READING MATERIAL FOR POLI 458: IDENTITY AND POLITICS IN GHANA

CHAPTER 2

Political Conflict and Elite Consensus in the First Decade of Ghana’s Fourth Republic 

[Originally published as: Alexander K. D. Frempong (2007) “Political Conflict and Elite Consensus in the Liberal State”, in Kwame Boafo-Arthur, ed. Ghana: One Decade of the Liberal State, London/Dakar: Zed/CODESRIA Books, pp.128-164].

Introduction

Ghana returned to constitutional rule in 1993 after a turbulent eleven-year rule of an authoritarian military-cum-civilian Provisional National Defence Council (PNDC) under the chairmanship of Flt. Lt. Jerry John Rawlings who eventually became the first president of the Fourth Republic. He was leader of the National Democratic Congress (NDC) which had been formed to contest the multiparty elections held in 1992. Rawlings completed his two constitutional terms of eight years as President when his party lost the 2000 elections.

It may be argued, and justifiably so, that a decade is a relatively short time to assess the successes and failures of a democratic experiment. But for Ghana this is the very first time in its nearly five decades’ history that constitutional governance has crossed the ten-year finishing line. It has witnessed a civilian government completing its two terms of office and a change of regime, (or is it a shift in the balance of power?), from one political party to another. The very fact that this latest attempt at democracy began on very shaky foundations but has succeeded thus far is a short story in itself. This achievement is made even more dramatic firstly because the process of democratization in post Cold War Africa has witnessed deadlocks, reverses, failures and mounting complexities (Conteh-Morgan 1997: 1); and secondly because Ghana is in a sub-region which over the last decade has been far better known for violent civil conflict than democracy and development. The extent to which this feat has been achieved through the interplay of political conflict and elite consensus is the thrust of this chapter.

After an introductory theoretical discourse of political conflict and elite consensus, this work outlines the conflict-consensus nexus to Ghana’s transitional process; examines issues of conflict and consensus within and among governmental institutions during the eight year Rawlings presidency; and the new issues that have been thrown up since the accession of John Kufuor and his New Patriotic Party (NPP) to power following the 2000 elections. The paper concludes by distilling some lessons from the Ghanaian experience.

Theoretical Issues

Liberal Democracy

A major postulate of liberal democracy is that for the management of state affairs, there should be an open and free field of members of society to compete to exercise power to control and manage the material resources of the state for and on behalf of the entire citizenry.  This is irrespective of race, religion, gender or political conviction (Hagan 1995: 83).  Again, all governments rest on some mixture of coercion and consent but democracies are unique in the degree to which their stability depends upon the consent of a majority of those governed (Diamond, Linz & Lipset 1995: 9).

More significant for our purposes here is the fact that democracy has as its central paradox conflict and consensus. This manifests in several forms:

While democracy entails a set of rules for managing conflict, this conflict must be managed within certain limits and result in compromises, consensus or other agreements that all sides accept as legitimate. An overemphasis on one side of the equation can threaten the entire undertaking. Democracy, therefore, must find a mechanism to mitigate conflict and cleavage with consensus (Diamond & Plattner 1999: xiii).

Democracy is by nature a system of institutionalized competition for power. Without competition and conflict, there is no democracy. But any society that sanctions political conflict runs the risk of becoming so conflict-ridden that civil peace and stability can be jeopardized.

In-between elections, citizens must be able to influence public policy through various non-electoral means like interest group associations and social movements, which invariably involve cooperation and competition among citizens.

Democracy implies dissent and division, but on the basis of consent and cohesion. It requires that the citizens assert themselves, but also that they accept the government’s authority.

A democratic society needs the commitment of citizens who accept the inevitability of conflict as well as the necessity for tolerance. To develop a democratic culture, individuals and groups must be willing, at a minimum, to tolerate each other’s differences, recognizing that the other side has a valid right and a legitimate point of view.

Coalition building is the essence of democratic actions. It teaches interest groups to negotiate with others, to compromise and to work within the constitutional system. By so doing groups with differences learn how to argue peaceably, how to pursue their goals in a democratic manner and ultimately how to live in a world of diversity.

In short, in a democracy, a balance must be found between competing values; and political actors must cooperate in order to compete. To be effective and stable, there must be the belief in the legitimacy of democracy, tolerance for opposition parties, a willingness to compromise with political opponents, pragmatism and flexibility, trust in the political environment, cooperation among political competitors, moderation in political positions and partisan identifications, civility of political discourse and efficacy and participation based on the principles of political equality (Diamond, Linz and Lipset 1995: 19).

Political Conflict

Conflict has traditionally been viewed as dysfunctional, destructive and damaging, a generally undesirable by product of life. But conflict is an inevitable and inescapable reality; a normal and even healthy part of life. As a result, all stable societies evolve legitimate organizations, rules, norms and procedures for conflict management. In a democracy, the established institutions mediate conflict in a systematic way with the aim of achieving consensus through dialogue and bargaining. Political parties, pressure groups, parliaments, elections and the judiciary are among the overarching institutions that mediate the wide variety of conflicts in such societies. Political institutionalization, therefore, is strongly related to the stability of democracy.  According to Diamond and others, “institutions structure behaviour into stable, predictable and recurrent patterns; institutionalized systems are less volatile and more enduring, so are institutionalized democracies” (Diamond, Linz & Lipset 1995: 33). However, culturally heterogeneous societies present particularly difficult problems in the design of institutions that would channel conflicts into the framework of a rule-governed interplay of interests (Przeworski et al 1995: 107).

The most important intra-elite conflict is the competition for political power that usually takes the form of electoral competition using the party system. In older democracies, where these issues have been settled long ago, disagreements related to them are resolved administratively by the authorities responsible for elections; the rules governing competition have been institutionalized; and the pursuit of power not a zero-sum game and therefore not fatally divisive. In new democracies, however, the most ordinary issues are often politicized; the contest for power itself is winner-takes-all (Ninsin 1995:66).  Under such circumstances, the vicious cycle of political distrust and coercion remain intact because to cooperate with ones ‘enemies’ is to invite ones own destruction (Higley and Burton 1988: 115). The tensions and acrimony that characterize the electoral process in new democracies, then, are largely due to institutional vacancy –lack of the required level of institutionalization of intra-elite conflict management (Higley and Burton 1988: 115; Ninsin 1995:66).

Hagan (1995: 84- 85) also makes the following insightful points about political conflict in the context of liberal democracy:

That the existence of diverse and conflicting values and interests creates severe cleavages in society as social forces align themselves and confront each other for power and dominance in the quest to satisfy their needs. But then “all conflictual features of democratic governance reach a climax in a free democratic election, the event par excellence that gives a democratic system its unique and peculiar character”.

That the citizens’ freedom and power to reject rulers in an election does not only engender strife, but also releases tensions and suspense and creates collective catharsis that provides communal healing and reduces conflicts.

And that in a democratic election, the enacted battle should be with ballots and not bullets to ensure that the vanquished survive with the victors, leaving open the possibility of turning fortunes around. The contest should not be such that the victors would leave their opponents so prostrate as not to be able to stand and mount a credible challenge.

On the whole, while democracy makes conflicts inevitable it provides a system for managing and settling dispute through articulation and exchange of views and the possibility of peaceful change.

Elite Consensus

New Elite theorists argue that the cohesion of a state’s elite helps to determine the state’s democratic progress (Gould & Szomolanyi 1997). They emphasize that a prerequisite of stable democracy is that elites agree on the parameters of the democratic political system and that where they fail to unify behind the concepts of democratic norms and procedures as the ‘only game in town’, the viability of democratic institutions is endangered creating a situation where some elites may prefer to attempt to rule by non-democratic means rather than forego their claims to power (Ibid).

Elites, according to Burton and Higley (1987), “are people who are able, by virtue of their authoritative positions and powerful organizations and movements of whatever kind, to affect national political outcomes regularly and substantially.”  It is because of this disproportionate power and influence of the elites that they matter most for the stability and consolidation of democracy, not only in their behaviour but also in their beliefs.

Elite beliefs and norms are usually important because, first, they are more likely to have elaborate systems of political beliefs; more likely to be guided in their actions by their beliefs and have more influence over political events. Second, elites also play a crucial role in shaping political culture and in signaling what kinds of behaviour are proper. Third, elites lead partly by example, good or bad; when they are contemptuous of the rules and norms of democracy their followers are more likely to be as well (Diamond & Plattner 1999: 66). But it must be emphasized that the political culture of bargaining, accommodation and constitutionalism must not be confined to the elite level rather the elites must reach out to the masses and to raise their political consciousness, develop democratic practices and mobilize participation (Diamond Linz & Lipset 1995: 20).

Elite consensus measures elites by the extent to which they share similar views and by their degree of access to crucial decision making. At the two extremes are strongly unified elites and divided or disunified elites (Burton and Higley 1989: 9). Strongly unified elites are characterized, firstly, by tacitly shared consensus about the rules and codes of political conduct and restrained partisanship; and secondly, by relatively reliable and effective access to each other and the most central decision makers. They view politics as a positive-sum game, which if played by the rules, will lead to benefits in the long run- even in the face of setbacks at the polls (Ibid). The two features above are virtually absent among weakly unified elites. They retain neither shared understanding of the rules of the game, nor consistent and reliable access to key decision-makers. They are either ‘in’ or ‘out’ and for them; politics is a zero-sum game that must often be ‘waged’ as vigorously and brutally as on a battlefield. Thus, divided elites, starkly and paradoxically, remind us that democracy works only where the outcome doesn’t matter to induce groups to use other means to attain their ends (Gould & Szomolanyi 1997). Between the two extremes lies a whole range of mixed motive games and behaviour including temporary alliances, balances of power and logrolling of interests at the expenses of the rest of society (Ibid).

Scholars of the New Elite framework further contend that until settlement between elites is achieved either by one time historic compromise or through gradual transformation, a stable democracy is unlikely. Thus divided elites must struggle over and settle on procedural consensus before the prospects for sustainable democracy will exist. Under the circumstances, political opponents do not necessarily have to like each other, but they must tolerate one another and acknowledge that each has a legitimate and important role to play. The ground rules of society must encourage tolerance and civility in public debate. No matter who wins elections in a democratic system, both sides must agree to cooperate in solving the common problems of society. The losers must know that they will not lose their lives or go to jail. Instead, the opposition must continue to participate in public life with the knowledge that its role is equally essential; and that it is loyal to the fundamental legitimacy of the state and to the democratic process itself. Higley and Burton put this more succinctly: ‘Although the groups are forever quarrelling, an operational code of ‘give to get’ eschews mutually destructive struggles’ (Higley and Burton 1988: 98).

Transition from an authoritarian regime towards a democratic order presupposes progress in the direction of elite consensus in the form of an elite pact. O’Donnell and Schmitter (1986: 37) define a pact as:

(A)n explicit but not always publicly explicated or justified, agreement among a select set of actors which see to…redefine rules governing the exercise of power on the basis of  mutual guarantees for the vital interest of those entering it.

An elite pact may be as a result of a decline in the ability of the ruling group to control society by force or the broader elite realization that continued entrenched positions among the elites serves nobody’s interest. But the important fact is that it seeks to reconcile the core values of contending factions in society. Again, such a pact may have undemocratic elements such as the granting of amnesty to the incumbent/outgoing regime, but at the core is a negotiated agreement by key political contenders to abide by the newly-crafted democratic framework. It is in these respects that an elite pact represents a significant step towards elite consensus. However, it does not necessarily mean that actual elite consensus has been achieved. This is because elites can come to a tactical compromise out of mutual self interest without reconciling their fundamental values and beliefs.  This can render pacts mere short-term tactical agreements among elites. Thus, while elite pacts or settlements may generate tacitly accommodative and overtly restrained practices among competing political elites, they may continue to hold on to their most cherished beliefs (Gould & Szomolanyi 1997; O’Donnell and Schmitter 1986: 37; Higley and Burton 1988: 115).

Consensus is more than the sum total of ideas of the individuals in a group. During debate, ideas build one upon the next, generating new ideas until the best decision emerges. This dynamic is called the creative interplay of ideas. Creativity plays a major part in discussing what is best for the group and the more people are involved in this cooperative effort the more ideas and possibilities are generated. In this respect, the persistent, indiscriminate and uncompromising application of parliamentary majority (that has characterized both the NDC and NPP administrations) is inherently confrontational and not consensual. The goal has often been winning the vote, regardless of another choice that might be in the interest of the whole group; it resorts to the power of domination instead of persuasion. When the will of the majority supercedes the concerns of the minority, it is inherently conflictual. Consensus strives to take into account every disagreement and resolve them before a decision is made. More importantly, this process encourages an environment in which everyone is respected and all contributions are valued (http://www.consensus.net/occac1.html).

The foregoing theoretical discourse provides a framework for assessing issues of conflict and consensus among the political elites in the first decade of Ghana’s Fourth Republic.

Brief Historical Background

Ghana’s post independence history began in March 1957 with a liberal democratic rule which soon degenerated into a quasi dictatorship; and as a result, the first military coup of 1966 (Gyimah- Boadi 2000: 2). In the subsequent one and half decades, Ghana made two other brief attempts at liberal democracy between 1969 and 1972 and 1979 and 1981, each overthrown after twenty seven months. In the latter instance, Flight Lieutenant Jerry Rawlings, who assumed the reigns of power for a hundred and twelve days in 1979 and handed over to the civilian administration of President Hilla Limann and his People’s National Party staged a comeback on Christmas Eve of 1981. The new ruling group, the Provisional National Defence Council (PNDC), also under Rawlings’ chairmanship, in spite of its name stuck to power for eleven years until 7 January 1993 when Ghana embarked on the current experiment under the 1992 Constitution, and whose first decade is under scrutiny in this project.

The PNDC, unlike the various military regimes before it, had, almost from the beginning, given strong indication of wanting to stay much longer in power. It doggedly refused to bind itself to time, choosing to refer to itself and its actions as part of an indefinite political process ostensibly to implement a so called participatory, grassroots democracy that had a disdain for multiparty politics (Gyimah-Boadi 1991:36; Ninsin 1998: 6)

Against this background, the PNDC only reluctantly conceded to constitutional rule under pressure from external and domestic forces, early 1990s. On the international front, the pro-democratic trend of the post-Cold War era had begun to have contagious effect across Africa (Gyimah-Boadi 1991: 35; Ninsin  1998:14); while locally there were persistent and increasing demands from various civil society groups for change and political reform, after the almost decade-long culture of silence under PNDC rule.The PNDC leaders then were unwilling coverts that were bent on ensuring that it crafted a transition programme that would leave their interest virtually intact. In addition, given its abysmal human rights record the regime had genuine fears of its physical security once it surrendered power. This explains to a large extent the deliberate slowness, foot dragging and evasiveness that characterized the latest Ghanaian transition to constitutional rule. The special interest the incumbent regime had in the outcome of the transition produced the heightened tensions and the unprecedented lack of compromise that became the hallmark of the process. It should thus be clear that the ruling elite in Ghana co-opted democracy to the service of its political ambitions. And the whole scenario fits what Ake has aptly described as ‘the paradox of democratization’:

  (T)hat those have power tendentially have no interest or inclination to democratize, for democratization entails the redistribution of power against those who are in power and those who are privileged. When such people support democracy it is usually for some countervailing compulsion (CODESRIA, 2000:70)

The Transition Programme

One major area of conflict in a transition process is agreeing on its modalities. In the Ghanaian context, this was a much contested matter. It was characterized by inconsistencies, biases and uncertainties. The PNDC refused to spell out a clear timetable for the transition. It packed the constitution-drafting Consultative Assembly with pro-government ‘identifiable bodies’ at the virtual exclusion of those with anti-government views.  It also refused to grant general political amnesty, release political detainees or repeal repressive laws; and kept a tight control of the whole process by refusing to place it in the hands of any other body apart from its own National Commission on Democracy (NCD) (Gyimah-Boadi 1991: 37- 40).

Conteh-Morgan (1997:77- 80) argues that when the need to cooperate to democratize becomes a fait accompli, the incumbent regime must find means of managing the inhibiting effects of political insecurity. Operating in a situation of adversarial cooperation, an incumbent regime may assess the transitional arrangements in the context of worse case projections and take measures that yield it the greatest absolute gains at the expense of its rivals. In the context of the transition programme under review, the threat to the incumbent PNDC regime was aggravated by the ultra conservative utterances of the opposition. Under such political uncertainty, the PNDC also decided that the incumbent military ruler, for the first time in the country’s history, should contest the presidency. This in effect turned the incumbent regime into a referee and a player at the same time. For the PNDC, therefore, the transition programme was a preparation for self-succession.

The PNDC in line with its agenda took several actions in the 1990-92 period without consultation. These included organization of regional fora to collate views on a new democratic order; the drafting of a new constitution; the establishment of the electoral body; the politial party’s law and dates for various phases of the transition (Bluwey 1998: 108-111; Nisin 1998: 55-59; Gyimah-Boadi 1991:37).

Political and civil society groups, no doubt, protested against several, if not all, of those unilateral decisions. But more significant was the consensus that such protests brought among groups of varying backgrounds and sometimes traditional political foes. For instance, the Movement for Freedom and Justice (MFJ), vocal critics of the transition process, had in its leadership elements of the two political traditions of Nkrumahists and Danquah-Busiasts as well as elements of political groups ranging from those with moderate to extreme left wing orientations (Ninsin 1998: 58).  The PNDC government, operating with towering political power and with the muscle of the paramilitary organs, blithely ignored all these protestations and demands. Yet the opposition forces, like the PNDC, campaigned during the April 1992 referendum for the acceptance of the constitution; hoping that they could still compete fairly and wrestle power from the PNDC.

The position of the opposing forces was further weakened following the lifting of the ban on party politics. The various political groups and civic associations that had hitherto been active and vociferous in the politics of the transition metamorphosed into different political parties, largely along their traditional orientations. They net effect was that later when several of the new parties came together to form a loose Alliance of Democratic Forces, to oppose the PNDC-created National Democratic Congress (NDC) and its allies demanding, inter alia, the formation of an interim government, dissolution of the PNDC paramilitary organs, replacement of the electoral register and the reconstitution of the INEC (Ibid), they had lost too much steam to be effective.

This discussion of the politics of the transition process forms the bedrock of issues of conflict and consensus over the following decade.

The 1992 Elections and Aftermath

The November 1992 presidential election resulted in a 58.3 percent victory for Rawlings and the NDC which had gone into electoral alliance with the National Convention Party (NCP) and the Every Ghanaian Living Everywhere (EGLE).  The other contesting parties –the New Patriotic Party (NPP), People’s National Convention (PNC), National Independence Party (NIP) and People’s Heritage (PHP) - denounced the presidential contest as fraudulent. The immediate post-presidential election situation was chaotic. The results triggered a spate of violence and left a trail of widespread mistrust of the electoral process (Gyimah-Boadi 1998: 105).

The four defeated political parties stuck together and made fresh demands for a more even playing field as conditions for their participation in the then pending parliamentary and future elections. Some of these conditions were an interim government to supervise the rest of the transition, a new voters register, a new Electoral Commission whose membership would include representatives of the political parties (Oquaye 2001: 4). In the midst of the confusion, a high-powered government delegation for the first time met the opposition parties in an attempt to achieve consensus. This was facilitated by the National House of Chiefs and Christian and Muslim religious bodies (Pioneer, 26 November 1992). This attempt at reintegrating the opposition into the political process did not succeed because of entrenched positions on both sides but at least, it indicated an acknowledgement of the need for some basic agreement.

The parliamentary election, originally scheduled for the first week of December was shifted to the end of that month, but the opposition parties which had jointly announced their withdrawal, carried out their threat and boycotted (Jonah 1998: 87; Oquaye 2001: 4).  As a result, the three parties forming the Progressive Alliance-NDC, NCP an EGLE contested and filled the 200-member Parliament with two independent candidates.

The implications of this state of affairs were many for both the ruling alliance and the defeated parties.  It was a clear manifestation of a flawed transition that risked disrupting the cherished democratic order. For instance, the opposition was absent from the inaugural ceremony on 7 January 1993. Thus the first government of the Fourth Republic was born out of bitter controversy and its inauguration a distinctly partisan affair (Bluwey 1998: 114).  At the same time, the boycott put some pressure on the various stakeholders to secure some form of consensus. This, to some extent, explains why political conflict in the first term in the Fourth Republic did not become as acrimonious and destabilizing as the immediate post-election indicators showed.

On the part of the government, the boycott produced a virtual one party parliament since the three parties that contested were offshoots of the same family tree (Bluwey 1998: 114). fromOn the surface this looked good for the consolidation of power by the government, but the exceptionally low voter turn out of 29 percent in the parliamentary election reduced the legitimacy of the whole transition process. It became obvious that if the young political order was not secured on the basis of consensus among the political elites, the new government like its predecessor would suffer from a crisis of legitimacy. Above all, the vacuum arising from the lack of consensus could encourage another group of adventurers to seize power again and completely reverse the whole process.

For the opposition parties their withdrawal from the parliamentary election had two broad impacts: a greater pressure on them to achieve consensus with the NDC government and the need for alternative strategies to enhance their political effectiveness.

In the first instance, consensus was needed on the rules of the electoral contest to ensure a smooth transfer of power from one leadership to another in future and also to inspire confidence in the multi party system. Continued or prolonged disagreement over the rules of electoral politics and elite succession could lead to militant and radical action from sections of the lower classes. There was also the possibility that if the stand-off with the Rawlings government remained unresolved, the government might seize the opportunity to perpetuate itself in power (Ninsin 1998: 187).

Secondly the withdrawal from the parliamentary contest effectively excluded the opposition from the central political platform of the new constitutional order. The right to vote against objectionable legislation was completely forfeited and the chance to put up staunch opposition to unacceptable policies of the executive was lost. They therefore needed to adjust to their self-exclusion to get the government to listen to them, to influence government policy and prevent the creation of a one-party state by default (Jonah 1998: 87).

It was against this background that early in 1993, the defeated parties came up with an Inter-Party Co-ordinating Committee and promised the nation a ‘shadow cabinet’ outside Parliament to monitor the activities of the government. They appealed to the government to consult them on major national issues and urge their supporters to accept the NDC government and post election situation for the sake of peace (Uhuru Vol. 5 No.7, 1993). These initial collective moves however, did not produce much positive response and soon the opposition groups went their separate ways along the traditional political divide- the Danquah-Busia NPP on its own and the Nkrumahist ones- PHP, NIP, PNC, etc, going into a series of unity talks.

The NPP in the mean time had issued a report, The Stolen Verdict, which contained hundreds of detailed allegations of irregularities in 100 of the 200 constituencies (Sandbrook and Oelbaum 1999:13); but the main opposition party established its relevance in the first year and made up for its absence from parliament by waging its battles in the courts. This in effect turned the judiciary into a theatre for political struggle (Jonah 1998: 88). The fact is that with the stymied political process, the role of the Supreme Court became crucial as issues which would ordinarily be mediated through the political process had to be ‘legalised’ and ‘constitutionalised’ through the mediation of the judiciary (Kotey 1995: 279).

