We trace the development of decidedly minoritarian forms of decision making—the “democracy of direct action,” as it is known locally—to activists’ experiences of organizing for migrant and minority rights in the face of ethnonationalism. We compare the democracy of direct action to Occupy Wall Street’s consensus-based model. In conclusion, we ask how ethnographic attention to the varieties of emergent political forms within the current global cycle of protest might extend recent theorizing of radical politics and contribute to broader efforts to reimagine democracy.

Jeffrey S. Juris offers “Reflections on #Occupy Everywhere: Social media, public space, and emerging logics of aggregation”:

Whereas listservs and websites helped give rise to a widespread logic of networking within the movements for global justice of the 1990s–2000s, I argue that social media have contributed to an emerging logic of aggregation in the more recent #Occupy movements—one that involves the assembling of masses of individuals from diverse backgrounds within physical spaces. However, the recent shift toward more decentralized forms of organizing and networking may help to ensure the sustainability of the #Occupy movements in a posteviction phase.

And David Nugent comments on the first two articles and the questions they raise “about the temporalities of capitalism and about the dilemmas of inclusion in the recent Occupy movements.”

The Occupy media blitz—and the Occupy intellectuals I’ve heard speak and with whom I’ve spoken—marketed, without irony, the May Day events as a general strike. But everyone who knows the meaning of that term knows that this is a lie. A general strike is a strike by all the workers (or most of the workers) in a community, regardless of where they work. The May Day actions didn’t even amount to a regular strike. Rather, May Day 2012, at least in NYC, was more or less a roving lefty carnival. It was a series of performances—joyous street theater on a larger than normal scale. But it was politically meaningless.

This exposes what is, in my opinion, a fundamental feature of the Occupy movement: Occupy is all play and no power. Substantive political action—and, in particular, the future of left resistance to inequality—remains in the hands of established movement organizations.

The last general strike in the United States was in Oakland, California, in December 1946. The city was shut down for two days. The streetcars were still, the buses still, and the stores were shuttered. Jukeboxes from taverns that strikers had closed were pushed onto sidewalks and the most popular music of the day filled the air. People danced in the street. Many called it their “work holiday,” even while spending most of their time on picket lines. And those pickets: they were racially integrated and often led by women. The marchers stayed strong night and day, filled with good cheer. When you look at photos of the strike, everyone seems to be smiling and many are laughing, despite the winter weather. Some of the protesters picketed while roller-skating. During the strike, there was a meeting in a huge space attended by more than 10,000 people, with hundreds outside listening on speakers. A real general assembly! Unions were in complete control of the city. The cops, the politicians, and the businessmen were powerless.¹

May Day 2012 looked nothing like this. In New York City, the subways and buses ran without even a slowdown (even though the transit workers’ unions are typically unafraid to implement slowdowns when not actively striking). None of the municipal or state unions called for work stoppages or slowdowns. Nor were there a significant number of store closures.

Reasons can be given for this, and reasons were given. It was said that the union leaders would go to jail if they advocated for industrial action. Some pointed out that in this economy everyone needs every dollar they can make. And so on. So be it. These are just the sorts of considerations one has to face when deciding whether to call a strike, much less a general strike. But instead of facing up to these considerations against calling for a strike, much less a general strike, Occupy just redefined “general strike” to mean whatever would happen on May Day.

This appears to me to be a clear case of dishonesty. In democratic organizing, telling the truth matters. Being honest both with yourself and with those who follow you is essential for the organizing to be democratic. And, being honest with yourself and those who follow you is essential for the organizing to be successful.

So, this is not just about the term “general strike.” While there is a concern about Occupy’s Orwellian willingness to deploy powerful political terms in truth-disregarding but marketing-sensitive ways, thereby obscuring what might be required for actual political change, what really concerns me is that this approach betrays a failure to be open about the internal challenges to entering into genuine struggle. This, in turn, means that people will enter into that struggle only accidentally, in spite of Occupy’s obfuscation.² It suggests that Occupy, short on political power and long on theatricality, is treating compelling, fun street performance as the same thing as building and using power in the political sphere.

A central goal of most forms of contemporary democratic organizing is the development of astute, disciplined political actors who understand what it takes to make changes in an unjust political order. What is destructive, then, is that people who are drawn into the Occupy movement are learning the wrong things about how to organize effectively for justice and change. They are learning that what we saw on Tuesday, May 1, was a manifestation of deep and profound political power—just march and protest, hold skill shares and yell at the cops, and the world will suddenly become more just.³ What a terrible lesson.

Where can we look today for a proper lesson?

