Bu-lat-lat (boo-lat-lat) verb: to search, probe, investigate, inquire; to unearth facts Volume 3, Number 27 August 10 - 16, 2003 Quezon City, Philippines |
Remilitarizing
Africa for Corporate Profit By
John E. Peck Back
to Alternative Reader Index
This
Spring, in a move that’s probably susceptible to World Trade Organization (WTO)
challenge as an illegal trade barrier—since it enables consumers to
distinguish between goods based upon production/process methods—De Beers
promised to certify that all of its consignments “do not include any diamonds
which come from any area in Africa controlled by forces rebelling against the
legitimate and internationally recognized government of the relevant country.”
Blissfully ignored by the New York Times (3/1/2000) and conveniently
accommodated by De Beers’s new “rebel-free” label is the role diamonds
play in sanctioned corporate militarism across Africa. With 70 percent of the
global diamond market under its control and record sales of $5.24 billion last
year, De Beers has been widely criticized for bankrolling instability across
Africa. Prior to UN sanctions, Angola’s UNITA rebels earned an estimated $4
billion between 1992 and 1998 thanks to diamond smuggling involving De Beers.
For years De Beers also enjoyed exclusive rights to Zaire’s diamond fields,
and this lucrative partnership enabled Mobutu to steal billions from government
accounts, acquire weapons and training for his troops, while securing
multilateral refinancing of Zaire’s foreign debt no less than 16 times. In
early May the U.S. Congress also railroaded through the Africa Growth and
Opportunity Act (AGOA)—aka NAFTA for Africa—as part of a pork barrel
package including elements of the Caribbean Basin Initiative (CBI). Passage was
so quick that representatives didn’t even have a final draft before floor
debate began. Chiquita CEO, Carl Lindner, can take the lion’s share of credit
for this corporate free trade legislation, having greased both Republican and
Democratic palms to the tune of $850,000 in 1998 alone. When Clinton first
unveiled his Trade Not Aid plan during his African safari two years ago, it was
met with scorn and anger by many Africans, who rightly interpreted it as just
another round of neocolonialism. Whereas NAFTA for Africa at least endured some
public debate, its military corollary—the African Crisis Response Initiative (ACRI)—remains
largely immune to democratic accountability. Under ACRI, the Pentagon will
receive an additional $15-20 million per year to ensure “commercial
diplomacy” remains solvent in the coming millennium, even in a volatile
setting like Africa. On his free trade trek, Clinton also boasted about U.S.
corporate profits in Africa topping 35 percent, and David H. Miller, executive
director of the Corporate Council on Africa, heartily concurred in the World
Policy Journal (Summer 1999) “It’s true—it’s high risk, but with
high return.” Following
the botched Mogadishu expedition that cost the U.S. $3 billion and 26 dead by
1994 (plus untold Somali casualties and other “collateral damage”), Clinton
issued presidential decision directive (PDD) #25, limiting future Pentagon
operations in Africa to only those missions directly serving U.S. interests or
stemming conflict that threatened global security. According to Vincent D. Kern
II, deputy assistant secretary of defense for African Affairs, in testimony
before Congress in 1997, the rationale behind ACRI is to assist U.S. African
allies in developing a joint “military capability that would be able to
rapidly assemble and deploy in order to prevent another descent into anarchy and
the needless loss of life.” When Susan Rice left her “peacekeeping”
assignment with the National Security Council (NSC) to become Clinton’s new
Assistant Secretary of State for Africa, it was hard to miss the symbolism
behind her parting souvenir of a Zulu spear and shield. ACRI is supposedly a
scaled-down version of an earlier African Crisis Response Force (ACRF), hatched
through discussions between the NSC, the Pentagon, the State Department, and the
CIA. Despite the name change, its objective remains the same— namely, creation
of a force of 5,000 to 10,000 African “peacekeepers,” trained in joint
exercises on a 60-day rotating basis by the 3rd and 5th U.S. Special Forces
groups, with additional support from the 18th Airborne Corps and Psychological
Operations, as well as civil affairs officers of the Army Special Operations
Command. As might be expected from a superpower, no Africans were consulted
prior to ACRI’s unveiling, and it continues to be peddled by the U.S. on a
“take it or leave it” basis. Total