The NPP in several constitutional cases obtained favourable Supreme Court rulings. Four of these rulings were outstanding:

The case of the New Patriotic Party v Ghana Broadcasting Corporation related to the obligation of the state-owned media to be fair to all shades of opinion and to afford equal opportunity for the expression of a plurality of views and divergent opinion. The GBC had failed to cover the NPP’s response to the 1993 budget after it had for two days broadcasted a forum on the same budget by the Finance Minister. The Supreme Court unanimously upheld the claims of the NPP and ordered the GBC to offer the NPP the same facilities that it has previously given the government (Kotey 1995: 288-290).

The NPP v Inspector General of Police involved the interplay of public order and the excesses and misuse of police powers and the right to freedom of assembly and political activity guaranteed under the Constitution. The Supreme Court again adjudged that the system of permits under the Public Order Decree was inconsistent with the 1992 Constitution (Ibid: 295-297).

In the NPP v Electoral Commission & Annor the Supreme Court declared  by unanimous vote that the District Assemblies as constituted in 1993 were not competent to hold meetings for approving candidates for appointment as District Chief Executives (Ibid: 302-306).

In the NPP v Attorney General, the NPP sought an order to stop the celebration of 31 December (the date of Rawlings’ Revolution) as public holiday. The Supreme Court, by a majority of 5:4, ruled that the public commemoration and financing of an event that signified the violent overthrow of a constitutionally elected government was against the letter and spirit of the Constitution (Ibid: 297-302). This last decision triggered a series of events that impacted heavily on the judiciary itself through the Abban Affair (discussed below).

By these victories the NPP established clearly that while not in Parliament it still possessed the capacity to influence or check the political conduct of the government. In Jonah’s view, it was as if the NPP was telling the NDC ‘You got us at the polls; we’ve got you in court’ (Jonah 1998: 88).

The legal battles notwithstanding, the strongest signal, in the first year of constitutional rule, of opposition willingness to dialogue with the NDC government came from NPP  when its leadership floated the idea of ‘doing business with the government’. By this the NPP indicated its willingness to settle its differences with the NDC through negotiation rather than confrontation and non-cooperation, and in so doing to build the necessary consensus over the rules of political competition and elite succession. The main reason for the pursuit of dialogue, according to NPP Chairman da Rocha, was to search for genuine and sincere national reconciliation (Boafo-Arthur 1995:220; Ninsin 1998:188).

This ‘Doing Business’ strategy, evoked strong criticisms from within the party; and ridicule from the other opposition parties. Given the (P)NDC’s track record of non cooperation and non compromise, the general perception was that the NPP initiative was misguided. But it was generally in line with the view that:

The birth of democracy creates a dilemma for the opposition: how much to oppose and by what means. If the opposition does oppose vigorously, democracy may be threatened … (an) intransigent opposition may create an ungovernable situation. As a result political forces often seek to establish a pact, an agreement that distribute offices (or) to pursue particular policies. (Pzreworski et al 1995: 54).

The NPP and the NDC held a couple of meetings at which the electoral process, inter-party relationships and the mass media were discussed and joint committees proposed. By the end of 1993, however, the new-found friends fell apart amid accusations and counter-accusations. The NPP accused the NDC of foot-dragging and the utilization of the dialogue as a gimmick to score cheap political points. For the NDC, the whole thing was a non-starter when the NPP refused to withdraw The Stolen Verdict. Under the circumstances, the presence of a mediator of some sorts would have been useful.  Worse still, the two parties could not take substantive decisions on most issues discussed in the absence of the other political parties (Boafo-Arthur 1995: 220-225). In spite of its shortcomings, the NDC-NPP dialogue became the forerunner of the Inter-Party Advisory Committee that achieved so much elite consensus before the 1996 elections (see below).

On their part, the defeated Nkrumahist parties –PNC, PHP, and NIP- together with other groups like the Concerned Nkrumahist Unity Caucus, and the People’s Party for Development and Democracy (PPDD), which had not registered in 1992 sought to unify their ranks. A technical committee was established for the purpose of creating a new united Nkrumahist party. But unity would elude the group for a long time. For instance, Dr. Hilla Limann, the leader of the PNC did not join the unity talks but several leading members of his party did (Jonah 1998: 88). When eventually a new party was minted in the form of the People’s Convention Party (PCP), it was made up the groups which began the unity talks and a large section of the NCP led by Vice President Arkaah who had abrogated its alliance with the NDC. The PNC continued to stay out.

The Electoral Commission and Consensus Building

Against the background of the disputed 1992 election and with key political actors and their supporters deeply mistrustful of the electoral process, the election authorities faced formidable challenges of building both confidence and credibility.

With the inauguration of the Fourth Republic, the life of the largely discredited INEC officially came to an end. And a new 7-member Electoral Commission was inaugurated in August 1993. Its composition and powers were provided for in the Constitution and amplified by statute. Apart from its responsibility for conducting elections, delimiting electoral constituencies, compiling and updating of voters’ register, voter education and registration of political parties, it was empowered to make regulations by constitutional instrument for the effective performance of its functions (1992 Constitution, Articles 43-54). The existence of a body of laws and explicit rules and regulations provided the Electoral Commission with a measure of insulation and put the body in a stronger position lawfully to resist undue external pressures and interference in its work. Above all, the laws formed the framework for the resolution of the electoral conflicts.

These changed circumstances and donor assistance enabled the EC to embark on a comprehensive programme of reforming the electoral process and enhancing credibility. But suspicion and mistrust of the election authority as an independent and impartial arbiter lingered in part because the procedure for appointing the commissioners still allowed for significant degree of presidential influence but more so because a deputy chairman, Dr. K. Afari-Gyan and a commissioner, David Kanga, both of the defunct INEC were ‘promoted’ Chairman and Deputy Chairman respectively of the new EC (Gyimah-Boadi 1999: 108; Jeffries 1998: 197).

The EC saw a clear need for electoral reforms with a view to achieving greater transparency in all aspects of the election process and sought to create popular faith in the ballot and to build confidence in the EC itself. Thus the EC, like the government and the opposition parties, as earlier indicated, was under some pressure to seek consensus. The most important mechanism for managing distrust of the EC by the opposition parties and among the various political parties was the innovative Inter-Party Advisory Committee (IPAC). The EC through the IPAC co-opted the parties into the process of election management from March 1994. The IPAC brought together representatives of the political parties to regular monthly meetings with the EC to discuss and build consensus on contested electoral issues (Ayee 1997: 10).

The IPAC offered a two-way channel of information for both the EC and the parties. It enabled the EC to discuss all aspects of its programmes and activities with the parties, elicit inputs and address problems, protests and disagreements whenever they were aired. And the parties were able to express their views freely and openly about EC programmes and activities and to bring their concerns on the table. The IPAC process, no doubt, had its hiccups but it succeeded in achieving compromise solutions to such contested matters as a single day for both parliamentary and presidential elections; photo ID cards, transparent ballot boxes; and gained the active involvement of the party agents in the registration exercise as observers (Ibid: 10-11). It must also be emphasized to the credit of the EC that although the IPAC was purely advisory and non-statutory and its decisions not binding on the EC, it gave serious attention to those decisions that were practical, legal and cost effective (Badu and Larvie 1996).

By succeeding to bring the ‘warring factions’ to the ‘peace’ conference table, therefore, the EC through IPAC fulfilled one of the pre-requisites for consolidated democracy - elite consensus, i.e. a disposition toward compromise, flexibility, tolerance, conciliation, moderation and restraints among elites through both formal and informal communication networks (Higley and Gunther 1995; Ayee 1998: 157).

Contested Issues (1993-1996)

The consensual state of affairs at the IPAC had moderating influence on the 1996 elections. Meanwhile, there were several other contested issues in the 1993-1996 period.

VAT, AfC, ‘Kume Preko’

In a democratic society, citizens have a right to gather peacefully and protest the policies of their government or the actions of other groups with demonstrations, marches, petitions, boycotts, strikes and other forms of direct citizen actions. Protests, indeed, are a testing ground for any democracy. The ideals of free expression and citizen participation are easy to defend when everyone remains polite and in agreement on basic issues. But protesters and their targets do not agree on the basic issues and such disagreements may be passionate and angry. The challenge then is one of balance: to defend the right to freedom of speech and assembly, while maintaining public order and countering attempts at intimidation or violence. To suppress peaceful demonstrations in the name of order is in a sense repressive; to permit uncontrolled violent protest is to invite anarchy. There is however no magic formula for achieving this balance. To a large extent, it would depend on the dominant forces of the day.

It is against this background that we examine the three related issues of the introduction of the Value Added Tax (VAT) bill, the formation of the Alliance For Change (AFC) and its Kume Preko demonstrations of the first half of 1995. The NDC government had introduced as part of its budgetary policy for 1995 a new tax system, the Value Added Tax (VAT) which imposed a 15% tax on selected goods and services. But because it was implemented with little or no public education, sellers of exempted goods like food increased their prices in the name of VAT. The resultant hardships led to the formation of Alliance for Change (AfC) - a coalition of opposition forces from the Nkrumahist and the Danquah/ Busiast camps – to protest against the VAT. On 11 May 1995, the AFC begun the first in a series of peaceful demonstrations scheduled to take place in all regional capitals dubbed Kume Preko in Accra. The delicate balance between the citizens’ right to demonstrate and the government’s responsibility to maintain order took a violent toll when an alleged government sponsored counter-demonstration led to the death of four of the protesters in cold blood. Though the AFC eventually succeeded in getting the government to withdraw the VAT, the deaths were never fully investigated. More significantly, the successes of the AFC brought to the fore the need for an alliance of all opposition forces to contest Rawlings and the NDC in the 1996 elections.

The Arkaah Factor

The composition of the first parliament following the opposition boycott of the 1992 election meant that the rivalry and conflictual relations that had existed between parliament and executive in the Third Republic was virtually absent. The NCP tried unsuccessfully to play the role of the minority in parliament because of its small size of eight members and its role as a junior partner in the ruling alliance. Thus most often the only discordant voices that could be heard were those from two independent candidates. But perhaps in a balancing act, this near-perfect consensus between the executive and the legislature was marched by inter-personal acrimony of unprecedented proportions within the presidency between President Rawlings and Vice President Arkaah.

Arkaah had in 1992 cunningly wrestled the leadership of the NCP from its founder Kwaku Boateng and virtually sold it to the NDC in an alliance which earned him the vice presidency. But the Vice President found his party increasingly sidelined by the NDC; and himself in a relationship with the president that was never cordial and his position bereft of its powers. Not only was he denied his constitutional right of chairing the cabinet in the absence of the president but he did not also have an official residence. He survived a sexual scandal-the Jemima Yalley affair. But on the fateful 28 December 1995, in a clear manifestation of the bad blood between them, Rawlings allegedly assaulted Arkaah at a cabinet meeting.  This last act was reportedly in reaction to a speech Arkaah had delivered critical of the government. This had intensified earlier calls for his resignation. But, in an uncompromising manner, Arkaah had argued against his resignation, in the first instance, that he had taken an oath to serve the people of Ghana and in the second instance, called on his assailant, the president to resign first. By sticking to his guns, Arkaah in 1996 made history as the sitting vice president who also became the running mate on the opposition ticket.

The Abban Affair

Another issue that raised controversy was the appointment of Justice I. K. Abban as Chief Justice in 1995. Article 144(1) of the 1992 Constitution provides that ‘(t)he Chief Justice shall be appointed by the President acting in consultation with the Council of State and with the approval of Parliament.’ The appointment of Abban, an able jurist who had served previously as a High Court and Appeals Court judge and also as Chief Justice of the Seychelles did not breach this constitutional provision. But it attracted, for other reasons, fierce partisan opposition and objections from the Ghana Bar Association (GBA) (Prempeh 1999: 3 & 24). The President, having consulted the Council of State, quickly got Parliament to sit in an emergency session to approve the nomination on the lame excuse that with the resignation of the previous Chief Justice, the position needed to be filled immediately (Oquaye 2001: 25). But what prevented the most senior judge from acting for a period so that the substantive Justice could be appointed without indecent haste?

The answer lay in the fact that the Government was anxious to make the incoming Chief Justice owe it a debt of gratitude and thereafter make him malleable (Ibid). At the time of his appointment, Abban was embroiled in controversy allegedly for doctoring his judgement on the case on the celebration of the 31 December as public holiday. This had in turn led to the trial and imprisonment of the journalist, Mensah Bonsu, who had exposed him, for publicly attacking the integrity of a judge (Prempeh 1999: 2). The GBA went to the unusual extent of filing a lawsuit seeking a declaration from the Supreme Court that Abban, on account of his conduct that precipitated the Mensah Bonsu Case, was not fit for the office of Chief Justice. The GBA had based its claim, inter alia, on the provision in Article 128(4) of the 1992 Constitution limiting the high judicial office to persons of ‘high moral character and proven integrity”. But the case was summarily dismissed by the Supreme Court on the ground that the petitioners’ claim raised a non-justiciable political question (Ibid: 24). Prempeh describes this as ‘the Ghanaian judiciary’s continuing fidelity to the jurisprudence of an authoritarian past’ in spite of the adoption of a liberal democratic constitution (Ibid: 4).

The 1996 Elections

The success of the IPAC in producing consensus on several key areas of electoral politics in the two years preceding the 1996 elections enhanced the confidence of all the key actors and ensured that the conduct and outcome of the elections would be accepted by the contending parties as free and fair (Ninsin 1998: 190). This notwithstanding, the path leading to the elections had been strewn with several issues of conflict and consensus within and among political parties.

The Undercurrents

The NDC which lost its major partner in the 1992 alliance, the NCP, found a replacement in the low-key coastal-based Democratic People’s Party which later played the role of ‘propaganda par excellence’ for the Rawlings’ campaign (Aubynn 1997: 21). Two other issues that confronted the ruling NDC were the choice of a new running mate and the need to strengthen the quality of its parliamentary representation. With the embittered Arkaah out of the way, there were several options open to Rawlings. He could select a northerner not only for the purpose of striking a geographical balance in the north-south equation but more as a reward to the three northern regions for their loyalty and unflinching support for him; or he could select a long time ally from the PNDC days. But Rawlings sprang surprise by selecting the hitherto politically unknown Internal Revenue Commissioner, John Atta Mills.

The need for the NDC to improve the quality of its MPs in 1996 was more urgent. In 1992, thanks to the boycott, there were several NDC MPs who won their seats for lack of serious competition (Aubynn 1997:34) and indeed 23 had gone unopposed (Badu and Larvie 1996: 17). In 1996, it was clear that the race was going to be keener and if the NDC did not act, the poor quality of its MPs could be used as an issue against the party. Stated differently, the ability of the NDC to shed off ‘stop-gap’ candidates and rejuvenate its ticket with more qualified and more popular candidates was going to impact on the party’s electoral fortunes.  The issue was a delicate one, for if care was not taken to placate the incumbents, the party could be in disarray.

The NDC with the advantage of incumbency and access to resources managed it well. In the end about 80 MPs lost their positions. But with the exception of the MP for Mampong, George  Akosah, who in 1995 had stirred the ethnic hornet’s nest (Frempong 2001: 147), and two others who re-contested as independents  the NDC MPs who were replaced stood solidly behind the party. The cue was that they were quickly compensated with cash awards ostensibly to campaign for the party and promises of lucrative jobs in the party and state organizations if they remained loyal. Other incentives were the end of service gratuities and the chance to purchase on very soft terms their government- rented estate houses at Sakumono in Accra.

The NDC had some problems with its alliance partners, EGLE and DPP, over parliamentary representation. Against the expectation that the Progressive Alliance would put up a single candidate in each constituency, the NDC found itself vying against EGLE in 8 constituencies and the DPP in 13 according to the official list of the EC. But this paled into insignificance compared to what transpired in the Great Alliance.

On the other side of the political divide, the issue of an alliance of the traditional political adversaries- the Danquah/Busiaist NPP and the Nkrumahist PCP had become not only a crucial electoral strategy but more so the main pre-occupation. On the face of things this represented elite consensus of sorts. The successes of the AfC in 1995 had created the impression that with a united opposition front the NDC could be defeated. But lack of consensus on the modalities created friction within and across the opposition parties.

In the NPP, the rumbles had begun in 1995 when Kwame Pianim started his campaign of ‘reconciliation’ calling for the rejection of the 1992 NPP flag-bearer, Adu Boahen, for a ‘compromise’ candidate who would be acceptable to the two traditions. There was every indication that the focus was on Pianim himself. By the time he was disqualified by the Supreme Court for his earlier conviction for treason against the PNDC, he had succeeded in discrediting Adu Boahen and paving the way for John Kufuor. Still there was deep-seated disagreement within the NPP about the Alliance. While former chairman, B.J.da Rocha, had publicly decried the alliance with the support of several party faithfuls, Wereko-Brobbey a leading NPP member and a frontliner of the AFC had left the party because the Alliance agenda was not being pursued (Daily Graphic I5 July 1996).

The PCP also had its internal squabbles and lacked consensus on the alliance deal. The party’s national chairman Asuma Banda had questioned the viability of alliance as a political strategy (Aubynn 1997: 22), since it created the impression that neither the PCP nor NPP by itself could defeat the NDC. In addition, the PCP was only a fraction of the Nkrumahist family with the PNC on its own and a chunk of the former NCP in the NDC-fold. But the worst baggage that the PCP brought to the alliance was the election in June 1996 of Arkaah as its presidential candidate. Clearly he had ridden on the crest of his December 28 ordeal.

The Great Alliance of the NPP and the PCP had agreed in principle to field common candidates in both the presidential and parliamentary elections. The conventional wisdom was that the NPP, given its strength on the ground, its relative unity and stability, would be given the upper hand. Thus, the NPP had expected that the PCP flag-bearer to readily accede the alliance presidential candidacy to its own leader, Kufuor; but the choice of Arkaah, the self-acclaimed “Stubborn Cat” changed all that. The bitter but somewhat muted struggle between Arkaah and Kufuor for the alliance top slot delayed the consummation of the alliance until September, barely three months before the election.

Far worse was the struggle over parliamentary seats. The PCP in spite of its weaknesses on the ground made an initial demand for 50-50 share of the seats. When the 112-86 formula was eventually agreed on the two parties had in many places registered separate candidates and it was difficult getting some to step down; the battle, therefore, raged till Election Day. A cursory look at the allocation of the alliance seats proved that the leadership was not on the ground. For instance, two of the three seats in the NPP-stronghold of Kwahu South (this writer’s home district), had been allocated to the PCP. The net effect of all this was disastrous. The NDC capitalized on the wrangling and drummed up possibilities of instability and chaos should the government lose to the bickering opposition alliance (Ayee 1997:15). In places like Ayawaso Central where the PCP’s Kwesi Pratt and NPP’s I. C. Quaye both claimed to be alliance candidates, they openly traded insults and their supporters exchanged blows (Aubynn 1997:22). In the Birim North Constituency, the Minority leader, Owusu Agyekum of the PCP lost his seat to the NDC because of the challenge of NPP’s Owusu Ahinkora. Their combined votes amounted to 52.5% compared to the winner’s 46.5%. (Ephson 2003: 125) In both Abetifi and Nkawkaw Constituencies in the Kwahu South District, had the electorate not defied the alliance and voted for the NPP instead of the PCP (that was virtually non-existent) victory would have gone to the NDC. An even more tragic aspect of this comedy of alliance was the premature bickering over ministerial posts before the elections were held.

The Poll

These intra- and inter-party wrangling did not seriously affect the general conduct of the polls except that it gave the NDC considerable advantage at both the parliamentary and presidential levels. The voter turn out was an impressive 73.5% as compared to 48.3% in 1992. In the three-way presidential contest, Jerry Rawlings (NDC/Progressive Alliance) obtained 57.4%; John Kufuor (NPP/Great Alliance)-39.6%; and Edward Mahama (PNC) - 3%. For Parliament, the NDC won 133 seats (one short of two-thirds majority), NPP-61, PCP-5, and PNC-1 (Ayee 1997: 17; Ninsin 1998:185).

The general mood following the election confirmed the fact that the contending political leaders had agreed upon the basic rules of electoral politics (Ninsin 1998: 194).

Unlike 1992, the defeated presidential candidates, Kufuor and Mahama conceded defeat and congratulated the winner; Rawlings in turn congratulated the losers for their competitive spirit. Kufuor, for instance, declared that there would be no “Stolen Verdict” on the 1996 elections and he conceded the NDC and Rawlings had emerged as a potent “Third Force” in Ghanaian politics. At Rawlings second inauguration also, Kufour, Mahama and their top party executives were present and the two candidates publicly shook hands with President Rawlings (Ayee 1997: 12-13; The Ghanaian Chronicle 11 December 1996: 6-7).

Rawlings’ acceptance speech as quoted extensively below was reconciliatory:

I wish to thank each and everyone for making the election peaceful, fair and transparent. Together we have established the tradition of orderly democratic procedure and every Ghanaian should take satisfaction in its accomplishment. …I congratulate Dr Edward Mahama…and Mr. John Agyekum Kufuor…for their competitive spirit. For me, all political rivalry came to an end when Ghanaians cast their vote on 7th December … It is my hope therefore that in all we say or publish, we will stress more on the things that that unite us as a people than those that tend to divide us. In the true spirit of reconciliation, I wish to assure the nation that we bear no grudges…. I pledge the government’s commitment to draw upon the experience and expertise of all men and women of integrity, no matter their political leanings, in our common effort to improve upon our national performance (Rawlings 1996, Cited in Ninsin 1998: 190-191).

As it were, the second Rawlings-NDC victory was going to facilitate a smoother, albeit protracted transition away from the quasi-militarized authoritarianism of the PNDC on which he first rode to power. The continuity entailed in the second electoral triumph, it was generally believed, would gently ease Rawlings into his ultimate retirement at the end of the constitutionally mandated second term (Gyimah-Boadi 1999: 412).

Another dividend of the 1996 electoral outcome was that candidates who had complaints expressed their intention to seek redress through the EC and the courts rather than resorting to less dubious tactics. Significantly, this cut across the political parties. They included the two independent candidates- Hawa Yakubu (Bawku Central) and John Achuliwor (Navrongo Central); Isaac Amoo (NPP, Ayawaso West Wuogon), Odoi-Sykes (NPP, Odododiodio), Ibn Chambas (NDC, Bimbilla), Said Sinare (NDC Ayawaso Central) and John Ndebugre (PNC, Bolgatanga) (Ayee 1997:13, Gyimah-Boadi 1999: 412).

The defeated political parties and their supporters seemed geared up for Election 2000. This indicated a broad consensus that the ballot box was the sole legitimate instrument for seeking power (Gyimah-Boadi 1999: 412).

But these conciliatory gestures however should not make us oblivious to some issues that pointed to the fragility of the new democratic order:

The NDC government had refused to accede to the request of the EC to provide all the contesting parties with vehicles as was done in 1992. Clearly, the belief that politics is a game of the strongest and must be played to the disadvantage of the weaker persisted (Ayee 1997:16; Ninsin 1998: 194).

The NDC exploited incumbency to commandeer state resources for its electoral victory, perhaps, far worse than in 1992. Money widely attributed to kickback on state contracts was channeled into the coffers of the ruling party. Its campaign was a lavish affair but there was no reliable mechanism in place to enforce post-election accountability (Gyimah-Boadi 1999: 419-420; Sandbrook & Oelbaum 1997: 617).