One place to look is the struggle in Wisconsin. When Governor Scott Walker tried, in early 2011, to force onto the state the most anti-union, anti-working-class legislation in generations, the unions and the broader left community responded with fury. They occupied the state house. They rallied for days on end in the Wisconsin winter. The Democratic legislators fled the state, depriving the Senate of a quorum. These legislators suffered financial penalties for refusing to come back. Capitol police defied the orders of the governor, which was a legal risk. Workers took time off of work, consequently losing wages. The costs incurred were substantial and the risks taken were not for the meek. Despite this, the response was awesome: A massive fist rose from the earth and clocked the right-wing political establishment square across the face.⁴ If anything in the United States during the past two years deserves to be called an insurrection, those early days of revolt in Madison do.⁵

Against this backdrop and given the hype leading up to Occupy’s May Day events, the timidity of those events stuns. For Occupy spent much of its energy representing May Day as a day of massive political action: The people are waking up! This is revolution! But May Day wasn’t any of those things, and Occupy is not a political movement. What Occupy is, is an aesthetic—a softly democratic and faintly anarchistic one.⁶ And it’s an aesthetic academics and many activists on the left consume so that we can feel radical and politically active without actually having to be radical or politically active.

Therein lies the rub—for everyone who learned from the May Day events that this is what democracy looks like, for everyone who learned from the May Day events that this is what mass political action looks like: you were sold a bill of goods. Big marches and “general assemblies” that most people cannot attend aren’t the primary vehicles for democratic change. Street theater may be political, but it doesn’t amount to an exercise of significant political power.⁷ Occupy marketed May Day as something that it isn’t. Occupy might be playing the same cynical consumerist game it rails against.

I do not deny that Occupy is fun. I love participating. As performance, Occupy is valuable. While marching together, my friend turned to me and said, “Occupy is like the fountain of youth for unions and other organizations.” He’s right. Occupy’s energy made NYC’s giant May Day march happen—there is no way it would have happened in the absence of Occupy. The energy and open-faced joy of Occupy probably has reinvigorated many of those experienced organizers and left institutions that were, in some cases, struggling for energy as a result of both the recession and intense challenges from the Right.⁸

All this fun does not take away from the fact that Occupy is, in the end, little more than theater. Theater is important. It can start a conversation. It can inspire those who have power to use it in certain ways. But theater can be distracting, and young activists could learn the wrong lessons from Occupy. People will come to believe that the theater that is Occupy is a substantive form of direct political power when in fact it is not. What happens when they become disillusioned when they discover that effective organizing means a lot of drudgery (like many other jobs)?

For the kind of power needed to bring the world more in line with our ideals, we must look, at least on the Left, to more traditional organizations like labor unions and communities of solidarity, like women’s rights groups, immigrants’ rights groups, queer rights groups, and the like. To learn how to create political change, to learn how to fight back when they say cut back, look to the 1946 Oakland General Strike or look to the 2011 Wisconsin insurrection.⁹ While Occupy should continue to reach out to these groups and inspire them with their energy, Occupy should be open in acknowledging that such cheerleading is all it is able, or willing, to do.

Like I said—Occupy is a good thing and it has been very fun. But in the end, Occupy is just play.¹⁰

Academics across the country have embraced the movement since it emerged in September, organizing classes, publishing reams of commentary and issuing calls to “occupy” not just Wall Street but also sociology, anthropology, history, philosophy or the entire “academic vampire squid” itself, as a poster for a session at the recent annual meeting of the International Studies Association put it.

A smaller number have also been turning to a more difficult task: turning a sprawling movement into hard — and publishable — data.

The article cites numerous academics involved in research on the Occupy movement, including the criminologist Edward Maguire, the anthropologist Jeffrey Juris, and five sociologists working on separate projects: Alex Vitale, Héctor Cordero-Guzmán, Ruth Milkman, Todd Gitlin, and Jesse Klein. These academics, all affiliated with American universities, address a range of different issues around the movement in their research projects, and in the case of Maguire, seek to provide a basis for “recommendations to police departments.” Other researchers’ relationships to the movement are more ambiguous. Juris claims that every researcher studying the movement he knows “is an activist of some sort.”

In addition, the article calls attention to the work done by Occupy Research, particularly in the course of hackathons that mine existing data from social-networking sites and other sources. The activist-scholars involved in this work are not all academically affiliated.

Read the full article here.

In light of the general strike called for today by the Occupy movement, Bhaskar Sunkara asks, “What is a general strike, anyway?”:

A general strike has traditionally been defined as a work stoppage by a critical mass of labor in a given location. The daily processes of accumulation are stopped and neglected political questions come to the forefront of public debate.

Anti-austerity movements in Europe and elsewhere have recently seen such strikes, with millions in the street, mustering support for threatened social services. In the past, workers have similarly mobilized over a host of issues in the United States. General strikes took place in Saint Louis in 1877, New Orleans in 1892, Seattle in 1919, San Francisco in 1934, and Oakland in 1946. All were visible demonstrations of capital’s dependence on labor.