U.S. foreign spending in sub-Saharan Africa under Clinton/Gore has dwindled to a
paltry $700 million in 1999—less than $3 per U.S. citizen per year—and a
drastic decline from the Reagan/Bush high of $1.8 billion in 1985. During the
Cold War (1959-1989), the Pentagon spent in excess of $1.5 billion on direct
arms transfers and covert military activities in sub-Saharan Africa alone,
supporting brutal dictatorships in Sudan, Uganda, Chad, Zaire, Somalia, and
Liberia, as well as pro-apartheid rebels in Angola and Mozambique. Yet, since
the demise of the “Communist threat,” the U.S. has continued this sordid
trend of bankrolling belligerence in Africa earmarking $227 million for arms
sales and training programs between 1991 and 1998, according to a recent World
Policy Institute report, “Deadly Legacy.” Between 1991 and 1995, over 3,400
African soldiers received U.S. training, 70 percent of which hailed from
dictatorships and other countries in turmoil. Under International Military
Education Training (IMET), the U.S. spent $5.8 million training 400 African
officers in 1998 alone. Thanks to the Pentagon’s newer Joint Combined Exchange
Training (JCET) program, 34 out of the 53 countries on the continent now boast
U.S. military “graduates,” including 8 of the 9 nations behind both sides of
the civil war still raging across Congo. Large quantities of small arms are also
being dumped in Africa under Section 516 of the 1961 Foreign Assistance Act as
Excess Defense Articles (EDA) transfers. Yet, when it came to paying for UN and
Organization of African Unity (OAU) peacekeeping operations in Congo to
implement the Lusaka Peace Accord, the White House had only $2 million to spare.
Billionaire mining magnate and Corporate Council on Africa chairman, Maurice
Templesman, managed to lure the warring sides together on his own with a posh
dinner at the New York City Metropolitan Club. In
Africa such militaries (and insurgents) are financed and equipped through hard
currency sales of officially extracted (and illegally poached) natural resources
like gold, diamonds, and ivory. Horror stories of UNITA and RENAMO rebels
machine-gunning elephants in order to pay off their bills to apartheid advisors
still circulate across the continent. As detailed in Covert Action Quarterly
(Spring/Summer 2000), a veritable carpetbag entourage of corporate mining
executives followed Laurent Kabila’s Alliance of Democratic Forces for the
Liberation of the Congo (ADFL) as it advanced on Kinshasa in the spring of 1997.
America Mineral Fields, based in President Clinton’s home town of Hope,
Arkansas, was first at Kabila’s trough with a supposed $1 billion contract.
Close behind was Bechtel, which issued its own “master plan” for Congo’s
post-Mobutu development, including an export-driven free market economy and a
special place for international financial institutions and their
clients—foreign corporate investors. Much to the chagrin of the U.S., however,
Kabila proved less pliant than expected and by 1998 had switched his allegiance
elsewhere, attracting corporate suitors and their mercenary partners from South
Africa and Zimbabwe. This was clearly not the version of “African solutions to
African problems” that the White House had in mind. Unlike
IMET which has faced widespread criticism for its training of Indonesian troops
responsible for the genocide in East Timor, JCET falls under a little known 1991
law—Section 2011 of Title 10—enabling it to sidestep Congressional oversight
and periodic review by the State Department’s Human Rights Office, thus making
it the Pentagon’s preferred ACRI conduit. One infamous JCET trainee is Rwandan
strongman, Major General Paul Kagame, who allegedly handpicked Kabila to
overthrow Mobutu. Back in 1990 he was enrolled in the Command and General Staff
College at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas when duty called and he had to return home
to take charge of his Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF). Kagame’s sidekick, Lt.
Col. Frank Rusagara, also got his JCET degree at the U.S. Naval School in
Monterey, California. On the eve of the bloodbath that left half a million dead
in the Great Lakes region of central Africa, Kagame put his U.S. expertise to
work, ordering the assassination of his rivals, Rwandan president, Juvenal
Habyarimana, and Burundi’s president, Cyprien Ntaryamira, just as they were
about to conclude multi-ethnic peace negotiations. Iraqi missiles, most likely
captured by U.S forces during the Gulf War and then supplied to Kagame by a
covert Pentagon contractor, were used to shoot down their plane in 1994.