The indiscipline and violence in certain areas as well as the uncertainty about the intentions of political leaders that characterized the electioneering campaign led to mass hysteria on the eve of voting. There was real fear as to what would happen if Rawlings and the NDC were to lose (Ninsin 1998: 194). Significantly, the PNC leadership had said it “took note of the verdict in the interest of peace and stability and decided to trade peace for injustice in spite of the gross abuse of incumbency by the presidential candidate of the NDC” (The Ghanaian Chronicle  11December 1996: 6-7).

Irregularities and malpractices were also detected. This caused the leader of the Great Alliance to note that the acceptance of the results was:

 without prejudice to the normal legitimate protests against the many incidents of molestations, malpractices and irregularities during and after the election, which were being reported all over the country for redress by the appropriate authorities” (The Ghanaian Chronicle, 17 December 1996: 12).

On the whole, the 1996 election produced a far more favourable outcome than its much-contested predecessor of 1992; suggesting rather paradoxically, that even a flawed transition could set the stage for democratic progress.

The Renewed Mandate

Government

Any hopes for the formation of an ‘all-inclusive government’ that were raised as a result of Rawlings’ post-election gestures soon fizzled out.  Though a few new faces like Muhammad Mumuni and Ekwow Spio Grabrah were brought on, Rawlings’ new cabinet still contained holdovers from the PNDC days like Obed Asamoah, Iddrissu Mahama and Totobi-Quakyi. More significantly, the junior partners in the Progressive Alliance were not represented on the cabinet much less the opposition groups.

Parliament

Table 2.1: Party Composition of First and Second Parliaments

Party No. in First Parliament No. in Second Parliament New Members

NDC

NCP

EGLE

Independent

NPP

PCP

PNC

Total 189

8

1

2

-

-

-

200 133

-

-

-

61

5

1

200 64

-

-

-

61

5

1

131

Source: Derived from Parliamentary Election Results, 1992 &1996

As illustrated above, the face of Parliament, however, had changed. The two vibrant independent candidates lost out, the former NCP lost all its 8 seats and the single EGLE MP did not return. The NDC’s representation had reduced from 189 to 133, 64 of whom were new, leaving only 69 from the previous Parliament (Badu and Larvie 1997: 44). Added to this were 61 from the NPP, 5 from the PCP and 1 from the PNC.

Clearly, the ruling NDC had a controlling majority and most of its members were educated professionals, but the minority bloc was studded with relatively more experienced and more vocal politicians. J.H. Mensah (the new Minority Leader) and C.O. Nyanor on the NPP bench were veterans from the Busia era while Frederick Blay (the Second Deputy Speaker) and Kojo Armah from PCP came from families with rich history in politics. Nana Akufo Addo, Konadu Apraku, Papa Ankomah, and others, were a new breed of well educated and vociferous politicians. Their presence was expected to liven parliamentary debate, improve policymaking at parliamentary committee level and boost governmental accountability and transparency (Gyimah-Boadi 1999:415; Aubynn 1997: 34).

The minority had grudgingly acceded to the continuation of Justice D. F Annan, (an experienced jurist but with PNDC antecedence), as the Speaker of Parliament. But the first major point of controversy arose over the proper interpretation and implementation of Article 78(1), which empowered Parliament to approve the President’s ministerial nominees.  Parliament disagreed on whether or not the new parliament should approve ministers in the previous Rawlings government whom he had re-appointed (Ninsin 1998: 185). In the first Parliament, presidential nominations had attracted casual scrutiny. The Majority was insistent that the new Parliament should consider the retained ministers, most of who were holdovers from the authoritarian era, duly vetted and to concentrate on the new nominees. The Minority vehemently opposed this view arguing that given the very changed circumstances, the vetting of the previous Parliament could not be binding on the new one. The minority felt compelled by its conviction to stage the very first of a series of boycott of parliamentary proceedings. Indeed, that matter was contested at the Supreme Court. And it was only after the Court took a decision that was more confusing than clarificatory that Parliament came to a compromise solution.

Following the presentation of the 1997 budget, the minority’s insistence on producing an alternative budget created further controversy. From then on parliamentary work proceeded uninterrupted, but as usual, marked by cooperation and dissent. On the one hand:

The representation of different shades of ideological and political opinion and the quality of deliberations in the legislative body improved considerably. Some of the bills enacted by Parliament, such as the Serious Fraud Office Bill, were vastly improved versions of the original bills - a clear manifestation of the quality of inputs that went into the legislative process at the Committee and in the House (Gyimah-Boadi  2000: 4)

The Second Parliament did a better job in discharging its constitutional and democratic obligation of overseeing the executive. Presidential nominees were more vigorously vetted; ministers were posed more probing questions before Parliament; the budget was subjected to closer scrutiny and the Auditor General’s Report carefully reviewed (Ibid:6)

At the same time:

Some of the bills (like the Office Holders Declaration Bill) betrayed shoddiness and pedestrian treatment and others (like the Emergency Powers Act in particular), had dubious democratic validity. The former bill stepped out of contemporary best practices by exempting spouses and the military and making declarations almost inaccessible to the public. And the latter not only conferred wide discretionary powers on the president but also placed them beyond legal scrutiny (Ibid: 5).

In spite of the presence of the strong minority contingent Parliament failed to initiate private member’s legislation and limited itself to the role of considering, amending and passing bills initiated by the executive (Ibid).

The exercise of parliamentary oversight was greatly inhibited by the prevalence of crude partisanship in the House. The ruling party overexploited its majority allowing the minority to have its say while the majority had its way. Under the circumstances parliamentary consensus was few and far between.

With the presence of the minority in Parliament the frequent judicial battles over constitutional matters ease a great deal. Similarly, within the Presidency cordiality prevailed between the President and the new Vice President.

Political Succession

One major political issue that cast long and deep shadows on the Ghanaian political scene during the early part of Rawlings’ second term was whether or not he would abide by the constitutional term limit and relinquish power at the end of 2000. Indeed some of his troubleshooters like Vincent Assisseh had tested the political waters with the suggestion of a prolonged term of office for the president. In an era where a third-term presidency was coming back in vogue across Africa, this could not be taken lightly.

Other factors made the sceptre of a ‘third coming’ hang like albatross around the necks of Ghanaians. Rawlings retained the assets of youth, dynamism and popularity; demonstrated unremitting interest in power and influence; and seemingly had a hold on the security agencies. All this together with his historical antecedence of coup making evoked much apprehension over how he would manage his departure (Agyeman-Duah 2000:23).

At an NDC rally at Agona Swedru in the Central region to commemorate the 19th anniversary of the June Fourth 1979 uprising, Rawlings gave the clearest indication yet about his departure when he expressed his preference for Vice President Mills as the party’s flag-bearer at the next elections. The significance of this seemingly innocuous platform talk was that given the hold that Rawlings had over the NDC and the apparent impregnability of the party at the time, the statement virtually amounted to the ‘anointment’ of Mills as the next president.

The Swedru Declaration, however had serious implications for the NDC and contributed in no small measure to its eventual defeat in Election 2000.  First, it effectively foreclosed any credible competition from within the party.  It, therefore, dashed the presidential ambitions of stalwarts in the government like Attorney General (and the longest serving foreign minister) Obed Asamoah and Defence Minister Iddrisu Mahama. Indeed, it was not surprising by NDC standards that at its 2000 congress to choose the flag-bearer, Mills became the only candidate and was elected by acclamation. The net effect however was that the support of these veteran politicians who saw themselves outwitted and outpaced by new entrant Mills waned considerably for a while.

But far worse was the split that the declaration created in the NDC. Unenthused by the undemocratic manner of Mills’ anointment, the cadres (the foot-soldiers of the revolutionary era) led by Goosie Tandoh, formed the Reform Movement initially demanding internal democracy within with the NDC and eventually forming the splinter National Reform Party (NRP). Tandoh, a long-time Rawlings pal reportedly in contention for NDC running mate in 1996 before the emergence of Mills, apparently had presidential ambitions of his own towards 2000. The emergence of the NRP hurt the NDC in two ways. First, it encouraged the opposition to attack more forcefully the democratic credentials and policies of the NDC. Second, in 2000 the NRP could not win any parliamentary seat but, acting as spoilers, caused NDC defeat (and NPP victory) in six constiuencies across six regions in the country - Shama, Krowor, Okere, Damongo-Daboya, Navrongo Central,  and Jaman (Ephson 2003: 9-10). A similar attempt by the NDC to impose sitting MPs as parliamentary candidates, (another manifestation of lack of internal democracy), led to the emergence of several independent candidates with similar ‘spoiler-effect’ in nine other constituencies (Ibid: 10-12).  For constituencies like Okere, Akropong and Navrongo Central the margins of defeat were painfully small (Ibid: 12). Given that the NPP defeated the NDC in the parliamentary election by 100 seats to 92, the NDC could have at least maintained its parliamentary majority had it effectively managed its internal differences.

The NPP had its fair share of internal differences but the dynamics were quite different and they were better managed as well. Reeling under the disastrous effects of the Great Alliance, the party had decided early that it was going to contest the 2000 elections on its own. It also held its primary to choose the flag-bearer two clear years ahead of the elections. The August 1998 contest was between the 1996 defeated candidate Kufuor and a number of parliamentary minority front-liners –Nana Akufo Addo, J. H Mensah, Kofi Apraku and Alhassan Yakubu. In what turned out to be a two-horse race between Kufuor and Addo, the former had a convincing victory. The early primary had the therapeutic effect of healing internal divisions in the party. More importantly, it exposed the presidential candidate to the public and enabled the party to develop a coherent strategy (Gyimah-Boadi 2001: 108).

At the parliamentary level, the party, generally impressed by the performance of its MPs, retained ninety percent of them. Only in six constituencies - Amansie West, Bekwai, and Offinso South (all in the Ashanti Region), Atiwa and Kade (both in the Eastern Region) and Ahanta West in the Western Region - were the incumbents replaced. This consensus formula worked well for the NPP. Only in three constituencies, Abetifi, Akropong and Bantama did party-men rebel to contest as independent candidates. And with the single exception of Wulensi, the NPP retained all its 1996 seats in 2000 (Ibid: 218).

Election 2000

We discussed below some of the interesting issues of conflict and consensus in relation to Election 2000.

The Electoral Milieu

Though Election 1996 had raised high hopes for democratic development, deep distrust and intense acrimony between the ruling party and the opposition characterized the pre-election environment in year 2000. Reports of ruling party agents and organs of state intimidating the opposition were rife (Gyimah-Boadi 2001: 104). Ethnic hype was at its worst as the NDC and NPP vowed to cause upset in each other’s stronghold (Frempong 2001: 152). Basic administrative rules governing the game became highly politicized. The registration and inspection of the voters’ register generated a great deal of controversy. The effort to choose a date consistent with the Constitution and religious practices of various groups led to intense bickering between the ruling party and the opposition and vacillation on the part of the EC. But the worst case was the attempt to replace thumbprint voter-identification cards with photographic ones. This simple matter attracted a Supreme Court decision (Gyimah- Boadi 2001: 105). All this, together with doubts about whether the result would be accepted by the incumbent administration particularly if it lost, created an unprecedented state of public anxiety.

The Running Mate Conundrum

The choice of running mates was full of uncertainties and for the two major parties it became a cat and mouse game, each waiting for the other to first nominate.  For the NPP speculations ran in circles from Courage Quashigah, to counter the NDC ‘World bank’ status in the Volta Region; through a gender balance with Hawa Yakubu; to an ‘own goal’ all-Akan ticket with Nana Akufo Addo before it finally settled on Aliu Mahama, a Northerner and a Moslem. In the NDC camp, there were initial speculations that First Lady Agyeman-Rawlings or her close confidant and Local Government Minister Cecilia Johnson would be imposed on Mills. But the real contenders were Obed Asamoah and Iddrisu Mahama. Asamoah had waged a long campaign through his association with the Progressive Voluntary Associations and the Verandah Boys and Girls Club.  It was therefore one of the ironies of fate that the NDC mantle fell on his Deputy Attorney General, Martin Amidu, who Asamoah left to man his office while he went campaigning (Frempong 2001: 153-154). 

In each camp, the final choice caused some ripples. Within the NDC, Asamoah felt beaten to it twice and one of his staunch supporters, the vociferous Faustina Nelson, got completely lost from the campaign radar of the NDC. In like manner, the Second Vice Chairman of the NPP Wayo Seini, who had particular interest in the running mate slot resigned abruptly from active politics.

The Presidential Run-off

The presidential run-off witnessed far worse divisive, if not dirty, politics. After tasting defeat in the first round and with the six opposition parties ‘ganged up’ against the ruling party in the form of an electoral alliance, the NDC went all out to play the ethnic card. The crux of this strategy was to portray Ashantis (Kufuor’s people) as wicked and vindictive and to call on the other ethnic groups to join forces to defeat the Ashanti ‘invasion’. In this direction:

The people of the Western and Central Regions were chastised for giving their votes to Kufuor (an Ashanti) instead of Mills (a Fanti) and son of their soil. Indeed a team of six chiefs from Volta Region was dispatched to the chiefs in the Central Region to give them lessons on how to support a homeboy (Gyimah-Boadi 2001: 108-109; Frempong 2001: 156).

Rawlings at a number of meetings with the chiefs and fetish priests of the Ga Traditional Council reportedly told them how Ashantis were about to take over Accra through a Kufuor victory. NDC vans also preached the same message in those areas in Accra dominated by indigenous Gas.

NDC also sought to spread fear and panic by exaggerating alleged incidents of election-related assaults perpetrated against NDC supporters and the indigenes of Volta and the Northern Regions by NPP supporters in their strongholds of Ashanti and Brong Ahafo Regions.

Kufuor was also depicted in print and electronic advertisements as a ‘never do well’- a failed businessman, failed lawyer, failed sports administrator, failed minister in the PNDC government and a failed presidential aspirant in 1996 (Gyimah-Boadi 2001: 108-109; Frempong 2001: 156).

The NPP’s response, with the single exception of the revelation of Mills’ 11-year old son born outside wedlock, was positive. The NPP leadership solicited the help of prominent Ewes to convince Volta Region to come out of its isolation and join the winning bandwagon. A similar appeal was made to the three Northern Regions to join the rest for Kufuor for ‘positive change’ (Ibid).

The Dividends

Election 2000 and its outcome were not completely gloomy. Not only did it have its liberating effects but also several dividends for consensus building and democratic development.

The liberating-effect of the opposition victory was multi-dimensional:  First, it was celebrated locally as Ghana’s ‘second independence’. The clear demonstration of the power of the thumb as opposed to the barrel of the gun brought back people’s confidence in the ballot box and halted the incipient one party system that was developing under the NDC.  Second, the opposition, particularly the NPP, could congratulate itself for mapping an effective strategy to neutralize the once seemingly–invincible NDC. Third, it brought self-introspection to the defeated NDC, which openly conceded its shortcomings like abuse of office, lack of internal party democracy and arrogance - a refreshing departure from its culture of official impunity. Its parliamentary group was itself liberated. For the first time it was not going to operate under the tutelage of an overbearing executive.  And fourth, for Africa, Ghana’s peaceful transfer of power offered some hope that constitutional limits will work on the continent.

Election 2000 also offered some lessons in consensus-building. The opposition’s show of resilience and fortitude in the face of extreme provocation and the incumbent’s gracious concession to defeat and peaceful handing over, were a manifestation of growing elite consensus on the rules of the democratic game. The coalition of opposition forces particularly for the second ballot was not only invigorating but, more importantly, demonstrated a degree of consensus building and a step towards political inclusiveness. The very pivotal role that civil society can play in moderating mounting political tensions was also amply demonstrated in the course of Election 2000. The relentless effort of civil society averted the well-founded fears about election-day violence and its potentially dire implications. The parliamentary outcome, with government and opposition virtually split in the middle, provided an opportunity for increased consensus building away from the impunity of the majority that characterized the previous parliaments. Lastly, the Ghanaian experience represented a model of ‘pacted transition’ in which incumbent autocrats are gradually eased out through constitutional means. That model has the advantage of a face-saving device for autocratic rulers and regimes and a reduction in violence that tend to accompany transitions elsewhere in Africa (Gyimah-Boadi 2001: 114).

The democratic dividend included the fact that in spite of the ethnic hype Election 2000, with the exception of the Ashanti-Ewe cleavage, was decided less by ethnicity. The people of Central Region in particular demonstrated that they are perhaps the most detribalized in the country. They rejected their own son because they were not convinced that Mills could deliver the change they desired after almost two decades of PNDC/NDC rule. The outcome of the closely fought election demonstrated the resolve of Ghanaians to exact greater accountability and transparency from the political elite. Election 2000 also brought Ghana closer to completing the process of transition to democratic rule and marked a significant step towards democratic consolidation. Not only was the alternation in power going to test the resilience of Ghana’s 1992 Constitution but also the peaceful manner in which it was achieved is rare in Africa.

The Post-Rawlings Era

The exit of Rawlings posed several challenges that were compounded by the alternation of power. The major challenges included calming political and social tensions flowing from the elections; settlement for Rawlings and his entourage; re-orientation, if not restructuring, of the security agencies without a backlash; national reconciliation; and the economy (Gyimah-Boadi 2001: 115-116). The milieu in which to tackle these challenges was at best not conducive. The NDC was yet to come to terms with its defeat while the euphoria surrounding the NPP victory had raised people’s expectation too high.

Kufuor’s First Hundred Days nd After

Within the first hundred days of the Kufuor administration most of the above challenges created controversy.

The ethnic card could not bring victory to the NDC but it succeeded in sharpening ethnic differences. The fact that an Ashanti had become president did not help matters. Kufuor needed to assure the various groups, which had been “trained” to be wary of Ashantis – Voltarians, Northerners, Gas and even Fantis that his administration would not be a threat to them and that each of them would have their fair share of the national cake. Against this background, the regional distribution of cabinet positions was brought under scrutiny more than ever before. The appointment of the new President’s brother Addo Kufuor and his brother-in–law J. H. Mensah, to the cabinet raised eyebrows. But the fact is that the two were prominent members of the NPP parliamentary group who would have, on their own merits, made it to the cabinet whoever was the NPP president. The initial exclusion of an indigene from the Upper West Region brought back bad memories of the Busia regime’s exclusion of the Volta Region under similar circumstances in the 1970s. And attention was also drawn to the Akan, (if not Ashanti) dominance on the cabinet; this perception continues to haunt the NPP administration.

The Kufuor administration was virtually plunged into the unfamiliar terrain of an appropriate settlement for Rawlings and his entourage. The issue of Rawlings’ post–presidential settlement was always going to be thorny because he and his cohorts were in power for almost two decades but failed to provide appropriate settlement for previous leaders. Indeed, in January 2000, the then Minority Leader J.H. Mensah had intimated rather sarcastically that a State Settlement Act to provide a settlement for the President be passed. Because, he had argued, that at the youthful age of 52years and after nearly 20years as Head of State, Rawlings would have problems managing his imminent retirement (The Evening News, 20 January 2000; Agyeman-Duah 2000: 56). But the somewhat unexpected alternation of power and the very limited transition period turned the whole process into a messy affair.

The Joint Transition Team to sort out some of those issues had less than two weeks between the presidential run-off and the inauguration. The number of houses to be given to Rawlings and their locations, whether he was to have military or police guards, the nature of cars former ministers could buy at concessional rate as part of their settlement package, as well as gratuities for MPs were all matters steep in controversy. Indeed, those issues put both the new administration and the former government on the defensive. The general perception was that the NPP had struck a bad deal and had become the defendant instead of the prosecutor in the court of public opinion (http://www.ghanaweb.com16 January 2001). 

On its part, the NDC parliamentary group called for a new electoral calendar, in a non partisan spirit, to ensure adequate period for a smooth and organized transition that would avoid the embarrassment caused the former ministers over the purchase of cars (http://www.ghanaweb.com 20 January 2001).

The support the other opposition groups gave the NPP during the run-off provided the NPP with a golden opportunity to form an all-inclusive government.  The NRP reportedly declined to be part because it ‘represents different social interests, policies and priorities’ (http://www.ghanaweb.com 30 January 2001). Kwesi Ndoum a defeated CPP parliamentary candidate was appointed Minister of Economic Planning and Regional Cooperation, an appointment which proved beneficial to the government. Mallam Isa, then Acting Chairman of the PNC was also appointed Youth and Sports Minister but with very disastrous consequences. He was dismissed within a month and subsequently tried and jailed over $64,000 bonus for sportsmen.

Another interesting dynamics of the immediate post-Rawlings era was the love the NDC developed for the rule of law and due process. Top NDC members including former Deputy Attorney General and defeated vice presidential candidate Martin Amidu contested in rapid succession at the Supreme Court, the legality of Kufuor’s appointment of his presidential staffers and top brass of the military without consulting the then non-existent Council of State (http://www.ghanaweb.com 29 January & 22 Februay 2001).

The NPP inherited a stagnant economy, depleted national coffers and a huge debt burden which forced the government to declare Ghana a Highly Indebted Poor Country (HIPC) in its first budget of 9 March 2001. Not only was this criticized by the NDC which reportedly resisted international pressures in that direction but there were indications that the government itself was divided over the matter. A week before the budget, Vice President Aliu Mahama had declared that the government would not rush to decide on HIPC. On the eve of the budget, Finance Minister Osafo Maafo said Ghana could not go HIPC since the Technical Committee looking into it had not finished its work, only for him to declare Ghana HIPC the next day (http://www.ghanaweb.com 1 & 9 March 2001). Was it public deception or the President forced him to announce what he did not believe in?

The Kufuor government has moved away from the initial slips and has been performing creditably well in many areas. For instance, it has succeeded in reorienting the loyalty of the military from Rawlings without the expected backlash and considerably improved the logistical base of the police.  But there have been few instances where its actions have either been controversial or not helped its ambivalent imagine in the area of transparency and professionalism. In this category are:

The IFC loan (discussed in the section below).

The appointment of Justice Afreh to the Supreme Court with the singular purpose of over-turning an earlier Supreme Court decision that had declared fast track courts illegal. Not only did it politicize the judiciary but it also attacked the very roots of judicial independence. Indeed it was so reminiscent of the Abban Affair that the stony silence of the Ghana Bar Association (GBA) on the matter raised eye-brows.

The government’s decisions to privatize water and to sell its shares in the Ghana Commercial Bank were withdrawn midstream under public pressure. While the government interpretes its actions to mean that it is responsive to public opinion it had been interpreted by its detractors as indecision.

The Third Parliament of the Fourth Republic

The situation in parliament was even more intriguing. With their roles reversed it was interesting to see how MPs on either side of the political divide reacted to issues in the very few weeks of the new Parliament. First Deputy Speaker Ken Dzirassah swapped positions with Second Deputy Freddy Blay. J.H.Mensah became the new Majority Leader while the NDC chose Algban Bagbin who had not held ministerial position in the PNDC/NDC era, to lead the Minority in the House. Speaker Justice Annan was replaced by a former NPP national chairman Peter Ala Adjetey. Like the NPP in 1997, the NDC had preferred somebody less partisan.

Quite expectedly, the first few months in Parliament was marked by disagreements over many issues with the singular exception of a $20,000 car loan for each MP. Some of the points of disagreement in those hectic days were:

Whether or not ministerial appointees could assume responsibilities in their ministries before their approval by parliament.

The use of a presidential jet purchased by the NDC government under not too transparent circumstances.

An Oil Purchase Agreement (Sahara Affair) and the loan for the purchase of vehicles for the police, both from Nigeria, without Parliament’s prior approval.