Occupy will not be able to match the scale of these actions, but many believe keeping the concept in circulation is important in itself.

Read Sunkara’s intervention here.

The recent “Kony 2012″ viral video has highlighted serious disagreement within and between the research, humanitarian, activist, and policy communities over whether the film is to be commended for raising awareness, or criticized for its misleading portrayal of the conflict. Its recommendations have been similarly debated. However, supporters and critics of the film have found common ground in highlighting the serious need for more information and a better understanding of the conflict surrounding the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA), as well as the situation in northern Uganda and its neighboring states.

In an attempt to address this deficit of information, a group of leading researchers and activists on the LRA have launched a new website, Making Sense of Kony. The site features a blog which is already host to a number of contributions from experts on the LRA and the associated conflict, as well as answers to some frequently asked questions about the LRA and the Kony 2012 film, a list of resources and links for further reading, and a discussion forum.

Learn more from the press release (copied below) and visit the website here.

In the storm that has erupted over Invisible Children’s Kony 2012 campaign, one conclusion that people on all sides of the controversy tend to agree upon is the deep, even desperate, need for more information about the conflict in northern Uganda. In an effort to respond to this demand, a group of scholars and activists with extensive experience in the region have come together to develop an on-line resource for those seeking to learn more about the conflict, its legacy in Uganda, and the LRA-associated violence in central Africa. It is our aim that the materials found here will contribute to the growing public debate about the conflict and help inform both citizen activism and policy decisions. Although divergent political positions and practical programs are reflected in the materials we present, all are founded upon a common commitment to the importance of critique, debate, and learning. Our hope is that this forum will evolve into a long-term source of information on the conflict and its repercussions, incorporating contributions by a growing community of researchers and activists.

Visit us on the web: Go to http://makingsenseofkony.org.

Like Us on Facebook: Visit our page at http://www.facebook.com/MakingSenseOfKONY, or Search ‘Making Sense of Kony’. Like our page to add our site to your newsfeed.

Follow Us on Twitter: Follow @MakeSenseofKONY and receive our tweets.

Contact: If you are interested in contributing to this blog and/or would like to help maintain it, please send us an email at info@makingsenseofkony.org.

Robert Mugabe, President of the Republic of Zimbabwe, addresses the general debate of the sixty-fifth session of the General Assembly

This month sees the anniversaries both of the first free general elections in South Africa (27 April 1994) and independence from white minority rule in neighbouring Zimbabwe (18 April 1980). And in coming months the sun could likely set in each country on the lives of two major African leaders whom history will remember very differently.

Nelson Mandela is 93 years old. The anti-apartheid icon retired over a decade ago after serving as post-apartheid South Africa’s first democratically-elected president. The contribution his leadership and example have made to that country’s longer-term prospects for racial harmony and social cohesion is generally seen as incalculable. The anxiety following his brief hospitalisation in February signalled the levels of respect and affection in which he is held in South Africa and around the world: his death and funeral will undoubtedly be significant global events.

Zimbabwe’s current president Robert Mugabe has been in office, in effect, since 1980. Last week he walked unaided off a flight from Singapore. Reactions to reports in early April that the 88-year old was dying in a foreign hospital provide further proof—if more were needed—of the considerable political uncertainty prevailing in contemporary Zimbabwe. Mugabe is widely held responsible for that country’s descent, especially after 2000, from post-conflict African success story to so-called “pariah state,” a by-word for democratic misrule, corruption and human rights abuse. His articulate rants against what he portrays as the West’s “imperialist” designs, misdeeds and hypocrisy have a far greater resonance across Africa than is commonly understood. His cynical policies on land reform distorted history and impoverished most Zimbabweans, but also manipulated uncomfortable truths about the incomplete economic emancipation of black Zimbabweans. However, his unnecessary and destructive behavior have also entrenched unfortunate stereotypes of inherently flawed African leadership—much to the frustration of many on the continent, especially its younger people.

Comparisons with Mandela particularly irk Mugabe, but they are neither all unfair, nor inaccurate. The abundant hostility towards Mugabe at home and abroad is partly a function of general disappointment, given his early record after 1980 directing the country’s post-civil war recovery. Zimbabwe’s achievements in education, healthcare and economic growth made for admiring donors and envious neighbors; as he begins to fade, he understandably feels entitled to greater credit for the principled stances he took opposing apartheid rule and on racial reconciliation towards white Rhodesians in the new Zimbabwe. In this sense he somewhat preceded Mandela, but the public memory will certainly prefer the Mandela narrative to the Mugabe one.

