the attention of Colombia’s political class will remain distracted. But whether Uribe or one of his many rivals eventually emerges triumphant, Colombia will be faced with the reality that past performance is no guarantee of future success, and that ongoing security issues will require a rethinking of the Democratic Security strategy.

Cultivation of Corruption Among South Africa's Elites

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Criminal proceeding against Jackie Selebi, the South African police commissioner, began in Johannesburg this month. Selebi, whose CV includes positions such as former ambassador to the United Nations and chief of the international crime group Interpol, is on trial for corruption and other serious crimes. In one of the more colorful moments of the trial thus far, Glenn Agliotti, one of the country’s more notorious drug smugglers, testified to picking up the tab for Selebi’s designer clothing. He also bought couture handbags for Mr. Selebi’s wife, and paid the commissioner about $135,000 in cash in exchange for sensitive information.

Agliotti, for his part, is accused of murdering a corrupt mining magnate in a separate trial, and made a deal with the state to testify in exchange for indemnity for his dealings with Selebi. 

South Africa is far from the most corrupt country in the world (it ranked 54th best out of 180 countries in Transparency International’s 2008 Corruption Perceptions Index), yet neither is the anticorruption record of the country’s leaders impeccable. In 2004, Tony Yengeny, the anti-Apartheid activist and former African National Congress (ANC) speaker of parliament, was convicted for taking bribes from a weapons manufacturer. He served four months of a four-year prison sentence. And Jacob Zuma, the current president, was charged with corruption in 2005 and sacked from his position as deputy president, though after years of legal battles all charges were dropped in April 2009. The now-dormant charges against Zuma were related to a multi-billion dollar arms purchase in the 1990s an illustrative case as the awarding of government contracts has been an area of activity plagued by graft accusations.

The ANC’s overwhelming control of the executive and legislative branches lends itself to the cultivation of corruption, as accountability mechanisms are rendered ineffective. The Parliament has been criticized for failing to sufficiently investigate corruption scandals of members of the executive branch. In addition, political interference hampers the ability of the judiciary to fully combat corruption. The politicization of the judiciary was especially apparent in the corruption prosecution of Zuma and the suspension of Vusi Pikoli as National Director of Public Prosecutions by justice minister Brigitte Mabandla. In the latter case, it became apparent that the suspension was related at least partially to the fact that Pikoli approved an arrest warrant for Selebi.

South Africa’s constitution outlines three institutions meant to combat corruption, but for various reasons, none of them are fully effective. The Office of the Auditor General is responsible for reporting to the National Assembly on the finances of any agency that receives public funding, but suffers countless deficiencies such as a lack of resources and incomplete reporting by agencies. The Public Prosecutor investigates complaints on the part of the public against governmental officials, but its independence has been called into question, especially since the current PP, Leonard Mushwana, is a former ANC MP and has been accused of inhibiting investigations of senior ANC members and the party itself. Finally, while the Independent Electoral Commission regulates the public finances through the Represented Political Parties’ Fund, private contributions are totally unregulated, and parties do not have to reveal the size or sources of their donations. There are a handful of other, smaller agencies in the government that combat corruption, but all have similar limitations.

Furthermore, while South Africa has an independent media, government and especially ANC-affiliated officials have accused investigative journalists of treason or racism. A number of private newspapers and magazines—among them, the Mail & Guardian, the Cape Times, and the Sunday Times—express sharp criticism of the government, to which the ANC has been particularly sensitive. As a result, many private media outlets have been issued gag orders and lawsuits related to investigations into corruption, and the ANC has in some cases even threatened to withdraw advertising. 

As a result, about half of South Africa’s population believes corruption is widespread among government officials and civil servants. This perception is intensified by a heightened awareness of inequality between South Africa’s elites and the population as a whole. While much of South Africa’s society is poor and lacking running water, electricity, and toilets, members of the ruling class flaunt luxurious lifestyles. Haroon Bhroat, an economist at the University of Cape Town, reported that South Africa now harbors “the most unequal society in the world.” According to Bhroat’s calculations, South Africa’s Gini coefficient, which measures the level of income inequality in a given country, is at 0.679 (0 is completely equal, 1 is completely unequal). He warned that the situation could lead to social instability and, indeed, protests comprised of citizens from the lower rungs of society have recently broken out in Johannesburg.

President Zuma says he is committed to rooting out corruption, and in fact he has made some progress in certain fields. A “mood of intolerance” toward corruption is newly noticeable and criminal charges, rather than light wrist slaps, are becoming a more regular punishment for accused officials. He is also trying to make public finances more transparent and to create more barriers between companies that perform work for public bodies and public sector employees, forbidding the latter to seek employment with the former. How effective such measures will be has yet to be determined, and it’s perhaps a bit difficult to believe that Zuma--  whose involvement in one of South Africa’s most serious corruption scandals was thrown on out due to prosecutorial transgressions rather than a determination of innocence-- when he talks about rooting out graft. If the experience of other single party-dominant regimes is any guide, the overwhelming control of the ANC in South African politics, and the sense among aspiring officials that pleasing party elites is the key to professional advancement, will serve as a serious obstacle to effective and sustained reform.