The non-recognition of the Vice President and other non-MPs by the President in his first address to Parliament on 15 January 2001. Indeed, whether to call the address a State of the Nation or Presidential Address aroused debate.

The renovation of the President’s private residence with state funds

In all these matters the once vociferous opposition now on the majority bench supported the government while the former subservient NDC group vehemently opposed.

In a rare exception to the rule, the NDC MP for Bimbilla, Mohammed Ibn Chambas, had praised the President’s address as having ‘heavy dose of realism’ (http://www.ghanaweb.com 24 February 2001). Either by design or by fate, Chambas was, later to be supported by the NPP government, to become the Executive Secretary of the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS). While the NPP trumpeted this as manifestation of its all-inclusive governance, the NDC saw it as a calculated ploy to weaken the opposition.  In the resultant bye-election in Bimbilla, the NPP wrestled the seat from the NDC.

After the initial furore, Parliament settled down and worked through consensus on several issues. But it must be emphasized that in 2002 and 2003 respectively, the Minority boycotted the debate and voting on the National Reconciliation Bill and the National Health Insurance Bill. The former sought to deal with unresolved issues of truth, justice and reconciliation; while the latter aimed at replacing the existing ‘Cash and Carry’ healthcare system.

The boycott of the bill on national reconciliation was most unfortunate for our purposes here. While both sides agreed on the need for some form of reconciliation for Ghana, they could not agree either on the mode of appointment of the Commissioners or the period over which their work was to cover. The Majority accepted the government’s proposal that members be appointed by the president with parliamentary approval, and wanted it restricted to Ghana’s unconstitutional governments. The Minority preferred a less partisan mode of appointment and the scope to cover all regimes before the Fourth Republic. The majority eventually gave a window of opportunity for complaints for all regimes before the beginning of the Fourth Republic. But the perception that Parliament could not set the pace by reconciling itself remained and doggedly haunted the work of the National Reconciliation Commission.

Another issue that amply demonstrated the dangers of non-consensus in Parliament was the International Financial Consortium (IFC) Loan. The government laid before Parliament in the middle of June 2002 an agreement which sought to source a loan worth one billion U.S. dollars from the above named international private consortium. The Opposition and the media raised serious concerns about the loan, but the Finance Committee, by a majority vote, all members of the minority dissenting, recommended the proposed loan agreement for approval by the House. Parliament in turn, amidst intense controversy ‘fast-tracked’ the approval process in partisan acquiescence to the wishes of the executive which would not tolerate too many probing but necessary questions. The loan turned out to be a scam (Democratic Watch Vol. 3 No.2 &3, September 2002: 1-5).

The lessons from that episode for Parliament, particularly the majority, are many:

That it is part of the role of the majority in Parliament even (and perhaps more so) when it is the party in power to help to improve draft documents placed before by the executive to make the final product more beneficial to all.

That while it is legitimate for MPs to factor the interest of their party into their deliberations, they have a primary responsibility to the people, and that in crucial matters the party interest must be moderated, if not subordinated, to the public interest.

That, parliamentary majorities should not, as if from reflex action, dismiss any and every objection raised by the minority as partisan coloured, unmeritorious or ill intentioned. Rather it has a responsibility to take those contributions in good faith and examine them on their own merits

Above all, majority rule does not mean that wisdom necessarily and always resides in the majority- A fact that the NPP majority from their experience in opposition should have better appreciated.

The NDC in Opposition

It should be interesting to examine briefly how the NDC as a party has fared as an opposition party. It was compelled by its defeat, as earlier indicated, to go into self-introspection. This began soon after the election but formally a Revamp Team headed by Obed Asamoah was formed in March 2001 to come out with ideas for the reorganization of the party (http://www.ghanaweb.com  5 March 2001). In this connection, the future role in the party for the ex-president became a bone of contention that has continued to haunt the NDC.

By the time the NDC held its first post-defeat national congress in April 2002, the party had been divided into pro-Rawlings and anti- Rawlings camps. The former were the defenders of the status quo, for whom the party is inseparable from Rawlings and any attempt to diminish his grip on the party would make the NDC something other than the NDC. The latter were the champions of a new and depersonalized NDC advocating an NDC that looked beyond Rawlings (Democratic Watch September 2002:9-10). The April 2002 Congress a Pyrrhic victory for the anti-Rawlings forces, it got the role of founder of the party separated from the leader. And its chief advocate Asamoah clinked a very narrow victory of 334-332 for the national chairmanship at the expense of the pro-Rawlings Iddrisu Mahama.  The fact that two regional chairmen announced their resignation at Asamoah’s victory indicated further the extent to which the rift in the party had gone.

Asamoah had campaigned bringing back to the NDC-fold former stalwarts like Kojo Tsikata, P. V. Obeng and Kwesi Botchwey who had fallen out with the ex-president. It was therefore not surprising that Kwesi Botchwey, for thirteen years Finance Minister in the PNDC-NDC, would emerge the only contestant for the party’s flagbearership for the 2004 Elections against former Vice President Mills. While Mills continued to enjoy his ‘anointed son status’, Botchwey campaigned to free the NDC from its dictatorial claws to a more democratic and open society. After a keenly conducted campaign the December 2002 contest resulted in an overwhelming 1,116-194 vote victory for Mills reportedly amidst intimidation thereby confirming Rawlings continued dominance of the party and a virtual return to the status quo ante. The Mills’ victory also effectively turned Election 2004 into a rematch for the 2000 front-runners - Mills and Kufuor.

The relationship between Ex-president Rawlings and the ruling party has been conflictual. From June 2001 Rawlings has persistently criticized the Kufuor government to the extent that some of his privileges as former head of state had to be withdrawn.

Conclusion

It should be clear from the vicissitudes of Ghana’s decade of constitutional rule in the Fourth Republic (1993-2003) that this latest experiment at liberal-democratic rule has had its ups and downs. Indeed a few rough edges remain. The heightened fear and threats to stability that characterize successive elections is a clear indication that the Ghanaian political elite and their followers are yet to fully imbibe the democratic culture. Indeed, it is not one of the norms of democracy to play on the electorate’s fear as an electoral strategy. Again, while legislative rubber-stamping of government policies does not serve any useful public interest, the negative tendency of parliamentary subservience to the executive still prevails.

But we should take delight in the fact that the Ghanaian experience has amply demonstrated, among other things, that:

The early years of re-democratization must expectedly be tumultuous because there are no quick fixes in transforming institutions and norms of authoritarianism into the norms and structures of democracy. They demand values and attitudes that take years to establish

Elite consensus on the rules of the game is vital for democratic development. Even a flawed transition could set the stage for democratic progress if the political elites subsequently agree on the basic rules.

And above all, that peaceful democratic transition is possible in Africa.

                                          

                                 CHAPTER 3

Ghana’s Election 2000: The Ethnic Undercurrents

[Originally published as: A. Kaakyire Duku Frempong (2001) “Ghana’s Election 2000: The Ethnic Undercurrents”, in J.R.A. Ayee (ed.), Deepening Democracy in Ghana: Politics of the 2000 Elections, Accra: Freedom Publications 2001, Vol.1. pp. 141-159].

Introduction

This work addresses an important variable in Ghanaian politics, namely ethnicity, and the ways in which it affects the conduct of national affairs (particularly elections). It is an effort to examine the role and place of ethnicity in Election 2000, which, for the first time in the country’s history, led to a change of government from one civilian administration to another. Drawing on historical evidence of how ethnicity has affected various elections in Ghana, an attempt is made to demonstrate how ethnicity apparently became a central issue in Election 2000 without suggesting that it was the sole or most important determinant of the electoral outcome. Indeed there were other important variables, which not only affected the electoral process but also impacted on ethnicity.

Issues of Ethnicity

Ethnicity is one theme which permeates every study of an African state be it politics, election, conflict or development. At the same time discussing ethnicity is always a delicate problem (Ottaway, 1986). Given the ethnic heterogeneity of the African state, in situations where ethnic relations are tense and volatile, the introduction of competitive electoral politics can provide the stimulus for explosion along ethnic lines (Amoo, 1997:18).

The concept of ethnicity itself is surrounded by vagueness and emotions; it is amorphous and imbued with extreme doses of subjectivity but it still remains an important social and political force shaping human affairs, a phenomenon to be understood and a threat to be controlled (Ottaway, 1996:119;Cillers & Dietrich, 2000:97; Horowitz, 1985:xi). Ethnicity, which broadly refers to a pattern of cultural characteristics that are collectively held, passed on from one generation to another (Enloe, 1980:12), is best understood in relation to the ethnic group. The latter is variously defined as:

A collective within a large society having real or putative common ancestry, memories of shared historical past, a cultural focus on one or more symbolic elements (e.g. kinship patterns, physical contiguity, religious affiliation, language), defined as the epitome of their people hood (Shermerhin, 1970:2);

A named human population with myths of common ancestry, shared historical norms, one or more elements of common culture, a link with a homeland and a sense of solidarity among its members (Hutchinson and Smith, 1996:6); and

A group of people who have cultural distinctiveness, a common history and origin and apartness from others (Horowitz, 1985:3).

An ethnic group is characterized by a commonality of language, culture and tradition that is based on shared history (Ottaway, 1996:120). But in practice ethnic groups are fluid; their boundaries change and new ones emerge often as a deliberate political manoeuvre. In addition ethnic identities can remain dormant or become salient depending on circumstances. It is also equally difficult to clearly determine to which group a specific individual belongs because history has given most of us a very mixed background (Ibid).To determine ethnic boundaries by objective criteria, therefore, is a herculean task. Ethnicity also has several internal contradictions:

While ethnicity rests on culturally specified practice and a given set of belief, in reality an entirely “pure” group is extremely rare, for a seemingly ethnically homogenous groups have possible mixtures from past ethnic encounters (Psalida-Perlmutter 2000:238).

Ethnicity may serve basic psychological and sociological human needs of the sense of “being” and belonging but ethnic-driven political struggles can provide a destructive sense of “otherness” and hostility towards other groups (Ibid).

While a people’s history may set them apart, myths can easily be interwoven into the fabric of historical realities and obscure accurate memories, leading to inappropriate erroneous actions harmful to all sides.

Ethnic identity can be either self-defined or imposed from outside; group membership may result in either collective benefits or collective liabilities (Smith 2000:24).

When ethnicity is politicized, it becomes a powerful political force that may ultimately enhance political integration of states. Legitimize or nullify their political systems and stabilize or undermine their governments (Rothchild, 1981).

Given the artificiality of the African state ethnicity provides a “natural” constant guarantor of personal security but when an ethnic group is threatened, it has the potential to threaten individual members in a personal sense (Amoo, 1997:18).

The link between ethnicity and multi-party democracy is particularly intriguing for our purpose here. On the one hand multi-party democracy is seen as an auspicious context for the management of ethnicity because of its pluralist nature. On the other hand, the general perception, particularly in Africa, is that multi-partyism reinforces ethnic divisions (African Journal of Political Science (AJPS), Vol. 5 No. 2, December 2000, p.55). During election, ethnicity sensitizes the public markedly to the need to protect the interests of their ethnic homeland. Ethnic groups and their organizations emphasize the need to vote for parties and candidates that will protect the interests of member of their groups (ibid). Such cultural entrepreneurs often succeed because ethnicity involves and demands a degree of loyalty, which transcends that given to any other form of identity (Amoo, 1997:19).

The discussion thus far serves as the template around which the lines of ethnic undercurrents during Election 2000 will be drawn.

Ethnic Structure of Ghana

As earlier indicated, it is not easy to determine ethnic boundaries with any objective criteria and this tends to confuse issues of ethnicity. In Ghana, while it is estimated that there are about ninety individual ethnic groups, these are often reduced to a few large groups namely Akan, Mole-Dagbani, Ewe, Ga Adangbe, Guan, Gume (Gurma) (Jonah, 1998:245). Foster (1965) estimated the ethnic composition of Ghana as follows: Akans 44.1%, Mole-Dagbani 15.9%, Ewe 13%, Ga Adangbe 3.7%, Gume 3.5% and other smaller tribes 11.5%. In a later study, Dakubu (1988) estimated that the native speakers of  the various languages as Akan 52%, Mole-Dagbani 15%, Ewe 12%, Ga Adangbe 8%, Gume 3%, others 9%. While these broad groups are seemingly culturally and linguistically homogenous, variations exists within them and their geographical spread further complicates issues to the extent that it is sometimes difficult to say whether ethnicity or regionalism is at play. To illustrate:

Akan is a potpourri of smaller ethnic groups including Asante, Fanti, Brono, Akyem, Akwapim, Kwahu, Denkyira, Wassaw, Nzema etc. spread over the Western, Central, Eastern, Ashanti and Brong Ahafo regions with an enclave in the Volta Region. Each of them has developed and is still developing its own distinctive territorial identity, political consciousness and dialect. They also have their petty jealousies and rivalries to the extent that it is anomalous to assume that the Akan still constitute a single homogeneous ethnic group (Adu Boahen, 2000:9).

The Mole-Dagbani comprising Dagomba, Frafra, Mamprusi, Nanumba, Gonja and the Gume (Gurma) – which include Kokombas, Kyambas, Basare etc. – are spread in the three northern regions of Ghana.

The Ga-Adangbe made up of Gas, Krobos, Adas, Osuduku, Shai, Kpong etc. are in the Eastern and Greater Accra regions.

The Ewes are in the Volta Region, and even though there are many minority ethnic groups like the Likpe, the Avetime, Krachi, Nchumaru etc., there is often the misperception that the region is made up of only Ewes.

This weird mix of ethnicity with regionalism has allowed cultural entrepreneurs to equivocate to suit their purposes. For instance, an individual could be considered an Akan or an Asante or a Fante under varying scenarios. In reality, Fante, Akyem or Brong affinity towards an Asante today may even be less than towards a Ga or Ewe while an Asante predilection towards a Dagomba may be stronger and more positive than towards say a Fante or Denkyira (Ibid).

Similarly, the expression “Northerners” is often used as if the populace in Northern, Upper East and Upper West regions formed a single ethnic group even though most of the languages are not intelligible to one another. Such deliberate manipulations became the hallmark of ethnic politics during Election 2000.

Historical Background of Ethnic Electoral Politics

Discussion of ethnic identity and its interface with electoral politics in Ghana is an old one, dating particularly to the emergence of the National Liberation Movement (NLM) in 1954 to challenge the dominance of Kwame Nkrumah’s Convention People’s Party (CPP). The NLM was a largely Ashanti-based movement which according to it founder, Baffour Osei Akoto, was an attempt by Asante to safeguard its national identity and reverse the trend which threatened its traditional institutions with extinction. In its effort to capture power at national level the NLM had support in Akyem Abuakwa and sought alliances with other ethnic and regionalist parties like the Anlo Youth Organization (AYO) in the Volta Region and the Northern People’s Party (NPP). Since then various attempts have been made to the deal with the ethnic question, specifically to uproot it from electoral politics, but largely to no avail. The CPP soon after independence was forced to pass the Avoidance Discrimination Act to prohibit the formation of political parties on ethnic, regional or religious lines. This forced the Ashantis, Voltarians and Northerners to merge into the United Party (UP).

The 1969, 1979 and 1992 Constitutions, all contain provisions aimed at curbing ethnic electoral politics. Leadership and membership of political parties are not to be restricted to any particular ethnic group. Names, symbols, colour or motto should not have exclusive or particular sectional significance or connotation. Nor should parties be formed for the sole purpose of seeking the welfare, advancement or interests of members of any particular group (Articles 35(1), 42(5), 55(4) of the 1969, 1979 and 1992 Constitutions respectively). Elections held under these constitutions indicate that the ethnicity issue remains an important variable.

In the 1966 coup which preceded the 1969 election, the “comrades in crime” were an Ashanti, Major Afrifa and an Ewe, Colonel Kotoka perhaps, in pursuit of the promotion of the ethnic interests manifested in the formation of the United Party. However, the death of Kotoka in 1967 during an attempted coup by Akan junior officers and the subsequent takeover of the military government and National Liberation Council (NLC) leadership by Afrifa, marked the beginning of the parting ways between the Akans (Ashantis in particular) and the Ewes. By the time the NLC handed over power in October 1969, the military regime had split into factions with the Ashantis and Ewes poles apart (Hutchful, 1973).

The ethnic backgrounds of the leaders of the two leading parties and the voting pattern in the 1969 Elections did not help matters. The National Alliance of Liberials (NAL) led by K.A. Gbedemah (an Ewe) won all the seats, in the Volta Region except Nkwanta and Krachi (the Akan-speaking enclave). NAL did not win any seat in the mainly Akan regions of Ashanti, Brong Ahafo, Western and Central Regions; rather it forfeited its deposits in nineteen constituencies in those regions. In contrast, the Progress Party (PP) led by K.A. Busia (a Brong) won all the seats in Ashanti, Brong Ahafo and Central Regions and a majority in the two other Akan (Western and Eastern) regions. It also forfeited deposits in six of the sixteen seats in the Volta Regions, where it won only two. While it is simplistic to say that ethnicity was the only factor which determined the results, (especially considering the voting patterns outside the non-Akan and non-Ewe regions), it would be difficult to ignore the impact of the Akan-Ewe ethnic cleavage.

The Second Republic was rocked by ethnic tensions which contributed to its collapse. The dismissal of 568 public servants by the Busia government ostensibly under the Transitional Provisions of the 1969 Constitution was interpreted by NAL as a tribalistic reprisal against Ewes or sympathizers of NAL. On 16 June 1970, G.K. Agama, the opposition leader, in a motion in the House described the Prime Minister as a “tribal Prime Minister” and his government a “tribal government” to which Victor Owusu, the Foreign Minister, retorted the now too-well-known “inward-looking diatribe (Ghana Parliament Debates, 16 June, 1970). It turned out to be a gross political error, which his acts of expiation could not atone for (Gyimah-Boadi et. al., 2000). It was exploited not only to his own disadvantage but also to the disadvantage of future presidential candidates associated with his ethnic group and political tradition.  Victor Owusu lost the presidency to Hilla Limann in 1979 largely because of the erroneous perception that he was an archetypal “tribalist politician” (Ibid).

Meanwhile, Kofi Awoonor (1984) had soured ethnic relations in Ghanaian politics in period between the Third and Fourth Republics. Asserting that “. . . no government can govern in Ghana without Ewe participation . . .”; he explained:

This should be ascribed to the fact that Ewes the second largest ethnic group in the country, see themselves in opposition to all governments in Ghana which inevitably became Akan (Ashanti) dominated . . . as it were; the contest for power is reduced in simple terms to a fierce contest between the Akan (Ashanti) and the Ewes. The large Ewe presence in the civil service, military and institutions of learning is seen as an effective check on Ashanti effort at hegemony (Awoonor 1984:57).

The path towards the return to constitutional rule in the Fourth Republic was strewn with a replay of Ashanti-Ewe rivalry. The presidential candidates of the two leading political parties that emerged during the 1992 elections; Jerry Rawlings of the National Democratic Congress (NDC) and Adu-Boahen of the New Patriotic Party were half-Ewe and half-Ashanti respectively. The results of the 1992 presidential elections were instructive as far as the home regions of the two candidates were concerned. Rawlings won a whopping 93.2% of the votes cast in the Volta Region and 32.9% in Ashanti Region; while for Adu-Boahen it was 60.5% in Ashanti and a mere 3.6% in Volta (Electoral Commission 1993). But it is also true that Rawlings had a majority in all other regions including the Akan dominated ones of Brong Ahafo, Eastern, Western and Central.

Among other things, the NDC had effectively exploited the “sins” of Victor Owusu, Ashanti hegemonic past and the myth that an Ashanti could never be elected President to the disadvantage of the NPP which, given the dominance of Ashantis in its leadership, could not shake off its perception as an Ashanti party. Some slogans of the NPP like “Yegye ye man” – literary “we are claiming our land” – did not help its cause.

In 1996, J.A. Kufuor, a full-blooded Ashanti and a close associate of Victor Owusu inherited those problems. But his circumstances were further frustrated by two other incidents. First in 1995, Dr George Akosah, NDC member for Mampong, in a parliamentary debate stirred up the ethnic hornet’s nest when he said:

We Ashantis expect people to work hard to become rich people. It is our culture and those who may not have this culture may do well to copy this rather than try to blunt the aggressive nature of Ashantis (Ghanaian Chronicle, 1995).

He further called for an earnest effort to tackle the problem, charging that under the NDC (his own party) “some tribes are believed to have been favoured creating widespread complaints that could be explosive” (Ibid). He suggested that “the Volta Region caucus in Parliament should deliberate on the problem since if affects their people mainly . . .” (Ibid). The NDC Chief Whip, an Ewe, retorted that Dr Akosah’s performance was “a typical Ashanti arrogance” (Ibid). No wonder, Dr Akosah, was deselected for the 1996 Parliamentary election.

Second, the Asantehene Otumfuo Ware II had in 1996, raised to paramountcy some chiefs in the Brong Ahafo Region who owe allegiance to the Golden Stool. This led to violent conflict in the region and was exploited by the incumbent NDC to further alienate Brong Ahafo from the NPP. The NDC won 62% of the votes in the presidential election and 17 out of 21 parliamentary seats from Brong Ahafo (Electoral Commission 1997). Nationwide, the presidential election followed the 1992 pattern: NPP winning only in Ashanti region and NDC in all the rest.

Ethnic Undercurrents in 2000

The trajectories of ethnicity in Ghana’s electoral politics in 2000 were more complex than the well-known Ashanti-Ewe rivalry. The incumbent NDC President Jerry Rawlings having completed his maximum two terms of office had, virtually single-handedly, nominated his Vice, John Atta Mills ( a Fanti), as the party’s presidential candidate. This brought to the fore whether   the second slot should be used to compensate the Northerners (who had been lying in waiting to assume the top position) or to the Voltarians, whose region thus far had lived up to the accolade of the NDC’s electoral World Bank. For its part, the NPP had once again chosen J.A. Kufuor as its flag bearer, making the choice of a running mate who would minimize the accusation of Ashanti domination in the party crucial. To complicate the ethnic matrix further three other political parties, the Convention People’s Party (CPP), Ghana Consolidated Popular Party (GCPP) and National Reform Party (NRP), had all chosen presidential candidates who were Fantis. At the parliamentary level, there had been an increasing demand for the various parties to select indigenes as candidates in Greater Accra. The people of  Northern Volta clamoured for the creation of their own Oti Region while the Kwahus renewed their call for the renaming of the Afram Plain District as Kwahu North District as a manifestation of their ownership of the land. Against this background the ethnic (and/or regional) nexus became a vital campaign tool in Election 2000.

This discussion of the ethnic undercurrents for obvious reasons concentrates on two main parties, NDC and NPP, but it must not be forgotten that five other parties, CPP, NRP, GCPP, People’s National Convention (PNC) and United Ghana Movement (UGM) also contested the elections and references are made to them whenever necessary.