Mugabe cultivates the current political uncertainty and unease in Zimbabwe, including by refraining from naming any preferred successor in the ZANU-PF party that, despite everything, he continues to dominate. His political exit has been the subject of decade-long speculation, has invariably been called too soon, and he prefers it that way. However, most observers doubt that he will live into his 90s; he will hope that his epitaph will be “freedom fighter, socialist, and true African nationalist” but history is far more likely to simply label him “dictator.” Zimbabwe’s post-Mugabe transition may yet prove less chaotic than many fear, but he will be given little credit for any broader recovery.

In South Africa, during its current centenary year the ruling ANC party—and its alliance partners—continue a painful, factionalised and highly public period of soul-searching over the former liberation movement’s trajectory. Pending party leadership elections in December are distracting its leadership from policy actions as the country’s high-potential economy drifts along. For a party that draws so readily on its history, Mandela’s death will both unite the ANC in grief and leave something of a vacuum in which the organisation’s messy intrigues may appear more starkly. Contests over the “true” interpretation and rightful inheritors of the Mandela leadership legacy will drag on. It remains to be seen whether the sheer force of Mandela’s legacy will be enough, along with the many resilient features of the party and country’s democratic commitments, to help the ANC leadership govern that complex and important country in the spirit expressed in its much-admired constitution.

2011’s “Arab Spring” in North Africa threw a spotlight on long-time leaders south of the Sahara, from Angola to Zimbabwe. Coming after the recent sudden death of Malawian president Bingu wa Mutharika, the recent rumours of Mugabe’s pending demise have served to highlight the widespread uncertainty about what lies in store for Zimbabwe. In South Africa, time will tell if the country has yet to really confront its difficult history in the “honest” ways that Zimbabweans have recently been forced to. For those looking to South Africa for principled leadership on the continent, and for South Africans worried (mostly unduly) about the “ZANU-fication” of the ANC, Mandela’s eventual passing will be mourned for more than just the death of a great man.

Human Rights Watch issued a Question and Answer sheet “Who is Joseph Kony?” on 22 March, which provides a basic outline of the conflict and its history, as well as providing extensive recommendations for the governments in the region and elsewhere, as well as for various international organizations. The Q&A also provides an outline of the international justice mechanisms and their role in addressing the conflict. Overall, HRW acknowledges the criticisms of the video, but finds that “the film’s central message is also valid: Kony. . . and other LRA leaders should be arrested and brought to justice.” Read more here.

The Association of Concerned Africa Scholars (ACAS) issued a more critical statement on 14 March, expressing concern “that the recent campaign in the United States to pursue and arrest Joseph Kony, leader of the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA), could have dangerous unintended consequences.”

Expanding U.S. military operations with the Ugandan army to capture Kony could increase the militarization of the region and lead to deaths of civilians who are caught in the crossfire or become targets of retaliatory attacks by the LRA, as has occurred in the past. Indeed, the Ugandan army itself has been guilty of atrocities and abuse of civilians. First and foremost, the U.S. government must refrain from actions that could undermine peace and security.

Full statement here.

Meanwhile, 24 March marked the beginning of the operational phase of the African Union-led Regional Cooperation Initiative for the Elimination of the Lord’s Resistance Army. The Initiative, which has been in planning since well before the Kony 2012 phenomenon, is being supported by the United Nations, particularly the UN Office in Central Africa (UNOCA). The main product of the Initiative is a Regional Task Force comprised of 5,000 troops from the conflict-affected countries, coordinated by a body of regional Ministers of Defense, under AU auspices.

US Secretary of State Hillary Rodham Clinton and DRC Foreign Minister Alexis Thambwe-Mwambe in Goma, DRC

The Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC) held national elections beginning on 28 November 2011. The Carter Center, European Union observers, Congo’s Catholic Bishops, United States, other Western states, United Nations, and many others stated that these elections were badly flawed. Yet, in early March 2012, the UN, Western, and African governments are striving to interact with President Kabila on a “business as usual” basis. A mere two months ago, some of the same governments were criticizing the elections. What happened?

Western diplomacy is sometimes criticized as cynical. The West, particularly the United States, preaches democracy, but—it is argued—when it does not suit Western interests, the West ignores its own rhetoric and turns a blind eye to fraudulent electoral outcomes, like those in the Congo. However, seen from a closer vantage point, current American diplomacy, whether towards Africa or in reaction to the Arab Spring, looks more like a constant struggle to balance international stability with the promotion of  democracy. When American policymakers perceive that the stability interest conflicts with the democracy value, more often than not, the stability interest triumphs. Unfortunately, in the case of the Congo, Western diplomats have conjured a false dichotomy between stability and democracy promotion, and, as they normally do, have chosen stability. This regrettable slide away from democracy promotion was inadvertently aided by one small slip.