Corruption-Fighters in Indonesia Feel Pushback

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Indonesian President began his second five-year term on Tuesday, following a resounding electoral victory in July. His success at the polls has been attributed in part to his tough stance on corruption—not an easy challenge to confront in a country rife with graft. However, in recent weeks efforts to provide greater transparency, which are considered indispensable to provide more tools to corruption-fighters, have faced significant resistance from the country’s parliament.

At the end of September, Indonesia’s parliament diluted the powers of the country’s special Corrupt Crimes Court and the independent Corruption Eradication Commission (known as the KPK), arguing that their powers were too far-reaching. The KPK can conduct wiretaps without a warrant, while the Court is known to hand down harsher sentences than Indonesia’s regular judiciary. But advocates of the institutions claimed that the impact of the highly-effective Court and KPK will decline if constraints are imposed and that any backtracking will raise red flags among investors.

In the end, much to the dismay and resistance of President Yudhoyono, parliament managed to weaken both institutions. Although intervention by the president prevented the dissolution of the KPK’s right to prosecute and tap telephones, the bill passed by parliament allows for the Court to staff a majority of its judges from the regular justice system. Previously, a majority of the judges had to come from outside of the government—including practicing lawyers, academics, and retired prosecutors, among others. As career judges do not tend to have impeccable reputations in corruption cases in Indonesia, such a requirement was seen to allow the court more independence.

The weakening of the KPK and the Corrupt Crimes Court was not the only blow to Indonesia’s anticorruption efforts last month. On September 15, Indonesian police named two of the four deputy chairmen of the KPK as suspects in a bribery case. The facts of the crime are a bit dubious (according to the Economist, one of the suspects was in Peru when he allegedly took a bribe in Jakarta), but nevertheless the two have been formally accused of abuse of power and taking bribes. To top off the anticorruption campaign’s woes, the well-respected head of the KPK went on trial in early October for allegedly masterminding the drive-by shooting of Nasrudin Zulkarnaen, the state-owned pharmaceuticals company director, in what appears to be a love triangle-turned-deadly.   

Finally, the president’s new cabinet—expected to lack experience to carry out substantial economic overhaul—raises doubts among analysts that necessary institutional reforms to combat corruption will take place in the near future.

Combating graft is always a frustrating endeavor, let alone in one of the most corrupt countries in the world, and resistance to such efforts is nothing new.  Corruption is endemic to the expansive web of Indonesian bureaucracy as a result of Suharto’s 32-year-long presidency, a kleptocracy marked by brutality and cronyism. Following his death in 1998, corruption was so entrenched in the Indonesian bureaucratic apparatus that bribes were an expected part of nearly all citizen interactions with the state. Despite efforts to reduce opportunities for corruption, such practices have not been sufficiently abated. Note that petty corruption can be combated much more effectively through technocratic reforms than grand corruption, which inevitably hinges on political will.The KPK was created in 2003 to investigate large-scale corruption, defined as official misconduct that cost the state more than US$85,000. Its success at first was highly mixed and it was criticized for failing to convict prosecutors and police. According to Freedom in the World, a 2008 survey revealed that while the KPK is considered highly credible relative to other Indonesian government institutions, almost three-fourths of those polled thought the Commission had not created enough of a “culture of shame” to prevent state officials from engaging in corruption.

However, in more recent years, the Commission has been lauded for its progress, albeit modest, in rooting out corruption and improving Indonesia’s image. According to the New York Times, since 2003 the commission has achieved a 100 percent conviction rate in 86 cases of bribery and graft brought to trial. In 2008, specifically, a string of high-level prosecutions helped solidify the legitimacy of the Commission and fostered an increased fear of prosecution within Indonesia’s political institutions. That October, the former governor of the Bank of Indonesia was slapped with a five-year sentence for embezzling US$10.3 million in central bank funds. Though critics claimed that such a sentence was not harsh enough to serve as an effective deterrent, generally speaking it was seen as a step in the right direction.

Efforts to combat corruption have been made on a more macro level as well. Direct elections at the local level, held since 2005, have helped to reduce patronage. A number of local initiatives, for example, have reduced the likelihood of bribery by simplifying the process of obtaining business permits and making secondary school applications an online process. Such efforts bumped up Indonesia’s rating in Transparency International’s 2008 Corruption Perceptions Index; in 2007, Indonesia was ranked 143rd of 180 countries (with 180 being Somalia, the most corrupt), while in 2008, it moved up to 126th place.

That said, 126th place is still not an enviable place to be. Corruption is still rampant in all branches of government on both the local and national level and impunity is pervasive. Moreover, with the recent pushback by Parliament, it appears that the reform project is at risk of backsliding.

Few countries have managed to successfully wage the battle against corruption without setbacks. However, given the fight’s centrality to the future of Indonesia’s institutions and the country’s ability to sustain economic growth, President Yudhoyono should certainly consider spending some of his hard-earned political capital to ensure that Indonesia’s reputation as a country on the right trajectory remains intact.           