The Son of the Soil Factor (Adze wo fie a oye)

Part of the reason why the NDC had strong support in the Volta Region in the 1992 and 1996 Elections was that Jerry Rawlings was a son of the land. In Election 2000 which Rawlings was not contesting therefore, there was the need to create a second “world bank”, using the “son of the soil” strategy. This explains why when it became clear that Vice President Mills was going to be the Party’s flag bearer, NDC bill boards in the Central Region, his home region, bore the slogan “Adze wo fie a oye”. This Fanti expression for “it is better to have your own” sought to present Mills as a Fanti for whom all Fantis should vote without factoring in other issues of national development. Interestingly, as one left the Central Region to the neighbouring Western, Greater Accra, Ashanti and Eastern Regions, the Mills/NDC billboards abruptly changed to “vote Prof. Mills for President” (Free Press, June 2000). This deliberate ploy for an en  bloc Central Region vote a la Volta Region soon lost steam when George Hagan, also a Fanti, was elected the flag-bearer of the CPP, with its own slogan “ye de nam pa aba” – “ we have offered a better choice” – ( The Guide, June 2000) . When later two other Fantis, Goosie Tanoh and Dan Lartey were also elected flag bearers, the “Central Region for Mills” strategy had become a non-issue.

For the NPP projecting its flag bearer, J.A. Kufuor, as an Ashanti was what it most loathed to do; rather, it went to all lengths to at least defuse its image as an Akan (if not Ashanti) party which stuck like a leech in spite of the fact that its elected national executive was dominated by non-Akans. 

A comical nexus to the home boy strategy occurred when B.B. Ntim, a Kwahu, declared, following his selection as the running mate of the PNC flag bearer, Edward Mahama, declared he was going to deliver the three constituencies in Kwahu South which in 1996 had voted overwhelmingly for the NPP, to the PNC. It turned out to be empty political talk. The PNC obtained less than one percent of the presidential votes in each of the three constituencies in Kwahu South.

Fantis are Jokers?

One issue, which raised the ethnic stakes high in the year 2000 electoral campaign, was Kufuor’s alleged derogatory remarks on the person of the NDC presidential candidate, Veep Mills. In Agona Swedru at the beginning of their tour of the Central Region, First Lady Agyeman Rawlings and NDC strong woman, Faustina Nelson, allegedly indicated that Kufuor during a tour of the Brong Ahafo Region remarked at Bechem that the Vice President did not merit the Castle because the seat of the government was meant for serious minded people and not comedians like Mills (The Independent, 23 May 2000). In the alleged insult, a mechanism for driving a wedge between Fantis and Ashantis was seen. By the time the First Lady’s entourage arrived at Cape Coast, it had been expanded to mean that all Fantis were comedians. And by extension, a slur on the whole of the Central Region, which included non-Fantis like Denkyira, Breman, Assin and Efutu (Ibid). The NDC-inclined Palava newspaper had given this allegation wide publicity and one chief Dasebre Kwaku Ewusi of Abura Traditional area, had swallowed the bait and demanded an apology from Kufuor (see The Palava, 12 May 2000; The Crusading Guide, 13-19 July, 2000).

In a desperate attempt to clear his name, Kufuor had argued that the accusation was an attempt to stir up tribal animosity and called on Mills to dissociate himself from the tribalist propaganda of his party. The Brong Ahafo regional secretariat also denied holding any rally at Bechem during Kufuor’s tour (Daily Graphic, 26 May 2000). But not even Kufuor’s reference to his wife’s Fanti background and a long list of prominent Fantis in his party could effectively repair the damage caused by this accusation (Free Press, May-June 2000; The Independent, 30 May 2000).  Nor did it end the NDC strategy of alienating the other Akan groups from Ashantis. This was spearheaded in the Brong Ahafo and Kwahu by defecting former Busia-loyalists A. A. Munufie and Kwaku Baah respectively.

Defections

Since the return to multi-party rule in 1992 defections and resignations from politics had been part of the political game. Prominent among the defectors were Bugri Nabu, Kwaku Baah and David Lamptey from the NPP to the NDC and Faustina Nelson who joined the NDC from National Convention Party (NCP). Others like Kwame Pianim and Jones Ofori Atta had resigned from active politics while Wereko-Brobbey left the NPP to form the UGM. Peter Kpordugbe and Goosie Tanoh formed the NRP after leaving the NDC. But in none of these was the ethnic question made the reason for their departure. However the defection of Alhaji Inusah and Kakra Essamuah from the NPP threw up the ethnic dice. Alhaji Inusah, a close confidant and campaign manager of Kufuor in 1996, was also a potential running mate had there not been an alliance between the NPP and People’s Convention Party (PCP) that year. But he defected on 14 July, in the heat of the Election 2000 campaign, to the NDC among other things on the allegation of tribalism in the NPP. His defection came soon after his unsuccessful attempt to win the NPP parliamentary slot for the Ayawaso West Wuogon constituency. Two years earlier he had lost to Courage Quashigah as the NPP’s national organizer. He had argued to the effect that the NPP is an Akan-centred party in which Northerners were hewers of wood and drawers of water.The hollowness of his accusation however, soon became evident. Kumi Koomson, the Press Secretary of the University of Ghana branch of the Tertiary Education Students Confederacy (TESCON) of the NPP, in a letter to the Press maintained that Alhaji Inusah, a month before his defection, had described the NPP as a true and democraticparty at the branch’s inauguration at Legon (The Guide, 26 July-1 August 2000, p.6). At that same forum he had described the NDC in very derogatory terms (Ibid). The intensity, with which Alhaji Inusah heaped accusations on the NPP during the rest of the campaign and his subseunt attempt to return to the NPP in power, left no one in doubt that he played the ethnic card merely to cover his very personal motive for defection.

Kakra Essamuah too had been a vociferous critic of the NDC and staunch defender of the NPP, particularly on a private radio programme “Cross fire” which he hosted. In 1998 he contested the position of NPP National Secretary and lost miserably to Dan Botwe. Then in October 2000 Essamuah had openly declared his support for NDC’s flag bearer, Mills (The Independent, 24 October 2000, p.3.). The NPP, which saw his action as a gross act of indiscipline and a betrayal of the party, dismissed Essamuah from the party (Daily Graphic, 26 October, 2000, p.1). In reaction, the unrepentant Essamuah, claiming he was a victim of patriotism, emphasized:

My purported dismissal from the NPP for expressing my opinion on the undisputed competence of Professor . . . Mills to become the next president of Ghana is a desperate attempt by the party leadership to stifle dissent and prevent the truth from being told (Daily Graphic, 13 November 2000, p.25).

However there was the general perception that Essamuah, a Fanti torn between party and ethnicity opted for the latter (Independent, 24 October 2000, p.3).

Entering the lion’s Den?

In spite the apparent increased intra-Akan (Ashanti-Fanti) rivalry, the Ashanti-Ewe cleavage remained crucial. The NPP which had lost about 30% of the presidential vote and five parliamentary seats in Ashanti to the NDC in 1996 was bent on making a clean sweep in 2000. At the same time it had hoped to overcome its Achilles’ heel in the Volta Region with Rawlings out of way. For its part, the NDC had hoped to keep its ‘World Bank’ intact and make further in-roads in the Ashanti Region. Under the circumstances each of the major parties vowed to cause upset in the other’s own stronghold.                       

The NDC had tried, following the death of Asantehene Otumfuo Opoku Ware II, early 1999, to “annex” the Golden Stool to serve its interest in Ashanti. A delegation reportedly sent to Kumasi to influence the Asantehemaa to nominate the then Metropolitan Chief Executive, Nana Akwesi Agyeman for the stool backfired (The Independent, 13 July, 1999). Worse still, the first visit of the newly installed Asantehene Otumfuo Osei Tutu II to the seat of government in June 1999 was a disaster. The apparent harsh manner in which President Rawlings treated the Asantehene and his entourage was considered an affront by Ashantis. The admonition of Faustina Nelson, an NDC Vice Chairperson, at the same function that Ashantis became hostile to the President made matters worse (The Guide, 28 June-4 July 2000, p.7). Perhaps the last straw was when close to the election, the installation process of the new Asantehene was used as background to an NDC TV3 advertisement. This attracted criticism from the Asante Students’ Union Alumni (ASUA) which warned all political parties against drawing the Asantehene into partisan politics (The Evening News, 4 December 2000, p.3). In the end the NDC’s share of parliamentary seats in Ashanti dwindled to two while Mills could only garner 22.8% of the presidential vote.

The NPP looked more optimistic about its chances in the Volta Region this time round. In part, it had hoped the splitter – NRP – would split the NDC vote to give the NPP advantage. It also sought to gain from agitation of northern Volta for its own region. More significantly, the NPP had realized that in the previous elections it had declared the Volta Region a “no go” area and had devoted very little effort to getting its message across to the people there.   

In its resolve to turn things around the NPP presidential candidate made several tours of the region and it was crowned with the 2000 National Congress at Ho. A surprise package of that congress was the appeal by the wife of the NPP flag bearer, in fluent Ewe, to the people of Volta Region to join her husband and the NPP for a positive change of government (Free Press, 13-19 September 2000, p.1). But a small incident before the Congress is worth remembering. On hindsight, it was indicative that nothing was going to change. The NPP had to reschedule the date and change the venue for the congress because its intention of holding it at the Evangelical Presbyterian (EP) Dela Cathedral had been declined reportedly on ground that the church did not want to dabble in politics (The Guide, 15-21 September 2000, p.8). The  irony however, was that in April the NDC had been given access to hold its congress at the same place after renovating it an estimated cost of  $200 million (Ibid). Thus, it was a clear case of not antagonizing the NDC. At the end of the 7 December elections, the NPP won no seat in the Volta Region; the best it could achieve was to increase its percentage of votes in the presidential election from 4.6% in 1996 to 6.9%.

The Running Mate Conundrum

More than anything else it was the choice of the running mates for the various parties that attracted the most ethnic sentiments. It was also one issue in which the equivocation on ethnicity and regionalism was at its worst. Here again the problem found greatest manifestation within the two dominant parties, NDC and NPP, which until September 2000 were playing a cat and mouse game each waiting for the other to nominate its running mate.

When in August 1998 two clear years ahead of the election, the NPP chose an Akan flag bearer, it was generally assumed that a non-Akan would be made the running mate at least to counter the misperception of the party as Akan-centred. However, by mid-2000 a strong lobby had emerged for an All-Akan ticket with Nana Akuffo Addo, MP for Abuakwa, as Kufuor’s running mate. Among the arguments put forward were that though an Akan, Akuffo-Addo was not an Ashanti; that he had come second in the flag bearer’s race; that the NPP needed a firebrand vice president; that competence rather than ethnicity or religion should be the determinant; and that the choice of non-Akans by the Danquah-Busia tradition since 1979 had not brought them victory. This strategy, which opponents likened to scoring an own goal however, fizzled out when it was revealed that Akuffo Addo in 1998 had advocated that the running mate “must broaden the enhance the electoral appeal of the ticket by the nature of the ethnic or gender or religious contribution that the person will bring to the ticket” (The Dispatch, 21-27 July 2000, p.12). 

All along, the choice had been between a Voltarian to counter the NDC “world bank” status in that region or a Northerner. In the forefront for the Volta was the NPP national organizer, Courage Quashigah and from the North, Hawa Yakubu, Joshua Hamidu and Wayo Sieni. The final choice, however, was Alhaji Aliu Mahama, a Dagomba (Northerner) and also a Moslem.

In the case of the NDC, the choice of an Akan running mate did not become a major issue except on the few occasions when it was speculated that first lady Agyemang Rawlings or her close confident and Local Government Minister Cecelia Johnson would be imposed on Mills. The running mate puzzle that starkly confronted Mills however, was the “Northerners” versus “Voltarians” dialects, which revolved around Presidential Advisor Iddrisu Mahama and Attorney General Obed Asamoah. The Northerners insisted on the second slot not only for the purpose of striking a geographical balance in the south-north equation but more as a reward for their loyalty to and flinching support for the NDC in the two previous elections (The Mirror, 19 August 2000, pp.11 & 16). But the choice of a Voltarian, it was claimed, would maintain the “world bank” continuity tradition of by which the region had extensively supported Rawlings.

The problem with the North however, was that it lacked a united front with a spokesman vested with authority to speak on behalf of the people from the three regions. Hence several other names from the North came up – John Mahama, Yahya, Donald Adabere etc. in addition, there were several ethnic groups within the area some of which did not get on well. To illustrate, a group called Northern Consultative congress had thrown its support behind Obed Asamoah instead of Iddrisu Mahama for the second slot (Daily Graphic, 17 July 2000, p.11).

Obed Asamoah for his part, had waged a long campaign through his association with the Progressive Voluntary Association and the Verandah Boys and Girls Club for the position. To that extent it became a twist of fate when in the end the nomination fell on his deputy, Martin Amidu, a Northerner to whom Asamoah had left his office while he went campaigning.

The choice of Northerners by the two leading political parties followed the pattern set by the CPP which soon after choosing of George Hagan as its presidential candidate selected Ibrahim Mahama as the running mate. The NRP also chose a Northerner, Cletus Kosiba, as its running mate. This chain of Northerners however, was seen in some quarters as giving in to “blackmail  by Northern ethnic agitators”, particularly because a group calling itself the Savanna Club had openly appealed to Northerners to vote against any party which did not  choose one of them as running mate (Free Press 13-19 September 2000). But given also that the only party with a Northern presidential candidate, the PNC, chose a southern running mate it would seem that the North-South political balance rather than ethnicity dictated the choice of running mates.

Parliamentary Nominations

Parliamentary nominations by their parochial nature should normally not attract ethnic sentiments. But in Election 2000 there were a few instances where ethnicity became crucial. In the Greater Accra Region particularly for Accra and Tema, there were increased pressures on the political parties to field native Gas as candidates. This was in part a response to the increasing perception that Accra has been overtaken by outsiders and the increased confrontation over banning of drums during the celebration of Homowo.

Two parliamentary contests however, stood out for the ethnic engineering on the part of the NPP. These were New Edubiase in Ashanti Region and Fanteakwa in the Eastern Region. New Edubiase was one of the very few in Ashanti which the NPP could not wrest from the NDC in 1996. In Election 2000, the NPP had attributed its earlier failure to the large presence of immigrant Ewe farmers in that constituency (The Accra Mail, 15 January 2001, p.9). As a strategic counterpoint, the NPP nominated as its candidate, Francis Dorpenyoh, an Ewe. In a similar vein in Fanteakwa, where there is a large Krobo settler population, which had been indoctrinated by the NDC that an NPP Government would drive them  from their lands, the NPP  nominated a Krobo, Ofoe Ceasar, as its candidate. In both cases the NPP improved its showing but that was not enough to unseat the incumbents: Theresa Baffoe and Samuel Ofosu Ampofo.

The Second Ballot

The inability of the two frontrunners, Kufuor and Mills to clock a first round victory in the presidential election led to a second ballot with more intense ethnic undertones. The Institute of Economic Affairs (IEA) an Accra-based academic NGO which monitored statements and actions of the two parties in the presidential run-off, NDC and NPP, noted in a press statement that:

It has increasingly become clear that ethnicity and ethnic sentiments are being exploited in a manner that is disturbing (Daily Graphic, 22 December 2000, p.8) and reminded politicians that the factors that determined the choice of people in an election were more complex than ethnicity (Ibid).

It became apparent that the NDC which had been somewhat circumspect in referring to the “Ashanti baggage” of the NPP, after tasting defeat in the first round was going all out to play the ethnic card. The crux of this strategy was to portray Ashantis as wicked and vindictive and to call on the other tribes to gang up to defeat the Ashanti “invasion”. In this direction:

President Rawlings at a marathon meeting with the Ga Chiefs reportedly told them Ashantis were about to take over Accra through a Kufuor victory (The Ghanaian Chronicle, 22-28 December 2000, p.6). This later attracted protests from the Ga Youth.

Following another meeting between the President and the Chief Priest of the Ga state, Nai Wulomo, a gong gong was beaten warning all Gas not to vote for Kufuor else they risk their lives (The Weekend Statesman, 22-28 December 2000, p.1).

A team of six Chiefs from the Volta Region were dispatched to meet their counterparts in the Central Region to drum up ethnic support for the NDC presidential candidate. An attempt by the President of the Volta Region House of Chiefs Togbe Dagadu to dissociate the House from the clandestine visit tended to confirm the visit and also implicated the Volta Regional Minister and the Ho District Chief Executive (The Ghanaian Chronicle, 24-25 January 2001).

There were reports from the Ashanti Region that NDC supporters mainly Fantis, Ewes and Northerners were being harassed and had therefore sought refuge in a government official’s residence. Though this was refuted by the police, a group of MPs from the Volta Region issued a statement calling on the government to protect their tribesmen who had become targets of hatred and assault in Ashanti (The Ghanaian Chronicle, 21 December 2000, p.4).

The defecting Alhaji Inusah fanned similar anti-Ashanti animosity among fellow Northerners and Moslems (Ibid).

For its part the NPP solicited the help of prominent Ewes – A.K. Deku and Elizabeth Ohene – to support Courage Quashigah to try to convince the people of the Volta Region to join what was increasingly becoming the winning bandwagon (The Ghanaian Chronicle, 22 December 2000, p.1)

The Elections Results

Given the Ethnic situation that preceded the elections, it is crucial to examine the extent to which the results could be interpreted in ethnic terms.

For the Ashanti and the Volta Regions it was business as usual and the Ashanti/Volta cleavage remained intact. The NPP and the NDC retained their dominance in their respective strongholds. The NPP won 31 out of the 33 parliamentary seats and more than 75% of the votes in both presidential elections in Ashanti. In the Volta Region, the NDC had more than 80% of the presidential vote and 17 out of the 19 parliamentary seats (with the two going to independent candidates closely associated with the NDC).

In the three northern regions – Northern, Upper West and Upper East – the voting pattern followed closely that of 1996 in spite of the galaxy of running mates from that area. The NDC retained its dominance in the parliamentary elections winning 32 out of the 43 seats and a majority in both presidential ballots. But it is significant that the NPP made a leap from about 30% in the first round to about 49% in the second round in the Northern Region. This however had more to do with the support the PNC gave the NPP than ethnicity.

The vote in Brong Ahafo was quite surprising. The NPP which in 1996 had only 4 seats gained 14 out of the 21 seats in 2000. And its share of the presidential vote rose from 36% in 1996 to 58% in the 2000 presidential run off. The NDC lost 10 parliamentary seats and 20% presidential vote between 1996 and 2000. This turnaround can hardly be explained in merely ethnic terms. Given the prevailing anti-Ashanti sentiments in that region one would have expected that Brong Ahafo would have stayed with the NDC which had a Fanti presidential candidate.

There was a similar turnaround in favour of the NPP in the Greater Accra, Western and Eastern Regions. But the most intriguing was the Central Region, the home of the NDC presidential candidate. The parliamentary seats were split almost in the middle for the two parties and in the presidential elections, the NDC’s 1996 55% vote dwindled to 40% in the 2000 runoff while for the NPP the comparative percentages were a rise from 43% to 60%. By their vote the people of the Central Region (particularly the Fantis) demonstrated that they are among the most de-tribalized in the country. In a postelection survey in that region, it was revealed that while they were not against Mills as a person they did not like the NDC baggage which he carried. They were fed up with the almost two decades of PNDC/NDC rule and also wondered whether Mills could be his own man with Rawlings around.

Conclusion

It should be clear from the discussion so far that while ethnic sentiments were hyped on the road towards Election 2000, it is very difficult to explain the election results in purely ethnic terms. The results in Ashanti and Volta regions confirmed the Asante-Ewe cleavage which has characterized elections in the Fourth Republic, but the results in the Central Region in particular indicated that different explanation should be found for the NPP’s victory in 2000. Factors like the deteriorating economy, the yearning for change after almost two decades of PNDC/NDC rule and the complacency of NDC functionaries all came into play.

This however does not prevent us from distilling a few ethnic lessons from Election 2000:

The violent conflict which broke out in the Bawku Central Constituency along the Kusasi-Mamprusi divide gave us a taste of how destructive ethnic electoral politics could be.

The fact that the Volta Region stuck with the NDC when it was clear that all others were gravitating towards the NPP indicates that President Kufuor will have to do a lot to reassure the people of that region that they have nothing to fear under Ashanti President.

It is important that as we progress in our democratic experimentation we de-emphasize ethnic sentiments and emphasize national issues.

It is also incumbent on the government to ensure that each group gets its fair share o f the national cake.

While ethnic identities are a reality of Africa societies there is the need to mend ethnic relations. While we should glory that we are Asantes, Ewes, Gas, Dagombas etc. we should not cause the disintegration of the country through creating feelings against any particular ethnic group.

Lastly it is good to always remember that what history has joined together, momentary passions cannot put asunder.

                             CHAPTER 4

Ethnicity, Democracy and Ghana’s Election 2004

[Originally published as: Alexander K. D. Frempong (2006) “Ethnicity, Democracy and Ghana’s Election 2004” in Kwame Boafo-Arthur, ed. (2006) Voting for Democracy in Ghana: The 2004 Elections in Perspective, Vol.1, Accra: Freedom Publications, pp. 157-186]. 

Introduction

Ghana’s current experiment at constitutional rule has taken significant strides forward. From a flawed and very shaky start, the Fourth Republic, for the first time in the country’s history, has witnessed four general elections in a roll. The first two elections returned the former military ruler-turned-president, Jerry Rawlings, into power. In another first, political power alternated in 2000 from the then ruling National Democratic Congress (NDC) to the opposition New Patriotic Party (NPP) led by John Kufuor, who was re-elected president in 2004. The success of four successive elections has made Ghana the paragon of good governance and peaceful coexistence in a region which over the last decade and a half has been better known for a spiral of violent conflict.

Ethnicity however remains a major and increasing problem in Ghana. As the country continues to consolidate its democracy, there is a growing concern that democracy is unleashing ethnic rivalries that threaten the very gains it has conferred on the country. Perhaps, the clearest manifestation of this dangerous trend was the post-Election 2004 bashing of the people of the Central Region. That region’s only ‘crime’ ironically, had been the rejection of the canker-worm of ethnicity. The region, dominated by ethnic Fantis, had voted massively for Kufuor, an ethnic Ashanti against Mills who hails from that region and had campaigned there on the ‘virtues’ of voting for a ‘son of the soil’.

Though this may appear contrary to the conventional wisdom that the level of ethnicity decreases with improvement in democratic governance, it also demonstrates the complex, indeed the Janus-faced, relationship between ethnicity and democracy. The right linkage between ethnicity and democracy is one on which opinions remain divided. Some analysts are of the view that the multiparty system reinforces ethnicity and impacts negatively on democracy. But others think that ethnicity has a positive link with multiparty democracy and that democracy offers an auspicious context for the management of ethnicity; in other words, ethnic competition is not incompatible with democratic governance if it finds expression as group interest among other interests. Similarly, whereas successful democratization means the establishment of regimes in which ethnic and other interests are accommodated by peaceful means; the very process of transition creates threatening uncertainties for some groups and opens up a range of transitory political opportunities for ethnic entrepreneurs (Gurr 2001: 176). Does the process of establishing more participatory and responsive political systems necessarily have problematic consequences for ethnic mobilization and conflict?

This seemingly paradoxical situation is not restricted to Ghana. Most African governments have had to confront the difficult task of maintaining national unity with multiethnic, socio-culturally diverse citizenries and under circumstances in which loyalty to one’s ethnic group take precedence over loyalty to the nation as a whole. Indeed, one of the major tasks for Africa’s democratization process is how to ensure that ethnic socio-economic antagonisms are not converted into collective political action with the potential for violence (Conteh-Morgan 1997: 94-95). The attitude of African leaders towards ethnicity has often not been helpful. While they reject the legitimacy of ethnic identities they at the same time rely on them to bolster their own power (Ottaway 1996: 120-121). Often incumbent power elites try to deny that any problem related to ethnic inequalities or antagonisms exist. The reality however is that they actually promote the interests of their own groups while advocating impartiality (Conteh-Morgan 1997: 108).