Testimony to this effect in August 1997 before the UN chief war crimes
prosecutor, Louise Arbour, was suppressed and only leaked to the media this
year—see Steven Edward’s expose in Canada’s National Post
(3/1/2000). Yet, to read Clinton apologists like David Shearer in the journal of
the International Institute for Strategic Studies, Survival (Summer
1999), one might think the U.S. was an innocent bystander, rather than a covert
instigator of Africa’s strife. Also
kept under wraps is the fact that for the past five years, U.S. Green Berets
have been arming and coaching Rwandan soldiers, as well as their Ugandan allies
to deadly effect. According to a Washington Post investigation (7/12/98),
Kagame’s troops received low intensity conflict training in such areas as
camouflage, small unit movement, marksmanship, patrolling, night navigation, and
soldier team development, both at Ft. Bragg, SC and in Rwanda. Beyond $12
million in official government-to-government U.S. arms sales to Africa in 1998,
the White House also approved $64 million in private commercial weapons
transfers, including M-16s, pistols, revolvers, rifles, and 10 million rounds of
ammunition. How much of this arsenal ended up in the hands of chronic human
rights abusers, like Kagame, no one will ever know. Critics have pointed to the
Pentagon subcontractor, Ronco—a supposed de-mining company—as the major U.S.
gun runner to Rwanda from 1994 to 1996 in violation of UN sanctions.
Florida-based, Airscan, has also been implicated in funneling Pentagon weapons
for counter-insurgency operations of Uganda’s People’s Defense Force, as
well as to rebels in southern Sudan fighting the Khartoum regime. AirScan
founder, retired Brigadier General Joe Stringham, was responsible for secretive
U.S. counter-insurgency activities against the FSLN during El Salvador’s civil
war. From the current conflicts in Sierra Leone and Liberia, to the protracted
hostility between Ethiopia and Eritrea, U.S. military expertise and weaponry is
being deployed with grisly effect across the continent. As
already shown, ACRI poses no limits on Pentagon hiring of armed proxies to do
its dirty work, and there has been a veritable boom for private security in
Africa since the end of the Cold War. Corporate concessions for mercenary
protections are now “business as usual” throughout much of the continent.
For example, British-based Defense Systems Limited holds contracts not only for
De Beers, but also Texaco, Chevron, Anglo-American and Bechtel in such unstable
countries as Mali, Nigeria, and Angola. Colonial history has seen many examples
of corporate mercenary collaboration. The Dutch East India Co. was one of the
first to employ ex-soldiers from the German state of Wurttemberg back in 1707.
Defying the advice of classical political theorists like Sun Tzu, Machiavelli,
and Weber, even the U.S. is now willing to abdicate its monopoly over the
exercise of lethal force in order to expand its “new world order” of
corporate free trade. Unlike the assassins and thugs of yesteryear, Guy
Arnold in his 1999 book, Mercenaries, observes that today’s hired guns
are being spun as wholesome cost-effective professionals, “claiming, whether
spuriously or not, that they are only prepared to work for legitimate
governments.” Armchair technocrats seem especially enamored with the
retrofitted mercenary, as retired general and White House Director of the Office
of National Drug Control Policy, Barry McCaffrey, gleefully told the Dallas
Morning News (2/17/2000): “I am unabashedly an admirer of
outsourcing…there’s very few things in life you can’t outsource.” In
a 1998 issue of the African Studies Association journal, Issues, William
Reno duly notes that mercenaries must be licensed by the State Department’s
Office of Defense Technology Control and the Pentagon’s Defense Technology
Security Administration before they get their federal contracts. This is
ostensibly to screen out “rogue elements,” reckless freelancers such as the
four U.S. smugglers masquerading as missionaries who got caught entering
Zimbabwe with a large cache of weapons last year. According to one unidentified
State Dept. official quoted in the Nation (7/28/1997), “Training a
military is a lot more than teaching guys how to shoot guns straight…The
companies offer instruction in how to run a military in a democracy,
subordination to civilian control and respect for human rights.” Whether
officially authorized and suitably sanitized or not, such subcontracting of
state terror doesn’t bode well for human rights and civil liberties in a place
like Africa. Once promising leaders that had been hailed by the White House as
harbingers of an “African Renaissance” have since become brutal despots, an
almost inevitable outcome when foreign policy places a premium on corporate free
trade and military law and order, rather than sustainable development and
genuine democracy. Hypocrisy
aside, the geopolitical advantages of corporate militarism are numerous: scant
media coverage, limited public awareness, as well as government deniability when
covert mission scenarios go awry. Few shed tears when soldiers of fortune come
home in bodybags from overseas conflagrations. After all, that’s just the cost
of doing that sort of work, and, besides, no one officially knew about it
anyway. Under the 1949 Geneva Convention, mercenaries lack the POW rights
accorded regular combatants, which is why when Angola’s MPLA captured several