It is a disturbing fact that history can sometimes turn on something as tiny as an omitted word. This article will discuss outside reactions to the presidential election and lay out the importance of a one-word omission in a mistranslation—and how this seemingly trivial error aided some Western governments in their ill-considered acquiescence to another five year presidential term for Joseph Kabila. Finally, a better approach, reuniting values and interests, will be offered.

The UN, African governments, and Western states have long and loudly stated their interest in and commitment to democratic development in the DRC. Just three of many examples of international rhetoric on the importance of elections and democracy include the African Union Declaration on the Principles Governing Democratic Elections in Africa, adopted in 2002,¹ the Report of the Secretary-General on the United Nations Organization Stabilization Mission in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, May 12, 2011,² and the testimony of Ambassador Donald Yamamoto, Principal Deputy Assistant Secretary of State for African Affairs, before the US House of Representatives Foreign Affairs Committee Subcommittee on Africa, Global Health, and Human Rights, on 8 March 2011.³

The African Union (AU), Southern African Development Community (SADC), the Economic Community of the Central African States (ECCAS), International Conference on the Great Lakes Region (ICGLR), and the Common Market for Eastern and Southern Africa (COMESA) sent election observers to monitor the 28 November elections. On 30 November, the observer missions for these African organizations issued a “Joint Declaration on the Presidential and Parliamentary Elections in the Democratic Republic of Congo” stating that “(we) welcome the successful holding of the elections despite the numerous challenges which the country is confronted with. . .” and “appeal to all the Congolese political stakeholders to continue to show a high sense of responsibility by accepting the outcome of the polls, and should there be any dispute due legal processes should be pursued.” ⁴ This statement was released before the end of actual voting in some parts of the Congo and before the announcement of provisional results.

On 9 December, the Congolese electoral commission (CENI) released provisional results. As reported by the CENI, out of 18,143,104 total votes cast, Joseph Kabila, with 8,880,944 votes (48.95%), defeated his nearest rival, Etienne Tshisekedi, who received 5,864,775 votes (32.33%). That same day, the US State Department issued a press release, saying: “The United States continues to follow closely the electoral process in the Democratic Republic of the Congo (DRC). With today’s publication of the preliminary results, the United States urges the relevant Congolese authorities to complete the remaining steps in the electoral process by proceeding with maximum openness and transparency.”

On 10 December 2011, the Carter Center released a statement on the Congo’s presidential election provisional results which reached a markedly different conclusion from that of the African observers: “The problems observed in the tabulation and announced results are compounded by inadequate access for observers at multiple compilation centers around the country and no official access to the national results center in Kinshasa. The Carter Center is therefore unable to provide independent verification of the accuracy of the overall results or the degree to which they reflect the will of the Congolese people.” European Union election observers later released a statement similar to that of the Carter Center.

It is crucial to be meticulous and clear when examining the empirical question of Joseph Kabila’s democratic legitimacy after the 2011 elections. Casual observers might find Kabila’s reported 3,016,169 vote margin of victory convincing. After all, could there really have been fraud and other problems on such a scale to call into question such an overwhelming margin of victory? According to the Carter Center and other careful observers of these elections, the short answer is “Yes.” For example, according to the Carter Center, in their February 23, 2012 statement on the Congolese elections:

The poor management and disorganization of the local results tabulation centers (CLCRs) during the tabulation of presidential results contributed to the loss of at least 3,500 polling station results (affecting 1.2 million potential votes), including some 2,000 in Kinshasa. Highly implausible results were reported from four districts in Katanga province, which recorded between 99-100 percent of the vote for incumbent President Joseph Kabila, with rates of voter participation of almost 100 percent. A further ten districts had 95 percent of the vote for Kabila, garnering some 1.8 million of his 8.8 million votes overall. These districts also reported a rate of null or blank ballots well below the national average; yet even those small totals were greater than the number of valid votes recorded for all ten of the other presidential candidates combined. These facts, coupled with the fact that CENI signed off and accepted these results, followed by the Supreme Court, undermine the credibility of not only these particular results but erode the integrity of the overall administration of the tabulation.⁵

Furthermore, as stated by the Carter Center:

Some 3.2 million of the overall 18 million votes, nearly 18 percent, were cast through derogation voting—voters casting a ballot at a location other than where they are registered. This high number of such votes reflects the many problems with CENI’s management of the voter register. While derogation voting has the potential to increase voter access to the polls, it is also open to abuse by multiple or non-registered voters, especially when, as observed by the Center, other controls such as inking of a voter’s finger after voting are not used comprehensively.⁶

Note that just these three irregularities call into question 6.2 million votes, more than double Joseph Kabila’s purported margin of victory. Multiple other inconsistencies, irregularities, and fraud in nearly every other province of the Congo call into question many more of the over 18 million votes cast.