This chapter examines some of the essential questions about ethnicity in Ghana: What have been the main trends in, and character of, ethnic relations in Ghana?  How can we explain the apparent intensification of inter-ethnic antagonisms in Ghana while the democratic experiment progresses? To what extent is it a legacy bequeathed from the almost two-decade rule of ex-President Rawlings? What has it got to do with the Akan perception of the ruling NPP or the ethnic background of incumbent President Kufuor? How did all this impact on Election 2004? And what is the way forward? These issues are examined in the context of the discourse on the relation between ethnicity, democracy and the African state.

Issues of Ethnicity, Democracy And The State

Ethnicity

There are essentially two schools of thought on the meaning and nature of ethnicity. The first school, the primordialists, holds that members of the same ethnic group have a common bond that determines their personal identity and “turns the group into a natural community of a type that is older than the modern (state)” (Van de Goor 1994:18; cited in Ake 2003: 93). This group stresses the idea of ethnic identification as a result of inherent long-standing and usually unchanging sets of alliances which often defy rational explanation (Smith 2000: 36). One is bound to one’s kinsmen by virtue of some unaccountable way that is related to the very tie itself (Geertz 1963:109-110). The instrumentalists, on the other hand, see ethnicity essentially as a means for people, especially leaders, to pursue their own purpose such as ‘forming, mobilizing and manipulating groups of people for political ends’ (Van de Goor 1994:18, cited in Ake 2003:-94). They explain ethnicity in terms of a variety of political, economic and institutional structures which mobilize, alter and even create an ethnic identity in the service of political goals (Smith 2000: 36).

The reality is that ethnicity exhibits both characteristics at the same time. Although ethnicity may appear instrumental, it is structurally primordial, possessing an intrinsic absolute value, involving and demanding a level of loyalty which transcends that given to any other social group (Amoo 1997: 16). While aspects of ethnic identities are open for change, the relevance of ethnic identities as such tends to persist over time (Buzzi 2000:4).  Mare (1993:2) likens an ethnic identity to a story, a way of dealing with the present through a sense of identity that is rooted in the past.   Indeed, ethnicity has been politicized because it can combine both instrumental and affective dimensions. (Conteh-Morgan 1997: 99)

Ethnicity, it must be emphasized, thrives on half truths and perceptions as much as on historical facts and is sustained by stereotypes and prejudices which help to explain why ethnicity remains a crucial weapon for political mobilization (Frempong 2004). Furthermore, ethnicity may exhibit a number of paradoxes: One, while ethnicity rests on culturally specified practice and given sets of beliefs, in reality an entirely ‘pure’ group is extremely rare. Two, ethnic groups can generate forces of moderation, constitute a form of social capital and advance the private fortunes of their members; but they may also occasionally engage in acts of violence, destroying wealth and discouraging the formation of capital (Rothberg 2000; Ayoob 2001).Three, contrary to the conventional wisdom is that it is the political elite that manipulate ethnicity for their own purposes, sometimes the elite act under pressure from the masses. How do all these complexities tie in with democracy?

The Ethnicity-Democracy Interface

The thrust of the ethnicity-democracy debate is whether democracy alleviates or increases ethnic conflict. Those who think the establishment of democracy ought to lead to less conflict between ethnic groups argue that democracy is an instrument for peaceful resolution of conflicts without having to resort to violence. In a democracy, it is further argued; conflicts between ethnic groups can be put on the negotiating table and solved through dialogue. If a compromise is not found through negotiations, consensus over voting as the proper procedure to reach decisions will ensure that a solution is found to the satisfaction of all parties concerned (Buzzi 2002: 1). For the exponents of this position, ethnicity acts as a pole around which group members can mobilize and compete effectively for state controlled power, economic resources, positions, contracts awards and constitutional protection (just like any other interest group) (Rothchild 1997: 4).

Others think democracy leads to more ethnic conflict. In their view, as  more people participate in the political process and differences between ethnic groups are articulated openly,  political leaders in multiethnic societies may be tempted to use ethnicity as a means to obtain electoral support (Buzzi 2002: 1).  In a climate of uncertainty, a policy of uniting an ethnic group against real or imagined political threat or of whipping up ethnic animosity against another ethnic group becomes expedient. Under the circumstances, past legacies of ethnic conflict are rehashed and intensified (Conteh-Morgan 1997:  101 &102).Whether used defensively to thwart the ambitions of others or offensively to achieve their own end, ethnicity is primarily a label or set of symbolic ties that is used for political advantage (Psalidas-Perlmutter 2000: 238), and is therefore, inherently conflictual.

Perhaps the truth about the ethnicity-democracy interface lies in-between these opposing views. Sometimes the reciprocal impact of democracy and ethnicity is complementary and at other times opposing.

The State and Ethnicity

It is essential in any analysis of ethnicity to consider the crucial role of the state: First, the state is the turf on which ethnic politics is played. It is the arena for interaction, encounter, cooperation, conflict and struggle over the exercise of power and distribution of societal resources (Conteh-Morgan 1997: 104; Udogu 2001: 3- 4). Second, the state’s political institutions and capabilities structure ethnopolitical groups’ choices about policies to be pursued and the means to do so; whether to participate, protest or rebel. Often the state shapes and directs the scope, intensity and even duration of ethnopolitical conflicts (Conteh-Morgan 1997: 106; Gurr 2001: 174). Third, when the state is viewed as a prize in the hands of a particular ethnic group, it creates distrust and insecurity and makes it difficult for the state to be perceived as an impartial arbiter by the other ethnic groups.

The Ethnic Structure of Ghana

It is estimated that there are about ninety individual ethnic groups,  but these are often reduced to a few large groups, namely, Akan, Mole Dagbani, Ewe, Ga-Adangbe Guan, Gurma, etc. For instance, the 2000 Population and Housing Census, identified 8  such major ethnic groups based on language, four of which accounted for nearly 80%: Akan-49.1%; Mole Dagbani-16.5%, Ewe-12.7%, Ga-Adangbe-8%, Guan-4.4%, Gurma-3.9%,  Grusi-2.8% and Man Busanga-1.1% (Ghana Statistical Service 2002; Nukunya 2003: 214).

The geographical spread of the ethnic groups has some interesting features that impinge on electoral politics. On the one hand, each of these broad groups has its traditional home-region(s): The Akans spread across five regions-Western, Central, Eastern, Ashanti and Brong Ahafo; the Mole-Dagbanis cut across the Northern, Upper East and Upper West regions; the Ewes are in southern Volta Region; the Ga-Adangbes are in the Greater Accra and Eastern regions, and the Guan speaking groups are scattered in Northern, Central, Eastern and Volta regions. On the other hand, owing to migration and other factors, several proportions of the various ethnic groups currently live outside their traditional home-regions and are becoming increasingly vocal in electoral terms. A few examples may suffice here:

Ewes formed significant proportions of the populations of most of the five Akan regions – 15.9% in Eastern, 5.9% in Western, 4.7% in Central and 3.1% in Ashanti.

Three out of every twenty (15.7%) of the population in Brong Ahafo, 7.7% in Ashanti and 4.7% in Western are of Mole-Dagbani descent

There are more Akans (39.7%) in the Greater Accra Region than the indigenous Ga-Adangbes (29.6%)

This leaves none of the regions ethnically homogenous; yet in the Volta and Central regions where Ewes and Fantis are the respective dominant groups, the impression is often created as if there are no other ethnic groups in those regions.

The Constitutional Context of Ethnicity

Ghana’s 1969 and 1979 Constitutions, contained provisions aimed at curbing ethnicity in electoral politics. Leadership and membership of political parties are not to be restricted to any particular ethnic group or region. Names, symbols, colour or motto should not have exclusive or particular sectional significance or connotation. Nor should parties be formed for the sole purpose of seeking the welfare, advancement or interests of members of any particular group. The 1992 Constitution went further in the manner it sought to deal with the issue of ethnicity and/or regionalism in a democratic state. For instance, each political party is to have a national character, and membership is not to be based on ethnic, religious, regional or other sectional divisions; the members of the national executive committee of a political party must be chosen from all regions of Ghana. But these elaborate provisions have hardly succeeded in curbing the ethnic hype that has preceded every election in the Fourth Republic.

History of Ethnicity and Electoral Politics in Ghana

Ethnicity has remained an important ingredient in the recipe of Ghana’s electoral politics, but it has waxed and waned during different periods of the country’s history. Ethnic tensions were high in the 1950s in the run-up to independence when ethnic-and regional-based parties emerged to contest Kwame Nkrumah’s Convention People’s Party (CPP).  (Frempong 2001: 145). The CPP soon after independence passed the Avoidance of Discrimination Act to prohibit the formation of political parties on ethnic, regional or religious lines. This forced the sectarian groups to merge into the United Party (UP). By the time of its overthrow in February 1966 the CPP had succeeded in reducing ethnic politics to the barest minimum.  However a series of events over the three years of the military ruling council, the National Liberation Council (NLC) reversed the situation.

By the time of the 1969 Election, ethnicity had again become a major issue. The unfortunate legacy of that election was that the ruling NLC itself was split along the Akan-Ewe divide in its support for the two leading parties the Progress Party (PP) and National Alliance of Liberals (NAL) whose respective leaders, K. A. Busia and K. A. Gbedemah came from those two ethnic groups. The election results apparently confirmed that divide. The politics of the Busia era deepened the Akan-Ewe rivalry further and Victor Owusu’s ‘inward-looking’ diatribe has remained the political burden that presidential candidates of the Danquah-Busia tradition continue to bear.

Over the decade of the Provisional National Defence Council (PNDC) rule (1982-1992), there were serious allegations of Ewe domination of the government and all its agencies and ethnic and regional discontent ran high though muted owing to the culture of silence imposed by that regime (Bening 1999: 342; Lent & Nugent 2000: 22). Not surprisingly, under Rawlings some Ashantis contemplated Ashanti secession or at least the revival of the federal dream of the NLM days (Bening 1999: 363).

The Ashanti-Ewe rivalry has prevailed in the Fourth Republic largely because the leading political parties, the National Democratic Congress (NDC) and the New Patriotic Party (NPP) have been associated with the two ethnic groups.  The emergence of Vice President Mills, a Fanti from the Central Region, as the NDC flag-bearer in 2000 introduced a new twist to the ethnic dynamics of the electoral politics of that year. It turned out to be a contest among the three largest groups- Ashantis, Ewes and Fantis.

The results of the first round of the 2000 presidential elections proved a clear identification of the two dominant parties with the Akan/Non-Akan divide. The NPP in addition to winning Ashanti (74.8%), for the first time in the Fourth Republic also won the four other Akan regions of Eastern (55.0%), Brong Ahafo (50.6%), Western (50.5%), and Central (49.7%). The NDC retained its hold of four Non-Akan regions of Volta (86.2%), Upper West (62.3%), Upper East (52.1%) and Northern (50.7%) (An extract from Ephson 2003: 152).  The only exception to this rule was Greater Accra which is traditionally Non-Akan but also the most cosmopolitan region. The NPP won that region by 52.5%.

The presidential run-off between Kufuor and Mills led to increased ethnic undertones. The NDC after tasting defeat in the first round went all out to play the ethnic card (Frempong 2001: 156). But the broad picture, ethnically speaking, did not change in the run-off. The NPP retained the five Akan regions and Greater Accra and lost the other four Non-Akan regions. But the most intriguing aspect of the presidential run-off apparently escaped several observers, given the furore that surrounded the Central Region vote in 2004. NDC presidential candidate Mills was defeated by NPP’s Kufuor in sixteen out of the then seventeen seats in his home region. The only seat he won in the run-off was the Mfantseman East constituency.

Ethnic Politics and Kufuor’s First Term

The first term of the NPP government provided a useful background for analyzing the ethnic dynamics of Ghana’s Election 2004. For several reasons, the ascendancy J. A. Kufuor, an Ashanti, to the presidency and his Akan-associated NPP to power in 2001 was going to impact seriously on the ethnic politics of the country. First, more than even in 1969 the NPP victory was dependent on the Akan support. Second, Ashanti is not only a group with a historical legacy of dominance but also remains the single dominant ethnic group, numerically speaking, not only within the Akan group but nationwide with 14.8% of the national population (2000 Population and Housing Census: 5). Third, the myth that an Ashanti would never be elected president was broken and those who subscribed to mythology were anticipating its implications. Fourth, an Ashanti president assumed power after an era in which Ashantis were perceived to have been targeted for destruction by the previous regime. The Ewes, as one would expect, were apprehensive of their fate when for the first time in twenty years their son will not be in the Castle, neither his ‘anointed’ successor. For the Gas who have been ‘coached’ to be suspicious of Ashantis and their hegemonic instincts, they were waiting to see what was in store for them just like the Northerners who had once more given massive support to the NDC. Even among the Akans, the other subgroups were not too sure how they would fare under an Ashanti President. Against this background therefore an initial task that faced the Kufour Administration was how to allay these fears.

On the other hand, the NPP victory was celebrated across the country a liberation from the authoritarianism and culture of silence of the PNDC era which were always lurking under the NDC with Rawlings still in power. But a sense of liberation often comes with its excess baggage; a dilemma aptly captured by Conteh-Morgan:

The tight control over the political sector by an authoritarian power elite discourages open expression of ethnopolitics. On the other hand, a reduction in repression or authoritarianism can instigate ethnic political competition or instigate ethnic political movements that tend to undermine democratization efforts (Conteh-Morgan 1997: 102).

Thus, whereas over the nearly-two-decade Rawlings era, there were pained silence and angry grumblings about what was perceived as a deliberate policy to promote Ewes, in the more liberalized atmosphere of the Kufuor era, people (including those formerly in government) were going to be more open and vocal about perceived or real attempts to favour Ashantis in particular and Akans in general. How well or badly was the Kufuor government going to strike the delicate balance on such a slippery turf of ethnicized politics?

Ministerial and Other Government Appointments

The first major task the Kufuor presidency faced was related to ministerial appointments. Given the pattern of voting, the Non-Akans were going to be very sensitive to these appointments.

The first set of sector ministers (19 cabinet and 7 non-cabinet) produced 18 Akans (a third of which were Ashantis), and 8 Non-Akans (3 Mole Dagbanis, 2 Ewes and 3 Gas). In regional terms, all, except the Upper West Region, were represented. The 30 deputy ministers were shared equally between Akans and Non-Akans. Two of the cabinet ministers were close relations of the President- his younger brother, Kwame Addo-Kufuor and his brother-in-law, J. H. Mensah, who would have made the cabinet in their own right under any NPP president.  The reality, The Dispatch  (19 March 2004, p.8) revealed, did not show a steep imbalance in favour of Ashantis or even Akans in general when compared with the 2000 population census, but in matters of ethnicity, perceptions are often more dangerous than the facts. It is therefore not surprising that the perception out there has been that more top positions are held not only by ethnic Ashantis but by the president’s close relations.  The cliché making rounds was that ‘Nyebro’ of the Rawlings’ era has been replaced by ‘Me Nua Osanteni’- my ‘Ewe brother’ for my ‘Ashanti brother’.

The initial exclusion of the Upper West from the cabinet provided unnecessary ammunition for cultural entrepreneurs. It brought back bad memories of the exclusion of Ewes from the Busia government. The President’s initial handling of the matter was the first demonstration of how nervous the NPP government was going to be towards accusations of ethnic favouritism. Kufuor had explained at the first ‘People’s Assembly’ that he could not find somebody suitable at that point in time from the Upper West. This muddied the waters further and hardly removed the perception of disrespect when Prof. Kasim Kassanga, former a deputy minister, was later promoted to the cabinet.

The Volta Region

The Kufuor Administration throughout its first term sought to allay the fears of the Voltarians who had given him the least vote in 2000. His government completed the Keta Sea Defence project and gave the region its fair share of development projects; but suspicion of the NPP government in the region lingered. Constant reference had been made to the fact that there are too few Voltarians in the Kufuor government. The perceived bad blood between Rawlings and Kufuor seemed to have worsened matters. How were these going to impact on Election 2004?

Claims of Ashanti Superiority and Anti-Ashanti Sentiments

It is significant that at his first meeting with the Asantehene at the Manhyia Palace in 2001, President Kufuor had counseled Ashantis to avoid any conduct that would create the perception as if he was president only for Ashantis or that his was an Ashanti government (Ghana Palaver, 10-12 August 2004: 1& 8). It was from this perspective that a series of press conferences and paid adverts extolling Asante superiority did not help the cause of the President in allaying the fears of other ethnic groups. A group calling itself, the Asante United Front (AUF) had warned against ‘attacks on Asante customary law and usage and the discussion of the Golden Stool and its occupant, the Asantehene, in public’ and had intimated that it was ‘mobilizing Asante Force to counter any such attacks on Asante’ (The Chronicle, 16 July 2003, pp.4-5).

In another development, a press conference by one Kwame Arhin extolling Asante history led to a series of paid advertisements and articles in which the Ashantis, Akyems and Gas tried to undo each other in terms of the greatness and superiority of their respective ethnic groups (The Chronicle, 9 September 2003; Daily Graphic, 16 October 2003, pp 12 7 21; The Chronicle, 26 November 2003, pp1 & 8).  The fact is that the publications and their rebuttals and rejoinders were full of half-, if not, un-truths. They had twisted historical records to suit their biased and self-serving agenda.

This growing perception of Ashanti ethnic hegemony in the country led to increased anti-Ashanti sentiments particularly among the Gas:

References have been made to the many official visitors to the country who paid courtesy calls on the Asantehene in Kumasi at the expense of the Ga Mantse, the traditional custodian of the capital city.

When in 2002, the Director–General of Ghana Broadcasting Corporation (GBC) was removed by the National Media Commission for unexplained reasons Ga opinion leaders protested that he had be sacked by the government because he was a Ga and had established Obonu FM, a Ga local radio station. This was irrespective of the fact that his successor, Eva Lokko was also a Ga.

In May 2002, the Asantehene had to postpone indefinitely and at the last minute, the official launch in Accra, of a well advertised Otumfuo Education Fund ‘due to unforeseen circumstances.’ This turned out to be a tactical retreat to forestall inter-ethnic violence that was looming between Gas and Asantes. In 2003, similar clouds surrounded the invitation of the Asantehene as a Special Guest of Honour to the celebration of the 40th Anniversary of the Mensah- Sarbah Hall of the University of Ghana over the issue of entry visa.

This insistent on the royal protocol of ‘entry permit’ in the case of the Asantehene raised a number of questions: Why had the Ga traditional authorities not been so insistent in the many instances where other chiefs had trooped to Accra to hold consultation with the government or to announce funerals?  Why was it that; past and even the present Asantehene did not face such resistance under the Rawlings regime? Is it not because of the fact that an Ashanti is now president?

Another dimension of the anti-Ashanti sentiments related to the fifth anniversary of Otumfuo Osei Tutu II. On 9 May 2004, the Asantehene rounded off the commemoration the fifth anniversary of his ascendancy to the Golden Stool with the Addaekese festival which attracted both national and international attention. But this was rubbished by some non-Ashanti social commentators who wondered what was special about a fifth anniversary when other chiefs who had spent more than three decades on their stools were not celebrating? Others wondered why the Asantehene timed his ceremony to coincide with the third anniversary of the 9 May 2001 Accra Stadium Disaster (The Chronicle, 12 May 2004, p. 2).

A further case in point was the confusion which surrounded the acquisition of the World Bank loan/grant under the Promoting Partnership with Traditional Authorities Project (PPTAP). An article in the Ghana Palaver had in the middle of 2003 revealed, with an obvious partisan and ethnic slant, that the NPP government had contracted a five million-dollar loan from the World Bank exclusively for Asanteman and Akim Abuakwa Traditional Councils. The paper had run a banner headline on Monday, 30 June 2003: “Hurray All Hail the Era of Ashanti Initiatives…NPP’s $5million Ethnic Agenda Loan.” The uproar that followed the publication should be expected since indigenes from the two traditional areas dominated the Kufuor cabinet.

Ethnic Slant to Actions of State Institutions

Even more dangerous for the fledging democracy had been the increasing attempts to hype the actions of the police and the courts in ethno-partisan terms. Two examples will suffice:

IGP and Ga Chiefs: On 7 April 2004, the Inspector General of Police Nana Owusu-Nsiah began what was scheduled to become a nationwide tour of meeting traditional rulers. At the first meeting with chiefs in the Greater Accra Region,  IGP Nana Owusu-Nsiah, himself a chief, advised them not to meddle in partisan politics but to uphold their unique position in society (The Chronicle, 7 April 2004, pp.4-5). This seemingly innocuous advice soon attracted a Daily Graphic feature entitled ‘Tribal Politics Should Be Avoided’, from a well known senior citizen with half-Ga origins, K. B.Asante, which ironically tended to inflame tribal passions (Daily Graphic, 19 April 2004, p. 7). The writer had likened the encounter between the IGP and the Ga chiefs to one between a headmaster and his students and had wondered if the IGP could assemble chiefs in Ashanti and give them such a lecture?  The particular reference to Ashanti chiefs in this context was worrying as a confirmation of the phenomenon of “Asantephobia” (or is it Asantemania?) that seemed to be engulfing the whole country.  Indeed another writer, an Ashanti, I.K. Gyasi, had questioned the motive behind the reference to Ashanti chiefs and had argued that the earlier writer had either assumed that the IGP, a Brong, was an Ashanti or it was a deliberate ploy to cause mischief. (The Chronicle, 27 April 2004, p. 2)

Assault on Brong Chiefs: The NDC-friendly Ghana Palaver in a back page article entitled “‘Assault’ on Brong Ahafo Chiefs Continues” sought to give a politico-ethnic twist to a series of chiefs from that region who over the period of the Kufuor Administration had had a blush with the judicial courts. That article had ended with the question which was increasingly becoming an anti-Asante slogan: ‘Can anybody imagine such systematic and systemic politico-judicial ‘assault on Ashanti region chiefs under President J. A. Kufuor?’ (Ghana Palaver, 27 April 2004, p. 8).

Were the law enforcement agencies to allow the chiefs to go scotfree over matters some of which bordered on criminality? Did the author imply that it was the government which ordered the Courts to try these chiefs? Clearly, the motive of that article was to incite Brong animosity against an Ashanti President, against the background of the traditional rivalry between the two ethnic groups which the NDC had exploited to its advantage in previous elections.

Ethnicity and Election 2004

Ethno-Electoral Issues

Early in 2004, tell-tale signs emerged about how intensive and ‘bloodily’ the ethnic card was going to be played in that year’s election. The following were some of the signs:

“Gas in NPP are Fools” Diatribe

The perception of the NPP government being one of close relations of the President assumed wider ramifications during the election year. The clearest manifestation of this was E.T Mensah’s “Gas in NPP are Fools’ diatribe. The NDC MP for Ningo-Prampram, at a meeting with party faithful at Teshie in Accra, reportedly chastised native Gas who supported the NPP. This was allegedly because Gas had been marginalized in the Kufuor administration. He reportedly asked his Teshie audience how many Gas were in the NPP government and emphasized that when it came to appointments, eight out of every ten were filled with personalities from the current president’s hometown and specifically his family men (The Daily Dispatch, 5 April 2004, p.8).