mercenaries back in 1976 there was little global outcry about their showcase
trial and subsequent execution. Executive Outcomes (EO), a South African-based
private defense firm, did suffer 20 casualties fighting UNITA rebels under its
$40 million per year contract with Angola from 1993 to 1995. The emerging
“revolving door” relationship between the Pentagon and approved U.S. private
defense outfits, though, does offer today’s corporate mercenary more
perquisites than ever before. Some even enjoy amenities as embassy guards,
standing in for regular marines in parts of Africa. Such taxpayer-subsidized
military expenditure also happens to be “exempt” from challenge under
Article XXI of the WTO, and some predict a fresh arms race worldwide as ruthless
regimes and greedy companies take advantage of this “free trade” loophole. According
to Pentagon officials, private defense firms hired via ACRI are also safe from
the prying eyes of investigative journalists and concerned citizens, since their
WTO “proprietary rights” supercede such meddlesome national legislation as
the Freedom of Information Act. There
are even more tangible superpower kickbacks from entrepreneurial mercenary
activities, as well. Once African leaders and their soldiers acquire a taste for
certain weaponry, they are likely to continue their addiction and become
dependent on future infusions. The Israel-based security firm, Levdan, not only
propped up Congolese president, Pascal Lissouba, for three years until his
regime was overthrown in 1997, but also brokered a $10 million arms deal between
Jerusalem and Brazzaville. Violent “hot spots” in the south, with their
expendable “soft targets,” remain an ideal proving ground for the latest
arms and tactics emerging from laboratories and thinktanks in the north. CIA
field testing of biochemical warfare techniques, in collaboration with the
Rhodesian regime and apartheid South Africa, triggered Africa’s worst modern
outbreak of human anthrax claiming nearly 100 lives in Zimbabwe in the late
1970s, and this incident is probably just the tip of the iceberg. The School of
the Americas (SOA) has done much to increase death squad efficiency in Latin
America, and ACRI should also modernize oppressive potential in Africa, too.
While the post-Cold War peace dividend remains elusive, the Pentagon has endured
some downsizing as its personnel are made redundant by high-tech weapons of mass
destruction. With a 40 percent decline in Pentagon payrolls since the late
1980s, many career bound soldiers found themselves out of work with no useful
civilian skills. Rather than dump such loyal grunts on the curb, they are
discharged and then kindly referred to a mercenary recruiter. As one Pentagon
insider told the Nation (7/28/1997), “Privatization is another way to
reward the alumni.” One
such “lucky winner” of Pentagon largesse is Military Professional Resources
Inc. (MPRI), which has seen action in Liberia, and snatched EO’s lucrative
Angola contract. Reversing an earlier Reagan/Bush policy of covertly supporting
Savimbi’s UNITA rebels, Clinton extended an olive branch to dos Santos during
a White House visit in December 1995, but at a price. Not only would Angola have
to adopt “free market reforms” favoring U.S. corporations like
Chevron—which controls a third of Angola’s Cabinda Gulf Oil Co.—but it
would also have to switch over to U.S-based mercenaries. Founded in 1987 and
based in Alexandria, VA, MPRI’s personnel listing reads like a Who’s Who of
retired Pentagon brass. According to MPRI spokesperson and former Defense
Intelligence Agency director, Ed Soyster, interviewed in the Dallas Morning
News (2/27/2000), MPRI maintains a database of 11,000 retired U.S. soldiers
available for temporary assignment. MPRI is probably best known for its covert
role behind the Croatian military’s ethnic cleansing of Krajina. An expose in
the Johannesburg Mail and Guardian (10/10/1997) notes that even the lowest grade
mercenary in Angola earns a living wage of $225/day, more than enough for
frequent “holidays” in the brothels and casinos of Sun City. Perusing
MPRI’s website, one finds other mercenary opportunities such as a one-year
stint in Nigeria through ACRI’s “Military Transition Assistance” program,
as well as state-side ACRI positions in Alexandria, VA for “Battalion/Brigade
Staff Training” and “Military Skills Training”— fluency in French
required. Sierra
Leone is another African country notorious for its mercenary activity. In May
1995 with Revolutionary United Front (RUF) forces 20 miles outside of Freetown,
the besieged Strasser regime contracted with EO to turn the tide. By 1997 when
its contract expired, EO and its loyal self-made force of Kamajor fighters had
routed the RUF, and in return EO’s mining affiliate, Branch Energy, was
awarded the concession over the liberated diamond fields. Quoted in Harper’s
(2/1997), retired Canadian General and UN negotiator, Ian Douglas, admits “EO
gave us this stability (in Sierra Leone). In a perfect world, of course, we
wouldn’t need an organization like EO, but I’d be loath to say they have to
go just because they are mercenaries.” Within four month’s of EO’s
departure, soldiers sympathetic to the RUF had overthrown the newly elected
Kabba government. By March 1998, though, Kabbah was back in power, thanks to
$100 million in U.S. military aid to ECOMOG and the intervention of Nigerian
troops, trained and armed by the British private defense outfit, Sandline.