The Death Penalty in China and Iran: A Mockery of Justice

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As the world marked World Day Against the Death Penalty this weekend, Iranian officials announced that three protesters arrested in the country’s post-election crackdown have been sentenced to death. The verdicts were announced despite widespread international outcry over the sentencing of another protester, Mohammad Reza Ali Zamani, to death last week. Saturday’s announcement came the same day that Iran, in blatant violation of international law, hanged a man who was 17 when he committed a murder. 

With a tally of at least 346 executions in 2008, Iran carried out more executions than any other country in the world besides China. Eight of these were juvenile offenders, according to Amnesty International, making Iran the only country in the world in which juvenile offenders were known to be executed (the United States, which occupied fifth place in the number of executions carried out in 2008, abolished the death penalty for juveniles in 2005). Meanwhile, China, the globe’s “first place” executioner with least 1,718 in 2008, sentenced six men to death on Monday for murder, arson, and robbery during the July 2009 ethnic riots in Xinjiang. In both of these countries, exact figures of the number of executions are not publicly available.

Although both countries log significantly higher-than-average capital punishment figures, governmental attitudes toward and application of the death penalty in the two countries differ notably.

Cloaked in a language of morality, capital punishment in Iran is used by the government to prevent threats to the legitimacy of the country’s religion-based political system. In other words, the government conflates threats to the religious order with threats to the political order. Under Islamic law as applied in the country, a gamut of crimes is punishable by death.  Homicide, rape, incest, homosexuality, adultery, and prostitution are capital offenses. Execution sentences are sometimes given out for drug-related crimes. The protesters sentenced to death last week were charged with mohareb, or “taking up arms against God.” 

According to Amnesty International, a 2008 law widened the scope of capital crime in Iran to include pornography, and officials were proposing laws to include apostasy, heresy and witchcraft, as well as internet crimes that “promote corruption and apostasy” on the list of capital offenses.

In the case of murder, the family of the victim determines whether the person who committed the murder will face death or pay compensation – literally “blood money” – to the family. This allows the state to take a hands-off approach in determining the fate of those convicted of murder. In the case of Behnoud Shojaie, the young man who was executed this week for a murder he committed at age 17, the state responded to cries from the United Nations by noting that Iranian officials were “doing their utmost” to get the victim’s family to accept the blood money. Though Navi Pillay, the U.N. Commissioner for Human Rights, said that the organization welcomes attempts to mediate between the family of the victim and the person convicted of the murder, such actions were “utterly insufficient” in satisfying Iran’s international law commitments.

In China, capital punishment is a way of combating disruptions of social and political, rather than moral, order. Its Communist secular law provides for perhaps an even wider range of capital offenses. Homicide, rape, and kidnapping are all punishable by death, as are non-violent crimes such financial fraud, smuggling weapons and precious metals, and counterfeiting currency. Unlike Iran, China prohibits the execution of a person who committed his or her crime before the age of 18. The widespread utilization of capital punishment in China is the continuation of the “strike hard” campaigns used to suppress criminality following the breakdown of social order during the Cultural Revolution. As discussed in the 2007 Countries at the Crossroads report, these campaigns are characterized by the rounding up and severe punishing of large numbers of people, especially young people, often through mass trials and executions.

Despite these differences, the justice systems are similar in failing to provide fair trials for those charged with capital crimes. These countries apply the rule of law unevenly. The Iranian court system is pervasively politicized. There is limited adherence to constitutional guarantees including freedom from arbitrary arrest, the right of access to competent courts, and the right to select an attorney or be provided with legal counsel. Lawyers who defend criminals accused of political crimes are at risk of finding themselves accused of acting against national security.

In China, the judiciary has almost no independence or autonomy from the Chinese Communist Party, and all courts are answerable to the National People’s Congress. Judicial officials are poorly trained. Suspects are not presumed innocent until proven guilty and many confessions are extracted through torture. As in Iran, defense lawyers are often treated as accomplices to suspects.

Barring any extreme political development, it is unlikely that these countries’ judicial systems will undergo significant reform or that the application of the death penalty will be narrowed. This raises concerns for both future and immediate developments. Though death sentences in Iran may be appealed to the Supreme Court, the recent protest-related convictions evoked fears about the fates of other protesters held in prison after this summer’s post-election crackdown. Apparently 18 other protesters received sentences last week, though these sentences have not yet been made public. According to the Guardian, there were more than 4,000 people arrested for their involvement in this summer’s protests, about 200 of whom are still imprisoned. Last week, Amnesty International called for Iran to lift the death penalty on Zamani, labeling the prosecution a “show trial” and a “mockery of justice.”

Given the eminently political nature of these sentences, and the tense political climate in Tehran following June’s elections, the Iranian government may be courting a public backlash. This is unlikely in China, as the public, scarred by memories of the chaos of the Cultural Revolution, generally supports harsh measures to keep social order under control. In the end, it is probably impossible to know if such common use of the death penalty functions as the authorities intend, as a deterrent to both crime and challenges to the established order. It is clear, however, that the shadowy process that leads to the firing squad or gallows in each country symbolizes the meagerness of individual rights in these authoritarian states.