With the Carter Center’s release, Western governments believed themselves in an uncomfortable position, in contrast with how they viewed the 2006 elections. In 2006, the Congo held relatively good, free, and fair elections, its first post-independence contested multi-party elections. After these elections, President Kabila himself stated that, having won freely and fairly, he finally had become the democratically legitimate head of state. The international community correctly agreed.

Despite all the imperfections of the 2006 elections, the Carter Center, which had sent an observation mission, concluded that President Kabila really had won. There had been cheating and fraud on a large scale—by both Kabila and his main opponent, Jean-Pierre Bemba—but the Carter Center examined the levels of cheating and other problems and determined that the results still were accurate in terms of who won and who lost.

In 2006, American and other Western diplomats had to balance the constant tension between their interest in stability and democratic values, but stability and democracy promotion did not come into conflict, since Western policymakers saw a Kabila victory also as promoting stability. In 2011, stability and democratic values appeared to come into conflict, since many Western diplomats genuinely feared the destabilizing effect if Etienne Tshisekedi would win the election, and fervently hoped—at the very least—for another Kabila victory.

However, with the badly botched election, and negative assessments such as those by the Carter Center and European Observer Mission, this scenario did not unfold as neatly as they had hoped. To aid their turn away from democracy promotion, Western governments latched onto a mistranslation of one sentence from the Carter Center’s original English language version. The Carter Center statement, originally drafted in English, contains the following sentence: “This assessment does not propose that the final order of candidates is necessarily different than announced by CENI, only that the results process is not credible.”  This sentence, carefully albeit tortuously drafted, is clear in and of itself when read closely. In the context of the full Carter Center report, it is unambiguously clear that this sentence means the Carter Center was unable to conclude who actually won the election. Put in the plainest language, the Carter Center had concluded that neither Joseph Kabila nor Etienne Tshisekedi, his main rival, nor any other candidate could legitimately claim that he had won the election.

The Carter Center’s own French version mistranslated this sentence into the following: “Cette déclaration ne remet pas en cause l’ordre des résultats des candidats tel qu’annoncé par la CENI,”  or in English: “This statement does not call into question the order of the results for the candidates as announced by CENI.” (The present version of the Carter Center’s December statement in French on their website has corrected this sentence from the original French version with the explanation that the reader should “please note that the text of the French version has been modified to conform with the original English version.”) The mistaken omission of the word “necessarily” from the French version (“ne remet pas nécessairement en cause. . .” or, “does not necessarily call into question. . .”) inadvertently provided a way out both for Joseph Kabila’s Congolese supporters and for anxious diplomats.

Despite the Carter Center’s clear overall meaning in both English and French versions, an anonymous paper was rapidly circulated by Congolese supporters of Joseph Kabila. This paper, dated 12 December, only two days after the release of the Carter Center statement, and entitled “Note Concerning the Announcement of Provisional Results by the CENI,” seized on the one sentence mistranslated in French to argue that the Carter Center, along with other observer missions, accepted that, despite irregularities, Joseph Kabila had indeed won the election. This poorly argued, slanted document attempted to demonstrate that Joseph Kabila won, saying in its final sentence:  ”The credibility of the results of the November 28 presidential election is therefore clearly established despite certain irregularities found here and there.” This paper was immediately circulated in Kinshasa and Western capitals.

On 16 December, the Congolese Supreme Court affirmed the results precisely as announced by the Congolese Electoral Commission, declaring Joseph Kabila the official winner of the 2011 presidential elections. After any country’s announcement of official elections results, it is customary for concerned governments to release statements commenting on the elections. African states, following the lead of the African observer missions and the governments of South Africa and Congo’s neighbors, rapidly congratulated Joseph Kabila on his purported victory.

The next day, one of the first statements from a Western country came from Belgium, stating: “Deputy Prime Minister and Foreign Minister Didier Reynders takes note of the final results of the presidential elections in the Democratic Republic of Congo.” The statement continues that the Minister of Foreign Affairs “regrets once again that too many deficiencies and irregularities were confirmed during the collection and counting of the results. Even though these deficiencies do not appear to be of a nature to call into question the order of the results, they negatively affect the integrity of the vote.”⁷

 Apparently, the Belgian Minister of Foreign Affairs, having read the Carter Center statement in French, concluded, along with the anonymous Congolese propagandists, that even the Carter Center accepted that Joseph Kabila had in reality won the election. Note the similarity of the relevant wording in the Belgian government’s communiqué to the mistranslated Carter Center statement.