Besides Sandline, U.S.-based ICI is the latest dog of war in Sierra Leone,
protecting politicians, immigrant traders, expatriate employees of relief
agencies like World Vision, as well as the helicopters, vehicles, and
communication equipment of other U.S. corporations like Pacific Architects and
Engineers (PAE). One is left to wonder if Sierra Leone is condemned to a
downward trajectory of cyclical violence as insurgents and mercenaries trade
control over the nation’s diamond heritage. The Washington Post
(4/17/2000) reports that nearly $300 million worth of diamonds were smuggled by
the RUF out of Sierra Leone via Liberia in 1999. When
the Pentagon is not forthcoming with subsidized “on-site” security in
Africa, corporations often take matters into their own hands. As Scott Pegg
reveals in Security Dialogue (December 1999), the Shell Petroleum
Development Company, Royal Dutch Shell’s Nigerian subsidiary, proudly speaks
of its own “Shell Police”—i.e., special detachments of the Nigerian Mobile
Police Force (MPF). One memo even asserts, “it is normal practice in Nigeria
among leading commercial businesses for supernumerary police...to be assigned to
protect staff and facilities.” As early as 1987 Shell began using its vehicles
and helicopters to ferry Nigerian troops to attack villagers protesting the
environmental destruction and social misery wrought by its extractive
activities, and it continues to pay the field allowances for these units. A May
12, 1994 memo from Nigerian Army Major, Paul Okuntimo, couldn’t be more
explicit about this patron-client arrangement: “Shell operations still
impossible unless ruthless military operations are undertaken for smooth
economic activities...pressure on oil companies for prompt regular inputs as
discussed.” Shell subsequently purchased over 100 handguns for its “Kill and
Go” squads and was even negotiating a $500,000 purchase of “upgraded
weaponry” in 1995 until the London-based Observer (2/11/1996) blew the
whistle. Shell refused to intervene when the famous writer and environmentalist,
Ken Saro-Wiwa, was executed along with other Ogoni activists, after being found
“guilty” on trumped-up charges before a secret Nigerian military tribunal in
November 1995. Chevron
has followed Shell’s example in Nigeria, summoning the MPF as early as May
1994 to attack a peaceful boat blockade of one of its facilities, leading to the
drowning of several protesters. On January 4, 1998 Chevron used its helicopters
and boats to carry Nigerian troops to massacre 15 Ijaw villagers. This action
was repeated on May 25 when two protesters occupying a drilling platform were
killed by troops brought by Chevron. Such grassroots resistance had closed 20
drilling sites and reduced Nigerian oil production by a third and the
corporations were eager to resume operations, since Nigeria is one of the
cheapest suppliers in the world with crude extraction costs as low as $3 per
barrel. Facing worldwide criticism and Congressional investigation for its role
in human rights abuses, Chevron countered that because it was only a 40 percent
minority stakeholder in its joint venture with the Nigerian National Petroleum
Corporation, it had no control over how its corporate property was utilized by
the Nigerian military. The White House proved just as impotent when it came to
holding the Nigerian dictatorship accountable. A U.S. trade embargo was
rejected, despite Nigeria’s inordinate dependence on petroleum—80 percent of
the regime’s money comes from crude, and in 1997 the U.S. was Nigeria’s
second largest trading partner, buying $6.3 billion in goods, mostly gas and
oil. Clinton also refused to block private arms transfers and from 1994 to 1995
over $3 million in U.S. weapons managed to reach Lagos. Of course,
Clinton’s friendship with Gilbert Chagoury, a Lebanese tycoon with strong
Nigerian interests, has little influence over U.S. foreign policy decisions at
either the State Department or the Commerce Dept. After all, one shouldn’t
expect too much in return upon joining the ranks of Clinton’s top 200 campaign
contributors with a $460,000 soft money gift to the Democratic Party front group
“Vote Now ‘96.” Providing
an ideological smokescreen for U.S. self-interest is the Africa Center for