Psalidas-Perlmutter (2000: 238) has emphasized that ethnic activists and political entrepreneurs often operate by reinforcing group fears of physical insecurity and cultural domination and as political memories, myths and emotions magnify these fears, they can produce a toxic brew of distrust and suspicion (Conteh-Morgan 1997: 99). The diatribe attributed to the MP for Ningo/Prampram and the resultant furore had most of these ingredients of cultural entrepreneurship. First, the MP vehemently denied the report until a tape recording of the event was played. Second, the statement was spiced with half-truths. Third, in an effort to repair the damage caused by Mensah’s diatribe and perhaps to balance the politicized-ethnic equation, it soon appeared in an NDC-friendly newspaper that the NPP MP for Nsuta Kwamang, Osei-Prempeh, had in a radio programme some months earlier alluded to the fact that the people in Kumasi (Ashantis) were more enlightened than those in Accra (Gas) (Crusading Guide 8-14 April 2004, pp. 1 & 3).

Apart from the tensed atmosphere that such accusations and counter accusations generated, they tended to divert attention from the major social, economic and political issues on which the elections were supposed to be fought.

Sympathizing With or Exploiting the Dead King?

Another politico-ethnic issue which was always going to have its repercussions on Election 2004 was the Dagbon crisis. Ever since the untimely death on the Ya Na, Yakubu Andani II, in March 2002, the Dagbon crisis, the largely intra-family feud with a long history of partisan political undertones, had remained a festering wound. The Andanis have traditionally supported CPP and in the Fourth Republic, NDC; while their half-brothers, the Abudus have been associated with the UP tradition whose offshoot is the ruling NPP. Worse still, at the time of the crisis there was along chain of Abudus in the top hierarchy of the security apparatus and indeed the interior ministry of the NPP government. The Interior Minister at the time, Malik Alhassan Yakubu, was also the MP for Yendi. Under the circumstances, whatever the NPP government did could not shake off the perception that either by omission or commission it facilitated the gruesome murder.

The opposition NDC served early notice of fishing in the muddy ethnic waters of Dagbon in the election year. In January 2004, T-shirts bearing NDC symbols and the portrait of the late Ya Na, were on sale in Dagbon. In a radio discussion, an NDC MP, Twumasi Appiah, indicated that it should be taken to mean the NDC’s way of sympathizing with the dead king.  NDC flagbearer Mills promised, on assumption of office, to set up a new and truly non-partisan, professionally competent and independent Presidential Commission to re-open investigations claiming that it was unacceptable for an act of daylight murder to be classified as war (Ghana Palaver, 19-22 March 2004: 2).

Dagbon also had its ripples within the ruling NPP. A section in the party had argued that, as an Abudu, Vice President Aliu Mahama would be a liability to the NPP ticket if he was retained as running mate by President Kufuor in Election 2004. NPP’s opponents had a field day reading several meanings into the matter. Ghana Palaver (23-26 July 2004: 8) reported that a strong anti-Aliu Mahama lobby had developed in the NPP dedicated to ensuring that the Vice President was dropped as a running mate to President Kufuor; that the real agenda of the group, made up mostly of Ashantis, was to make sure that Aliu would not be around as Vice President in 2008 should President Kufuor win in order to make a bid for the presidency. The twist in the tale however that was the same article raised a series of issues virtually incriminating the Vice President in the murder of the Ya Na and ended up raising the Andani-Abudu rivalry to the highest pitch.

Otumfuo’s Dynamism, Kufuor’s Headache

It is a real irony of fate that the dynamism and foresight of the Asantehene would remain a major source of controversy for the first Ashanti president of the Republic. In the election year of 2004, Otumfuo and his initiatives became big electoral issues, perhaps no less controversial than the Dagbon crisis. In July 2004, the Asantehene, in furtherance of the Promoting Partnership with Traditional Authorities Project (PPTAP), earlier referred to, was granted $30million by the World Bank to undertake water and other sanitation projects in Central, Volta, Brong Ahafo and Ashanti regions (Daily Guide, 27 July 2004: 1 & 12). Instead of commending this rare initiative, the extension of the project to other regions was given ethnic-tainted interpretations (The Chronicle, 14 August 2004: 2; Daily Guide, 27 July 2004: 1 &12). It was alleged, among other things, that the Asantehene had not consulted the chiefs in the areas concerned or the National House of Chiefs. Also, the effort was perceived as a political ploy to win votes in those regions that were unlikely to vote for the NPP in 2004. Otumfuo’s public responses to the above and other misconceptions about the project, and his caution that ethnocentricism tended to frustrate those who were genuinely interested in the country’s development, could do little to erase those misperceptions (The Ghanaian Times, 27 July 2004: 1 & 3).

Sometimes the opposition-friendly media overstretched the accusation of ethnocentricism too far. But by persisting in such slanted reportage, it became difficult for the NPP government to deny semblance of favouritism and the perception lingered on.  The biggest orchestration of all was the Ghana Palaver’s 5 November 2004 publication of an alleged discovery of plans by the Kufuor administration on its re-election to make the Asantehene King of Ghana and make Kufuor Prime Minister. Funny as this might seem on reflection, the paper cleverly, if not maliciously, outlined a purported stage by stage plan to achieve this on Ghana’s 45th Republican anniversary on 1 July 2005.

An earlier incident that had also turned the scales of ethnocentricism against the NPP was Agyare Koi-Larbi’s open letter to the president in July 2004. The NPP MP for Akropong had drawn attention to what he perceived to be a threat to the cohesion of the country by the government’s selective projection of chiefs; the Asantehene and Okyehene were cited (Statesman, 28 July 2004: 3). Koi-Larbi became an instant ‘darling boy’ of the opposition.

NPP Government’s Response

The Kufuor government appeared persistently overwhelmed by the accusations of ethnocentrism and so its response has generally been piecemeal, incoherent and counter-productive:

In November 2003, Information Minister Nana Akomea in the process of condemning cultural entrepreneurs following the ethnic press war earlier referred to, had introduced inaccuracies/biases of his own (The Statesman, 18 November 2003).

In the heat of the election campaign, Vice President Mahama was compelled to break his silence on the Dagbon crisis, because according to him, some detractors were determined to use the unfortunate incident to score cheap political points (Daily Graphic 10 August 2004: 5). But the Vice President did so, after more than two years, at a meeting with the Zongo community in Takoradi in the Western Region, as it were, far away from the ‘crime scene.’  Even then, he argued rather mildly that it did not make sense to him that a government which wants peace and progress would engage in or condone an action that undermines the very conditions it is working for.

In a similar vein, the President had not visited Yendi since the Ya Na had died and as the electoral campaign got underway, ‘To Visit, or Not To Visit Yendi’, became a major electoral issue. As a face-saving device, the President declared he would visit Yendi but would not campaign there while the dead king remained unburied.  Such a lame response again brought up the question of what the government’s reaction would have been had the murder occurred in Ashanti. That in turn, attracted the retort that such a dastardly act would not happen in Manhyia Palace (Daily Guide, 12 July 2004: 14).

Presidential Spokesman Kwabena Agyapong had reportedly, described Koi-Larbi as ‘a person with bitterness in him perhaps because he was not given any ministerial appointment … and that if he had performed well he would have gone for re-election’ (Ghana Palaver, 10-12 August 2004: 1& 8). Clearly, the accusation of the MP’s failure to develop his area was misplaced, since under the 1992 Constitution, the focus of local development was the District Assembly and not the MP. The attack also depicted the NPP government as intolerant of internal criticism. Not surprisingly, the opposition projected Koi-Larbi as a true democrat who was being persecuted for speaking his mind. However, given the impending elections, a memorandum to the president and party hierarchy instead of an open letter could have served the party better.

President Kufuor chose to comment on accusations of ethnocentricism leveled against the government during a courtesy call on him by the Asantehene and perhaps inadvertently ended up reinforcing the views of the cynics. The President had made reference to the Asantehene’s advocacy role in Ghana’s effort to reach the completion point of the HIPC Initiative. That was capitalized on by the cynics as a manifestation of his alleged ‘King of Ghana’ status. To them, the Asantehene was usurping the powers of the President and Finance Minister. Thus, his endeavours to salvage Ghanaians from their predicaments were cleverly twisted and turned into a vicious charge of ethnocentricism, nepotism and hegemonic intentions (Daily Graphic 27 July 2004: 1 & 3; Daily Guide, 27 July 2004: 1 &12).

It must be emphasized that the impact of the media in this regard was great, especially where FM stations have proliferated, featuring newspaper review programmes, phone-ins and other programmes on the elections.

Pre-Election Ethnic Dynamics in the Regions

In the months leading to the elections there were intriguing regional developments with ethnic undertones which either threatened or favoured the NPP’s re-election bid:

In the Ashanti Region, the NPP slogan was ‘Operation 39’, meaning, it was going to win all the seats in the party’s stronghold at both the presidential and parliamentary polls. The assumption, in ethnic terms was that with an Ashanti as an incumbent president, it was inconceivable that a constituency in the Ashanti Region would vote against the NPP. The NDC while accepting its underdog status in the region claimed that it would cause an upset by winning at least ten parliamentary seats and 40% of the presidential vote. The situation in the two constituencies the NPP lost in 2000- New Edubiase and Ejura Sekyedumase- remained ethnically interesting. In 2000 the NPP had chosen an Ewe, Francis Dorpenyoh, in the hope of attracting the large Ewe settler vote (Frempong 2001: 155). When he failed against NDC’s Theresa Baffoe, he was appointed the DCE for the area in preparation for the 2004 contest. The NDC in 2004 countered Dorpenyoh’s incumbency advantage as a DCE with an Ewe candidate, Ernest Kofi Yakah, to set the stage for a ‘battle of Ewes in Ashanti.’ In the other NDC ‘safe seat’ of Ejura-Sekyedumase, the NDC had replaced its Ashanti incumbent, Sampson Atakora, with a northerner, Alhaji Issifu Pangabu Mohammed, in its bit to retain the northern settler support. In the Kumasi metropolis itself, the re-demarcation of constituencies had created in the Asawase Constituency, a strong northern settler presence which posed a serious threat to the NPP. Was the NDC candidate, Gibril Mohammed, going to cause an upset against the well-resourced Akan NPP candidate, Patricia Appiagyei, in this battle in which all the four other candidates were of northern descent?

In the Volta Region, the NPP had proclaimed turning the NDC’s electoral ‘World Bank’ into a rural bank and predicted 40% of the regional vote for the incumbent president and at least seven parliamentary seats. A number of factors might have accounted for this overconfidence on the part of the NPP. In 2000, the NDC had maintained its hold on the Volta Region in part because it had hyped the rumour that if the NPP came to power Voltarians would be driven away to Togo and would need visas to enter Ghana. After four years in power, the NPP had brought considerable developments in the region and there was no trace of the purported expulsion order. In fact, the NPP parliamentary candidate for South Dayi, E. K. Mallet, had argued that it would be unethical for the people of Volta Region to refuse to vote for President Kufuor because in spite of the region’s abysmal electoral support for the NPP government, it had been magnanimous (Daily Guide, 11 November 2004: 7). In addition, the NPP had among its parliamentary candidates well known politicians, at least four ministers; while several of the NDC third term MPs had either stood aside or had been defeated in the primaries and replaced by lesser known candidates. But the dilemma which confronted the NPP in the Volta Region was aptly captured by Kufuor’s passionate appeal in Ho to Voltarians to trust the NPP soon after he had reportedly been hooted at as his entourage passed through Akatsi by people allegedly dressed in NDC colours (Daily Graphic, 1 October 2004: 13). Had the four years of NPP rule sufficiently allayed the Ewe suspicion of an Ashanti President? Had the people in the region been convinced adequately enough that the NDC was not going to recapture power in 2004?

In 2000, the Brong Ahafo had produced one of the most surprising results in both the parliamentary and presidential polls. From 61.7% presidential vote and 17 out of 21 seats for the NDC in 1996, the region in 2000 gave the NPP 50.6% and 14 seats.  How was this ‘electoral chameleon’ of a region with traditional discontent for Ashanti hegemony going to vote after four years of an Ashanti in the Presidency?

Like Brong Ahafo, Greater Accra had made an electoral u-turn in 2000, replacing its 1996 sixty-four percent presidential vote and 13 seats out of 22 for the NDC with 52.5% and 16 seats for the NPP. The NPP had won surprise victories in several of the traditional NDC strongholds in the region.  But with the increased anti-Ashanti sentiments among the indigenous Gas, could the NPP retain those seats and make further in-roads in 2004?

In the Eastern Region, the NPP appeared to have no problem retaining its seats in the predominantly Akan constituencies. It therefore concentrated its efforts in winning for the first time the non-Akan speaking Krobo areas and the settler dominated Afram Plains, Fanteakwa and Upper West Akim.

The Northern, Upper East and Upper West regions all appeared solidly for the NDC as the NPP struggled to retain the few seats from previous elections with the albatross of the Dagbon crisis hanging around its neck.

The Central Region presented the most intriguing scenario of all. It had refused in 2000 to allow itself to be turned into the second electoral World Bank, for the NDC in spite of Mills’ “son of the soil status”. With Mills still in the saddle for the NDC, it seemed the region was not going to reject its own for a second time. At the same time the NPP had for strategic reasons taken the region as one bye-election constituency and given it a special attention in terms of development.

For the Western Region, it has traditionally voted like the Central Region, except for the CPP’s dominance in first president Nkrumah’s Nzema district.

The Electoral Verdict

Election 2004 confirmed the dominance of the NPP and the NDC. The two parties won between them more than 97% of the presidential vote with the remainder going to the Grand Coalition and the CPP. In the case of the parliamentary seats the two major parties won a total of 222 parliamentary seats leaving eight for the PNC-(4), CPP-(3) and one independent. Four other parties contested but won no seats.

Table 4.1: Regional Breakdown of Election 2004 Results for NPP and NDC

Presidential Presidential Parliament Parliament

NPP (%) NDC (%) NPP (Seats) NDC (Seats)

Western 56.64 40.89 12 8

Central 58.57 46.37 16 2

Eastern 60.27 38.38 22 6

Ashanti 74.61 24.06 36 3

Brong Ahafo 51.96 46.05 14 10

Greater Accra 51.9 46.3 16 11

Subtotal 58.99 40.3 116 40

Volta 14.6 83.83 1 21

Northern 36.2 56.94 8 17

Upper East 31.66 53.9 2 9

Upper West 36.23 56.67 1 7

Subtotal 28.59 62.84 12 54

TOTAL 52.45 44.64 128 94

Source: IEA Governance Newsletter, January 2005 and Electoral Commission, 2004 Parliamentary and Presidential Results, December 2004.

A careful analysis of the results of Election 2004 (Table 9.1 above) clearly indicates that in broad terms they were not different from Election 2000. The results confirmed the Akan/Non-Akan pattern of the previous contest.  In the presidential poll, the NPP won the same six regions it had won in 2000 – Ashanti, Brong Ahafo, Central, Eastern, Western and Greater Accra. The situation was similar at the parliamentary level except that in 2000, the NDC had narrowly won majority of seats in Central and Western. With the exception of Greater Accra, the other five regions have between 52% and 82% of the population being Akan (See Table 9.2 below). Interestingly, Greater Accra with about 40% Akans has more Akans than the Eastern Region and about the same number as Brong Ahafo Region (Table 9.2). Indeed, there are more Akans (39.7%) in Greater Accra  than Ga-Adangbes- the indigenous inhabitants of the region- who constitute 29.6% of the population(Jonah 2005: 3; 2000 Population and Housing Census: 22). The NPP’s share of the presidential vote in the six regions ranged between 51% and 75%. In the 5 Akan regions, the NPP garnered 100 of its 128 total parliamentary seats.

The reverse was the case in those regions that the NPP lost. Volta, Northern, Upper East and Upper West, on the average gave less than 30% of their presidential votes to the incumbent president; and in those four regions the NPP could garner only 12 parliamentary seats, less than 10% of its size in parliament. It must be emphasized that in none of the four regions do Akans form more than 11% of the regional population.

Table 4.2: Percentage of AKANS in the Ten Regions of Ghana

Region Total Population Akan Population %  Akan

Western 1,774,037 1,388,738 78.28

Central 1,474,584 1,208,608 81.96

Greater Accra 2,679,991 1,065,509 39.7

Eastern 1,980,719 1,031,498 52.08

Ashanti 3,154,862 2,458,088 77.91

Brong Ahafo 1,705,612 1,069,744 62.71

Volta 1,525,744 129,384 8.48

Northern 1,740,700 174,469 10.02

Upper East 851,537 19,186 2.25

Upper West 548,807 17,524 3.19

Source: 2000 Population and Housing Census, pp.22-23; cited in Jonah 2005:3

On its part the NDC won no Akan region but had between 56% and 84% of the regional presidential votes in the four Non-Akan regions that it won. More than 60% of NDC parliamentary seats (54 out of 94) also came from the four Non-Akan regions. At the presidential level, the best NDC performance in the Akan regions was 46.37% in the Central Region, the home of its presidential candidate.

The analysis of the Akan/Non-Akan divide could be stretched further in terms of the settler factor. In Ashanti Region, the only three seats the NPP lost to the NDC at both parliamentary and presidential levels were Asawase, New Edubiase, and Ejura Sekyedumase, well known for their significant Non-Akan settler communities. Indeed for the latter two the NDC had dominated throughout the four elections since 1992. It is also note worthy that in Ashanti; the 24% presidential vote for the NDC reflects closely 23% Non-Akan regional population (Table 9.2).  The Eastern Region provides another test case in this respect. Three of the six constituencies that the NDC won at both levels were non-Akan- Yilo, Upper Manya and Lower Manya- Krobo. The other three, Upper West Akim, Afram Plains South and Afram Plains North are Non-Akan settler-dominated.  And in Brong Ahafo, NDC took three of the four constituencies that share borders with the Northern Region- Kintampo North, Pru and Sene. The only exception was Tain (formerly Wenchi West) which the NPP captured for the first time in 2004.

The respective traditional dominance of the NPP and NDC in the Ashanti and the Volta regions remained virtually intact. In Ashanti, the NPP won 36 out of 39 seats in both polls. In the Volta Region, the NDC won 21 out of 22. The NPP only managed to win its first seat in the Fourth Republic. Significantly, the Nkwanta North constituency is the farthest from the Ewe-dominated south and, ironically, its parliamentary candidate one of the least resourced. All the four high profile and better resourced minister-cum-parliamentary candidates in Akan, Ketu North, Biakoye and Ho West, lost miserably in spite of all the pre-election hype; perhaps a confirmation of the notion that in the Volta Region, membership of NPP is seen as a sell-out. All that incumbent President Kufour could get for his special efforts to court the region was 3.1% increase in the votes from 11.5% in the 2000 run-off to 14.6% in 2004. He had lost in all the 22 constituencies to Mills and scored less than 10% in 12 constituencies.

The three northern regions retained their support for the NDC which won 33 of the possible 49 seats and between 53% and 57% of the presidential vote.  In Tamale South, the prominent NPP candidate, Mustapha Idris, lost heavily to young Iddrisu Haruna but this apparent ‘Dagbon fallout’ was balanced by Malik Yakubu’s surprise retention of the Yendi seat.

It was also ethnically significant that the CPP and the PNC won two seats each in the respective home districts of their founders/godfathers ex-presidents Kwame Nkrumah and Hilla Limann – Ellembelle and Evalue Gwira (Western Region) in the case of the former and for the latter, Sisalla East and West (Upper West Region).

Central Region: Heroes or Villians?

What appeared to be the surprise package in Election 2004 was the Central Region vote. The NDC flag-bearer Mills trailed the incumbent president 46.37% to 58.57%, a significant 12.2% in the former’s home region. Indeed, Mills lost in all the 19 constituencies except two - his home constituency, Mfatseman East and newly created Twifo-Atti Morkwaa Constituency. At the parliamentary level, the NDC lost 8 seats,  and found its previous regional parliamentary majority reduced to only two seats. Other aspects of this electoral ‘Tsunami’ made the matter more intriguing. The NDC flagbearer had improved his 2000 performance from 20.1% to 24.1% in the ‘lion’s den’ of Ashanti Region where the incumbent President had his 2000 run-off vote of 79.9% reduced to 74.6%. Mills also performed better in the five other regions that the NPP won than he did in the 2000 run-off except the Central Region (Electoral Commission, 2000 & 2004).

The reactions to the Central Region vote were charged with emotions and in the process threw up several issues related to the Ethnicity-Democracy interface. Instead of applauding the non-ethnic performance of the Central Regional and the moderating influence it had on the ethnic divide there were anti-Fanti bashing. Ironically, Ashantis and Ewes who voted largely on primordial lines were spared the scorn.

Sections of the Fante community in Kumasi reportedly witnessed widespread incidents of taunting in the settler dominated suburbs of Oforikrom, Anloga and Aboabo. According to The Chronicle, NDC supporters –mainly Ewes and Northerners- were insistent that ‘Fantes are concert people and foolish for not voting for their own.’ And that they should go and perform at the National Theatre that the NDC built for them (Ghanaweb/ The Chronicle, 10 December 2004).

In Accra NDC women activists felt the party needed to ‘storm the Central Region and shake the place in a way for Fantis to see their mistake’. Others even suggested, perhaps comically, that Mills renounced his Fanti ancestry and naturalize as an Ewe (Ghanaweb/ GNA 10 December 2004).

Other commentaries, sometimes from well educated people, described the vote in very unsavoury terms such as ‘a collective and vicious Fanti betrayal’, ‘a political dagger’, a ‘thrust in the heart of their own’ (Ghanaweb 16 December 2004).

The emotions aside, a major factor that accounted for the rejection of Mills in the Central Region was the Rawlings ‘baggage’. Doubts about Mills’ ability to shake off Rawlings and be his own man that caused his defeat in the region in 2000 remained (Frempong 2001: 158). This perception manifested in several ways:

Mills did himself a great disservice by adopting ‘Sankofa’ as his initial campaign slogan. It was difficult explaining that it did not mean a return to atrocities of the Rawlings era. ‘For A Better Ghana’- the party’s election manifesto arrived rather too late.

The people of the region saw how Rawlings wanted to push his will on Kufuor and wondered what he would do if Mills, who had promised to consult him 24 hours a day, were elected. The slogan ‘Vote for Mills and You Get Rawlings Free’ resonated well in Central Region.

At several stops during his campaign in the Central Region, Mills talked tough and the more he did so the more he became cast in the mould of his mentor and the more he confirmed the view that he was paving the way for his former boss. In addition, Mills stance as a Fanti Warrior in the region did not fit into the image of ‘the prince of peace’ (Asomdwiehene) he was projecting nationally (Daily Graphic, 17 December 2004 p.14).

Some of the utterances of Rawlings were not only scaring but also insulting. His ‘I will be Back’ speech at the launch of the NDC campaign in Cape Coast confirmed their lingering fears. And his rumblings about the quality of drinking water in Dunkwa brought back sad memories of his previous call on the people of Cape Coast to learn the hygienic consciousness of the cat (Ghanaweb/The Chronicle 15 December 2004).

In a sarcastic sense, the people of Central Region felt by voting against Mills they were releasing him from the political ramshackle of Rawlings.