On 20 December 2011, the U.S. Department of State released a statement by the Secretary of State, Hillary Clinton, which said:

The United States is deeply disappointed by the Democratic Republic of the Congo Supreme Court’s decision to uphold the electoral commission’s provisional results without fully evaluating widespread reports of irregularities. We believe that the management and technical execution of these elections were seriously flawed, lacked transparency and did not measure up to the democratic gains we have seen in recent African elections. However, it is still not clear whether the irregularities were sufficient to change the outcome of the election. We believe that a review of the electoral process by the Congolese authorities and outside experts may shed additional light on the cause of the irregularities, identify ways to provide more credible results, and offer guidance for the ongoing election results and for future elections.⁸

Interestingly, the American statement, relying on the English version of the Carter Center statement, gets it right in stating that it just is not clear whether Joseph Kabila had won or not.

The seeds of both international logic and illogic towards the Congo’s elections had been sown. The Belgian statement, following the French version of just one key sentence in the Carter Center report (and ignoring its clear overall content), stated, incorrectly, that everyone, including credible international observers, already agreed that Joseph Kabila had won the presidential election, even taking into account fraud and myriad other flaws. Secretary Clinton’s statement, however, following the original, correct, English version of the Carter Center report, pointed in a more positive direction.

The logical implication of her statement can be summarized as follows:  The United States wants to see an increasingly democratic Congo. The November elections are not a step in this direction. Therefore, the United States will take actions to help Congo regain a democratic path. The initial actions  that the US will take are to make both a public statement stressing disappointment in the process to date and offer a positive suggestion for a review of the results, involving outside experts, to “provide more credible results, and offer guidance for the ongoing election results.” The United States will take additional steps, as warranted, to help Congo regain a democratic path.

The next important steps occurred in January 2012. Publicly, based on Secretary Clinton’s call for a review of the electoral process by Congolese authorities and outside experts, the National Democratic Institute and IFES organized a joint mission to the Congolese capital of Kinshasa. Because of a near total lack of cooperation from the CENI, this mission ended in failure, and the delegation packed its bags and headed home early. But privately, Belgian, American, and other diplomats already had concluded that they needed to find a way to more fully accept a Kabila presidency.

An interested observer who only had access to American public statements and other public documents might have thought that, after the failure of the NDI/IFES mission, the next step by the United States would have been to take the measures outlined above to help Congo regain a democratic path. A potential next action might have been private diplomatic arm-twisting to make it possible for the Secretary of State’s request for a serious review to occur. Such an observer would have been surprised—perhaps shocked—to read about the 15 February 2012 statement to the press by the US Ambassador to the Congo, James Entwistle. Ambassador Entwistle, in the first public pronouncement by the United States on the specific topic of the presidential elections since Secretary Clinton’s statement and the failure of the NDI/IFES mission, said flatly that the United States “recognizes Joseph Kabila as President of the Democratic Republic of the Congo for the next five years.”

In fewer than two months, and after Congolese authorities had thwartedClinton’s called-for review, the US apparently had moved from her nuanced, positive position to an unqualified endorsement of Joseph Kabila as the president of the Congo. With no African institution or nation supporting Secretary Clinton’s call to find a way to “provide more credible results,” with Africa’s states and institutions supporting Joseph Kabila, and with many other Western nations, led by Congo’s former colonial power, Belgium, acquiescing in a purported Kabila victory, American policymakers appear to have concluded that accepting Kabila, although ignoring democracy promotion, was the wiser course.

Many observers disagree with Western policymakers’ view that by recognizing Joseph Kabila they are opting to maintain stability in the Congo. These observers, including this author, argue that a more nuanced analysis leads to the conclusion that the stability interest and democracy value do not conflict. Although challenging, perhaps even changing, the outcome of the 2011 presidential elections would be difficult, and could lead to short-term instability, it is not at all clear that accepting the fraudulent outcome leads to longer-term stability.

Diplomats assert that it will prove possible to accept the fraudulent results of the presidential and parliamentary elections and somehow successfully muddle through the next five years. However, this facile assumption does not survive serious examination given the extraordinary weakness of Congolese institutions and the multiple sources of instability present in and around the Congo.  Many political analysts believe that Kabila emerges from this process seriously weakened by the loss of legitimacy he has suffered and that his political rivals (including some among his own supporters), scenting this weakness, will increasingly chip away at his authority. Without democratic legitimacy, analysts see an ever-weakening Congolese state declining into even deeper poverty, instability, and violence.

Any discussion of next steps should begin by accepting the serious threat to both stability and democracy posed by the November elections’ lack of legitimacy. As of March 2012, Joseph Kabila is not the democratically elected head of the Congolese state. The US Government and other states have not yet digested the implications of what is now apparent:  the sitting head of the Congolese state organized a systematic effort, across multiple provinces, to fraudulently alter and manipulate election results. As in 2006, Joseph Kabila can become the democratically legitimate head of state if and only if a credible, transparent process (such as that called for by Secretary Clinton) would confirm that he indeed had won the election.