Security Studies (ACSS)—another brainchild of Clinton’s “trade not aid”
agenda. Its espoused mission is to “support democratic governance in Africa by
offering senior African civil and military leaders a rigorous academic and
practical program in civil-military relations, national security strategy, and
defense economics.” The ACSS held its first taxpayer-subsidized seminar in
Dakar, Senegal in November 1999, attracting participants from 43 countries,
including 28 generals. In many respects, ACSS appears to be payback for the
Pentagon’s ongoing National Security Education Program (NSEP), through which
U.S. college students, professors, and researchers receive taxpayer money to
conduct reconnaissance work of national security interest in Africa and
elsewhere. For years NSEP awardees were not only expected to “debrief”
their Pentagon patrons on completion of their fieldwork, but also required to
perform up to two years of service for the Pentagon and/or the broader
intelligence community. Given the paucity of other federal funding for language
study and overseas research, some students have unwittingly accepted these
scholarships, quite unaware of their Pentagon sponsorship and obligation.
Between 1994 and 1997, the NSEP funded 35 graduate fellowships and 88
undergraduate fellowships in Africa, as well as three grants to fund
African-related research at Clark University, Washington University/St. Louis,
and UC-Davis. Under ACRI, mercenary companies are also getting taxpayer money
for similar hands-on national security coursework, like MPRI’s intensive three
day “Senior Leader Seminar on Civil-Military Professionalism in a Democracy”
held in Abuja, Nigeria in September 1999 and attended by 68 wannabe civilian
leader military officer types. On
December 11, 1998 5,000 young Nigerian activists drafted the Kaiama Declaration,
stating: “We cease to recognize all undemocratic decrees that rob our people
and communities of the right to ownership and control of our lives and
resources, which were enacted without our participation and consent.” If such
grassroots empowerment constitutes “anarchy,” then it surely is not the
culprit behind Africa’s crisis. In fact, one could argue that a U.S. foreign
policy based upon “commercial diplomacy” and “trade not aid”—i.e.,
corporate militarism—does far more harm, than good, no matter where it is
applied throughout the global south. Most Africans would prefer the U.S. tackle
their real security needs: signing the land mine treaty, removing the time
bombs, and paying for artificial limbs; disarming and punishing human rights
violators and other war criminals; canceling foreign debts accrued
illegitimately by corrupt dictators and their business cronies; suspending World
Bank/IMF structural adjustment programs (SAPs) and doing away with the draconian
authority of the WTO; as well as supporting—both politically and
financially—UN/OAU refugee, peacekeeping, and relief operations. Closer
to home, U.S. advocates for Africa are calling for repeal of both “NAFTA for
Africa” and ACRI; a complete moratorium on U.S. weapon sales, training, and
mercenary subcontracting; government and corporate accountability for human
rights abuses; as well as reprioritizing U.S. development assistance to address
basic human needs such as healthcare, education, sustainable agriculture, and
environmental protection. Following the example of post-apartheid house
cleaning, the U.S. should also convene its own “Truth Commission” to expose
and judge Washington policymakers, hell bent to “win” the Cold War, who
inflicted so much death and misery on Africa. It’s hard to imagine a
worse case of a self-declared democratic superpower shirking its historic
obligation to an entire continent and its people. Rep. Chris Smith (R-NJ) has
found one sobering maxim from his review of U.S.-Africa policy, which he shared
with Congress back in July 1998, “The first rule should be that the U.S. does
not give any kind of military assistance whatever to governments that murder
their own people.” John E. Peck is a graduate student at UW-Madison, who has visited Africa many times in the last decade and is also a member of the Association of Concerned African Scholars. Bulatlat.com We want to know what you think of this article.
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