The present Congolese election commission is thoroughly corrupt and utterly discredited. Therefore, any move forward must begin with a new, reformed CENI, as called for by the Catholic Bishops of Congo on 11 January 2012. For the CENI to enjoy the credibility it needs to carry out its work, it should be reconstituted with respected, qualified members, and equitable representation from all parties.

A newly constituted, credible electoral commission should, among its initial actions, undertake an examination of the results of the presidential and legislative elections with a view to establishing actual winners and losers. The new commission should use international experts as necessary to assist them in their difficult, critical work. Secretary Clinton’s offer in this regard remains valid and important. In those instances where winners and losers cannot be clearly established, then those elections should be re-voted at the same time as the provincial elections (which probably will occur in late 2012 or early 2013). These steps, if actually taken, would go a long way to correcting the multiple errors and fraud that destroyed the credibility of the November 2011 elections.

If ultimately successful, this process would mean that the Congo would have found its way back onto the democratic path that many—in sharp disagreement with the actions, if not the words, of African and Western governments—see as essential for long term stability and progress in Congo and Central Africa. This is a necessary refocus of United States and international policy for 2012, to establish genuine steps to help the Congolese polity find a way back to democratic legitimacy.

Particularly distressing for many university students in Sudan are unresolved nationality issues. The two governments originally agreed to a nine-month transition period running from 9 July 2011 in which to adopt procedures to enable nationals of the other State to regularize their status, to acquire necessary identification, employment and other relevant documentation.

However, with the end of this transition period approaching next month, few such procedures are in place. For university students from the south who attended universities in the north and students who attended northern branches of southern universities, this has meant that they are unable to graduate or obtain diplomas from their original schools.

Aside from nationality issues, a severe economic crisis and high food inflation contribute to general insecurity in Sudan. Khartoum was built on oil wealth; when Sudan was still united, southern oil comprised 40 percent of the country’s budget. Since the split, Sudan has received neither oil payments nor transit fees.

Combined with the failed promise of international aid to Sudan to help fill budget gaps following the South’s secession, Sudan faces unprecedented economic challenges. These challenges are particularly acute for youth in Sudan and especially those with university education and expectations for the future.

In response to the economic and political weakness of the Sudanese state, youth movements have become more present and active in the last year and a half. There are several different categories of student youth movements in Sudan, with the largest separation being between secularist groups such as Girifna, and the various SPLM-N offshoots and Islamist youth movements.

Each of these movements, like the youth groups of the Arab Spring and Occupy Wall Street use Facebook, Twitter, websites, and cell phones to organize demonstrations and protests. Inspired by last year’s Arab Spring and an already weakened Sudanese state, these various groups are united in their desire for regime change.

Girifna (Arabic for “we are fed up”) was formed on the eve of Sudan’s 2009 elections. As a youth movement, the group insists that while political parties are all about politics, their movement is about giving voice to the common Sudanese. While not supporting a particular opposition group, they are firmly opposed to the current NCP-led government. By pushing for democratic change they seek to “scrub” Sudan of twenty years of undemocratic governance.  To achieve this goal, the group organizes sit-ins and demonstrations, and spreads fliers encouraging democratic participation.

With spotlights from US-based activist organizations like the Enough Project, Girifna has received the majority of Western media attention. However, Islamist youth movements are an equal driving force for change in Sudan. Backed by key Islamic leaders, these groups claim to favor democratization and oppose Sudanese President Omar al-Bashir’s violent tactics, fixed elections, and corruption. In a state with an Islamic majority, they argue, democratization makes more sense than violence.

Despite the common goal of regime change shared by each of these movements, prospects for change in Sudan today through non-violent resistance are not great. Twice in the history of Sudan (in 1964 and 1985) broad popular movements have succeeded in overthrowing regimes (although both failed to establish democratic governance). These revolutions were preceded by political instability and a bankrupt economy similar to what we see in Sudan today. However, the opposition enjoyed a high level of organization that is not present today. This is partially a result of a lack of trust between and within various movements as well as a strong military that is so far loyal to the government. In this way, the situation in Sudan is different from Egypt or Tunisia on the eve of their revolutions. The overthrow of repressive regimes in each of these countries relied heavily on the willingness of army commanders to abandon their presidents, allowing for quick transfers of power with limited bloodshed.

The situation in Sudan more closely resembles that in Syria, where the army has remained mostly loyal, continuing to carry out orders to repress resistance. In Sudan it is highly unlikely that the army will side with civilian movements, largely because of the perceived external threat of the Sudan People’s Liberation Army (SPLA).

In the meantime, students and other Sudanese will continue to experience the frustrations of a state in limbo. During the 4 March demonstration students carried signs that read, “The fate of students must come before oil.” For now these voices remain marginalized.