Central Region proved by its vote that its loyalties are not tied to primordial relations, but to exigencies of the time and for strategic calculations. A careful analysis of the voting pattern in the region since the Second Republic clearly confirms this view.

The picture is even more interesting particularly at the presidential level in the Fourth Republic. In 1992, Rawlings got 66.5%, though a number of the presidential candidates were from the Central Region. In 1996 when none of the presidential candidates was from the region, Rawlings’ vote reduced by 10.8% to 55.7%. The 43.7% that Mills got in the first round in 2000 represented another 12% reduction on the NDC’s 1996 vote. On the other hand, the NPP’s 26% in 1992 climbed up by 16.9% to 42.9% in 1996. In the first round in 2000, with three other sons of the region in the race, the ‘stranger’ Kufuor bagged 49.7%. In the run-off, the region did its ethnic worst by again giving Kufuor 60.3% and Mills 39.7% and damned the consequences.

It should be clear therefore that the 58.8% of the vote that the Central Region gave Kufuor was consistent with its voting tradition. Simply put, the hope that the NDC banked on the region was, to all intents and purposes, a false one. And I have no doubt that the Central Region will vote at the next election the way it will, depending on how things go over the next four years. In my opinion, none was as objective as the Central Region vote. It portrayed a high level of maturity and civility, a better appreciation of democracy and independent-mindedness that must be applauded rather than condemned. The voters in Central region were democratic heroes rather than the ethnic villains that they were made to appear.

Lessons

Several lessons can be distilled from this study; some of them positive others negative:

Election 2004, in spite of the apparent Akan/Non-Akan divide, confirmed that legislative and presidential victories often require appeals across ethnic groups to gain a minimum wining coalition. Clearly, Kufuor’s re-election would have been in jeopardy without the support, however little, of the Non-Akan regions, and so would have been the NPP parliamentary majority without the twenty eight seats won from those five Non-Akan regions.

The Central Region vote showed the beauty of a free exercise of universal adult suffrage, that Ghanaians must not vote for candidates merely because they come from their home-village, town, district or region. It is therefore a blight on democracy when people are ridiculed at publicly for exercising their right in a particular way, more so when as in the case of the Central Region, they were doing the proper thing-rejecting ethnicity in favour of what they felt was in their best socioeconomic interest.

It has also been confirmed by this study that ethnicity remains at the root of the electoral process in Ghana, particularly as a tool of mobilizing grassroots support. At the same time, pushing the ethnic card is one of the easiest ways to inflame passions and arouse emotional responses. Analysing issues with tainted ethnic goggles does not give room for objectivity; rather it beclouds people’s sense of judgment and poisons the political atmosphere. Are we not heading for a situation in which any critic of the Kufuor administration is automatically branded an Ewe and NDC and any supporter an Ashanti and NPP?. But is the NPP equal to Ashanti and the NDC synonymous with Ewe in a country whose Constitution demands in Article 55 (4) that “Every political party shall have a national character, and membership shall not be based on ethnic, religious, regional and other sectional divisions”?

Election 2004 confirmed further that not even ethnicity, or any other factor alone, can determine the outcome of elections. Other factors like region, level of literacy and rural-urban ratio, poverty, unemployment, and government performance (governance deficit or dividend) all work together to determine the final outcome of the vote.

Unless democratic regimes can build a sense of overriding societal interests as a whole, they are not likely to provide an effective bulwark against parochial interests over the long term. A consensus vision of democracy, incorporating various power sharing arrangements may be necessary to reassure weaker parties about their security and the protection of their interests. Political actors, therefore, should be prepared to live by and uphold democratic rules on participation, transparency accountability and respect for diversity.

The emerging situation where even matters of national interests such as national reconciliation, national health insurance, education, funding development projects, tend to take ethnic and/or partisan interpretation does not augur well for democracy. Such ethnic politics takes place at the expense of national ideals and interests and spawns hatred, witch hunting, lack of inter-ethnic trust, ethnic clashes, etc, which in turn, not only threaten to split the nation but also endanger the security of  individuals and their property

Freedom of expression can either make or mar democratic consolidation. The media in particular could be an effective tool of civic education and the management of peaceful inter-ethnic co-existence; if misused, the media could inflame ethnic passions. Several examples of slanted reporting cited in this study demonstrate the dangers that irresponsible journalism pose especially during elections.

Overall, election processes in Ghana, despite their emphasis on individual choice and the possibility of cross party voting, remain vulnerable to elite manipulation along ethnic lines especially where elites play upon latent fears that members hold about their group’s security and economic well being.

Conclusion

It is evident from the Ghanaian situation that democracy does not automatically and necessarily lead to fewer ethnic conflicts; and that, ethnicity is a reality that can be mobilized for electoral purposes. Therefore:

There is the need for sensitivity towards the interests and demands of various ethnic groups as well as coherence and consistency in the manner in which ethnic demands are addressed. Indeed, the success of the democratic experiment in defusing ethnic tensions will depend on the speed with which ethnic issues are recognized and attended to. It is important to enhance the equitable distribution of national resources and transparent approach to the recruitment into the civil and all other public services.

It must be emphasized that successful democratization requires continuous interaction among interest groups over time. As elites reciprocate and political exchanges occur, trust can develop among the various parties. But where some elements of the political elite ignore the norm of moderation and engage in efforts to outbid each other, the effect is increased ethnic tensions, particularly as elections approach and the stakes in politics rise.

Leaders should as well encourage parties based on policies that transcend ethnic conglomeration and ensure that they become instruments of public education and not weapons of ethnic politics.

Democracy calls for civic education programmes in and out of school on fundamental issues which affect the essence of interdependence and peaceful co-existence between the ethnic groups.  Civic education should develop, conscientize and empower Ghanaians to appreciate and cope with social and cultural diversities, without conflict. It should therefore be the duty of every citizen to put up a national frontage and minimize the negative consequences of ethnicity.

There is a further need for a shared history of cooperation through intermarriages and common infrastructures which bring mutual dependence. This will lead to the development of mutual sensitivity and the desire towards a common peaceful future. A lot too can be achieved in ethnic relations through policies that seek to deconstruct myths, stereotypes and prejudices through the creative use of public discourse and humour.

Cultural diversity should not be seen as barrier to national unity and peaceful co-existence.  We are born of different ethnic groups we cannot change; but I refuse to believe that because our ethnic groups have different backgrounds, culture and customs, we cannot build a Ghanaian nation.

All said and done, since we cannot wish away the fact that Ghana is a nation of many peoples and traditions, the country can only operate at its harmonious best when the various cultures, traditions, languages and histories of all those peoples are reflected in the project of nation-building.

CHIEFS AND POLITICIANS IN GHANA: COMPETITORS, COLLABORATORS OR UNEASY BEDFELLOWS?

 EMMANUEL SIAW & ALEX K. D. FREMPONG

Introduction

Chieftaincy was the main institution of governance before the white man arrived in Africa. Since then the institution has gone through several phases and numerous challenges but it has demonstrated resilience and survived. One major challenge has been the relationship between chiefs and politicians, in broader terms, chieftaincy-state relations. Are chiefs and politicians competitors, collaborators, uneasy bedfellows or all three rolled into one?

Chiefs and politicians can be supportive of each other in governance and development when they choose to work as partners. But, willy-nilly, chiefs and politicians have viewed their relationship with caution at best and mutual distrust at worst. Chiefs have always claimed to be the true representatives of the people and are never comfortable with their weakened authority vis-à-vis politicians who are in control of the state. They also have a sense of being manipulated by politicians. On their part, politicians feel chieftaincy is undemocratic and could be a threat to their political fortunes and a source of political instability. They also find chiefs inconsiderate in their demands and do not relish the chiefs’ claim to greater legitimacy. Clearly such attitudes impact negatively on both governance and development.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             

In the Ghanaian context, this uneasy relationship has prevailed from the colonial times (between the colonial authorities, chiefs and educated commoners) and since independence from the deliberate effort to weaken the institution during the Nkrumah years, through the somewhat cordiality for the next two decades to the topsy-turvy one under the PNDC. In the Fourth Republic, the exclusion of chiefs from active partisan politics has forced the chiefs to walk a tight rope between obedience to their constitutional exclusion and their role as agents of development, which demands dealing with the politicians.

This paper examines the nuances of measures various governments adopted in their dealings with the institution of chieftaincy and the latter’s responses and adaptability in the various phases of Ghana’s history over the last six decades and provides some takeaways for improved relations for better governance and sustainable development.

In this paper, the term ‘chief’ is used to represent the institution of chieftaincy in all its ramifications, what may be broadly described as traditional leadership or traditional governance;  and ‘politician’ is used to refer to all officials of the state including the president, vice president, ministers, MPs, local government officials, political party officials etc.

Issues of Traditional Authority/Leadership and Governance

Traditional Authority in Africa

Weber (1958) defines traditional authority as that which gains legitimacy through the sanctity of tradition. This is distinct from rational-legal authority, which is manifested mostly in the bureaucratic state and maintains power through support of normative rules (laws). Weber imagined that societies generally transitioned from traditional to legal-rational authority in a linear fashion, without the two ever necessarily co-existing (Bonoff 2016: 4). And that is why the existence of traditional authority in many developing countries is intriguing in itself. In the case of Africa, chieftaincies are islands of non-elected government within democratic states. They have the large support from the same citizens who also support democracy (Logan 2013, 2009). Sklar (1999, 2003) refers to this arrangement as ‘mixed government’ or ‘mixed polity’ arguing that African countries display dual authority between traditional and legal rulers who co-determine governance.

Across Africa, there is variability in the details of a ‘chief’, in what the institution of chieftaincy looked like historically, in what sorts of rules, roles and relationships imposed on them by both colonial and post-colonial administrations and how they have adapted to the many pressures of competing incentives they have faced over the years. In the present, there are substantial differences in terms of the extent to which their positions have been integrated into or marginalized from the state bureaucracy, what resources they command and in the nature and extent of both their official and unofficial roles in governing their communities (Logan 2008: 2).

At the same time there are commonalties. Chiefs generally occupy their posts by virtue of some sort of hereditary (albeit often contested) claim rather than through elections. But more importantly, they are recognized as having connections to their society’s cultural and historic roots in ways that official government figures (politicians) do not (Ibid: 3).

 Chiefs in Modern Governance

The role of traditional leaders in modern African democracies, is complex and multifaceted. While modernists see traditional political systems as relics of the past that may actually impede democratic development, traditional institutions have proved both malleable and adaptable. Even though they are much changed, chiefs still draw on their historical roots in unique and valuable ways and they are a resource to strengthen both the community and the polity (Ibid: 1).This ‘ability of chiefs to straddle the state-society dichotomy’ and serve as necessary intermediaries for their people is a strength of the institution that helps to explain its survival (Williams 2004: 121).

It is difficult to deny that chiefs have demonstrated remarkable resilience and their continuing importance in the social and political life of their communities, is virtually indisputable. In many places, they still play a major role in managing land tenure, dispensing local justice, implementing customary law, resolving conflict and they are often perceived as the guardians of their communities’ culture (Logan 2008: 5). Chiefs may also be valued because they provide a sense of continuity and stability in an era of great change. Williams (2004: 112) suggests that they can served as intermediaries to ‘ensure that change occurs in an orderly and familiar way’. Yet at the same time, chiefs have also displayed impressive flexibility, adapting to needs of the day in an effort to preserve or enhance their position with flexibility with the local communities (Logan 2008: 6).

Chiefs and Politicians

The relations between chiefs and politicians are even more complex. Some see chiefs and politicians as competitors. To them, the struggle between the two for political power and legitimacy is a zero-sum game - whatever authority a traditional ruler wrenches from the state is treated as a loss of ‘official’ state leadership and vice versa (Logan, 2008: 1). The contest with politicians (government authorities) is particularly acute at the local level where chiefs exert the most influence on the daily lives of Africans, compared to the national level where chiefs are restricted to cultural and advisory roles (Ibid: 1, 5). According to Oomen (2000:14) chiefs and local government officials are often perceived as being in direct competition –like ‘two bulls in a kraal –in a winner-takes-all battle for the hearts, minds and resources of local communities.

To others, a collaborative relationship exists between elected politicians and chiefs. To increase their chances for electoral success, politicians seek to recruit chiefs to mobilize citizens to vote on their behalf. In exchange for this service, chiefs gain greater fiscal autonomy with less government interference. This trade of services between chiefs and politicians enriches chiefs financially and increases their legitimacy as powerful figures in the community. In addition, with more power comes an increased ability to deliver the vote. This form of collusion produces complementarities between chiefs and politicians (Bonoff 2016: 1-2).  Thus, chiefs and politicians are often perceived as complicit collaborators, self-serving on both ends. As Van Kessel & Oomen (1997: 562) observe ‘chiefs often align themselves … with the powers that seem to offer the best chances of safeguarding their positions’. In Ghana, chiefs have a high level of cultural and institutional power which enables them to be effective mobilizers and thus be recruited by politicians (Bonoff 2016: 42).

At the same time, for most Africans who live under the dual authority of chiefs and politicians, far from them being in stark competition for public esteem, they are seen as two sides of the same coin. In the perceptions of ordinary Africans, it seems that politicians and chiefs can indeed co-exist, even if sometimes uneasily (Logan, 2008: iii, 1-2).

Modern African governments, however, have struggled with how best to relate with chiefs, who have been banned, deposed and jailed and they have been courted, coddled and paid state salaries, along with just about everything in-between and sometimes all at the hands of the same governments as they struggle to adapt to their own shifting fortunes (Logan, 2008: 5). As Lawson (2002: 9) notes, “at the end of the day, the state remained dependent upon traditional authorities for access to  rural society’ so it is uncommon for new and confident administrations to dismiss traditional leadership in their early days, only to come begging for a boost as their popularity sagged in later years. 

In whatever way we perceive chieftaincy-state relations, the point still remains that decades of manipulation by colonial and post-colonial governments, has often had deep impacts on both the status of chiefs and the very nature of the institution (Lawson 2002). Cooptation by colonial governments into the British system of ‘indirect rule’, for example, both strengthened and weakened the hand of traditional leadership, sometimes at the same time. And the efforts of modern African leaders to either undermine traditional leaders and allegiance, or to politicize and thereby co-opt these potential vote brokers’ have further affected their standing (Logan, 2008: 4).

With a well-documented history of state-chieftaincy relations, Ghana provides an interesting window on the role of chiefs in electoral politics. Over time, the state has vacillated back and forth between embracing traditional authority systems as they are and attempting to constrain or crush them (Bonoff 2016: 41-43).

Chiefs and Politicians in Ghana: A Historical Sketch

The Pre-Colonial Era

In Ghana, the institution of chieftaincy has pre-colonial roots. The chief emerged as a natural leader and essentially the father of the traditional state over which he presided and was highly respected. He was not only the military leader and defender of his people, but also the religious leader. In addition, he performed judicial, administrative, economic and cultural functions. Indeed, the chief was the embodiment of the beliefs, hopes, fears and aspirations of his people.  (Abotchie 2006: 169). Since the advent of colonialism, however, modern institutional mechanisms have taken over some of these functions and the chief has had to struggle for influence against politicians.

The Colonial Era

Since colonialism, chiefs’ power has been subject to the consent of formal government. At both national and local level, politicians have had great discretion regarding how much autonomy to give chiefs (Boone 2003). 

The imposition of colonial rule meant the loss of a large portion of the authority of the chief. The reasons for the existence of the institution of chieftaincy, its mode of operations and its financial system, were all re-cast to suit the purposes of the colonial authority (Brempong 2006: 28). Colonial power devised an arrangement to delegate authority to the local power structure for effective control. Known as indirect rule, traditional authority was brought into state governance as an extension of central administration to implement certain agenda of government, which empowered chiefs to maintain peace and order (Ofori Panyin 2010:3-4). Thus, early British colonials left chiefs reasonably autonomous in the political sphere.  While chiefs forfeited their militaries they retained broad administrative and judicial powers during the period. (Berry 2001). 

During the Second World War, chiefs stood against the educated elites who had been neglected by the British because they were considered ‘deracinated, anomalous and self-seeking’ compared to the chiefs who were perceived as natural rulers. In the 1946 Burns Constitution, chiefs dominated the African representation on the Legislative Council by 13 to five against the educated commoners (Knierzinger 2011: 6). However, the gap between the chiefs and the educated elite narrowed with the formation of the United Gold Coast Convention (UGCC) in 1947.

The Nkrumah Years (1951-1966)

As British rule neared its end, however, the relationship between chiefs and the state began to shift to a more hostile one, with the emergence of the Convention People’s Party (CPP) under the leadership of Kwame Nkrumah. The stalwarts of the CPP were often depicted as ‘small boys’ or ‘veranda boys’ (Nugent 1996a), who were not related to royal families and had often been fighting directly against the chiefs in their areas. Most of the chiefs were against the fight for independence because they expected their position to be less powerful afterwards. Also, because of their role as middlemen between the colonial power and the population they were, in a certain sense, doomed right from the start of the nationalist movement (Knierzinger 2011: 6). Hagan (2006: 663) captures the situation succinctly:

In the struggle for independence therefore, many powerful chiefs were viewed with apprehension by the emergence of radical grassroots leadership which was poised not only to overthrow foreign domination but to challenge the traditional system of authority the colonial authorities relied upon.

The CPP saw chiefs as collaborators with the imperialists and throughout its long tenure devised measures to weaken the position of chiefs. This attitude was aptly captured in Nkrumah’s well-known and often quoted statement in 1950:

Those of our chiefs who are with us … we do honour … those … who join forces with the imperialists … there shall come a time when they will run and leave their sandals behind them; in other words, chiefs in league with imperialists who obstruct our path … will one day run away and leave their tools (Accra Evening News, 5-1-1950).

Boafo-Arthur has argued that much of this was reactionary and punitive response. To him:

Efforts to whittle the powers of chiefs especially in the immediate post-independence period could be seen as a way of revenge for the solid defence of the colonial system by the chiefs. It was also a way of ensuring that no pockets of political power centres capable of rivaling the authority of the post-colonial state existed (Boafo-Arthur 2003: 130; 2006: 148).

After becoming Prime Minister, Nkrumah did not hesitate to circumscribe the powers of the chiefs at the local level.  Among the measures taken in the period before independence were:

In 1952,  by the Local Government Ordinance, the powers of the state councils, the most important councils of the chiefs at the district level, were restricted to tasks concerning chieftaincy matters and were replaced by Local Councils where only one third of the members could be chiefs or people appointed by them (Knierzinger 2011: 6).

Pro-CPP chiefs were retained, while others were fired (Ibid).

In 1955, by the Staff (Local Government Council) Regulations, the government took absolute controlled the appointment and dismissal of senior local council officers (Rathbone 2000:83ff).

Also the 1955 amendment of the State Council Ordinance allowed sub-chiefs to appeal over the heads of their paramount chiefs to appeals commissioners, which reduced the power of paramount chiefs (Rathbone 2000: 83ff; Knierzinger 2011: 9).

At the national level, the Legislative Assembly which in 1951 had 37 territorial council representatives out of the 75 African representation were replaced in 1954 by the all-elected 104-member Legislative Assembly (Austin 1964; Boahen 1975; Frempong 2015, 2017).

In response, in the period 1954-1956, chiefs of Asante and Akyem Abuakwa, led by opposition leaders who had grouped themselves in the National Liberation Movement (NLM), revolted against the rule of the CPP. The NLM wanted a constitutional settlement that would safeguard the position of chiefs though their demands were cast in the form of protests against the perceived as the emerging dictatorship of Nkrumah and the CPP. Significantly, the NLM demanded for a federal system of government and a second chamber of chiefs (Brempong 2006:29). 

The NLM could not wrestled power from the CPP but it succeeded in getting an independent constitution which guaranteed the institution of chieftaincy in accordance with tradition custom and usage and the creation of regional houses of chiefs to resolve chieftaincy disputes in addition to regional assemblies. This however did not deter Nkrumah  and the CPP-dominated Parliament from passing laws that minimized the political and judicial roles of chiefs, broke their financial backbone and made them passive appendages to the central government (Brempong 2006: 30; Frempong 2007: 55).

The various acts relating to chieftaincy in these respects included (Rathbone 2000; Brempong 2006; Knierzinger 2011):

The Constitution (Repeal of Chieftaincy Restrictions) Act, 1958, which enabled the government to act in chieftaincy matters without consultation with the Regional Houses of Chiefs, as provided for in the Constitution; 

The Ashanti Stool Lands Act, 1958 which vested the trusteeship of Ashanti lands in the Governor-General (Government of Ghana).

The Akyem Abuakwa (Stool Revenue) Act, 1958 which took away the chiefs’ authority over stool revenue.

The Local Council Act, 1958, abolished the Native Authority Tribunals.

In February 1959 the government passed the Chiefs (Recognition) Bill which formalized all the measures already taken, From then on (i) no destoolment or enstoolment was effective if the government didn’t agree, (ii) a chief could lose his position without being formally destooled if the government wanted to do so, and (iii) chiefs could be ordered into internal exile. 

The Constitution (Amendment) Act, 1959 which facilitated the creation of more regions, specifically the carving of the Brong Ahafo Region out of Ashantti.

In addition, in the immediate post-independence era, there were specific measures that targeted chiefs in Ashanti and Akyem Abuakwa (Rathbone 2000; Knierzinger 2011). In the case of Akyem Abuakwa:

In October 1957,  the Okyenhene was induced in the presence of  Minister of Interior Krobo Edusei, to publicly denounce his support for the opposition and to pledge the support of his people for the ruling CPP.

The CPP government later withdrew recognition of the Okyenhene, permanently removed and deported him from Akim Abuakwa. 

This further triggered the destoolment of over 100 minor chiefs in Akim Abuakwa to set example for other chiefs. 

After his enstoolment, the new Okyenhene, after stressing complete loyalty to Nkrumah, pointedly asked for government-funded development in his area.

Around the same time, the CPP government was on very good terms with the Chief of Kukurantumi, the second in command to the Okyenhene, whose support was rewarded with a secondary school and later an ambassadorial appointment to India (Boahen 1975).

On the part of Ashanti:

The same spectacle as the Okyenhene was replayed a few weeks later by the Asantehene, the president of the opposition NLM, declaring that chiefs should not take part in party politics.

While the CPP government found it too dangerous to destool the Asantehene, it deconstructed the Ashanti Confederacy at the stroke of a pen. Eight new paramount chiefs were enstooled and two were degraded.

And in September 1959, the government ‘recognized’ the enstoolment of 84 and the destoolment and the destoolment of 32 chiefs. This scale of reconstruction by far exceeded the internal changes made in colonial times. Virtually all the paramount chiefs were CPP sympathizers at this point (Rathbone 2000; Knierzinger 2011).

The 1960 Constitution of the First Republic, interestingly stated in Article 13 that ‘chieftaincy should be guaranteed and preserved’. This however was part of the Declaration of Fundamental Principles the president made on assumption of office but not justiciable in the law courts (Frempong 2007:58). In effect, the guarantee and preservation of the institution was only on the terms of the CPP government. Not surprisingly, the Chieftaincy Act (No.81) of 1961 made recognition of a chief subject to approval by the Minister of Local Government. The consequence of Act 81 was that chiefs were made passive agents of the government and effectively the only traditional role left for them was the pouring of libation (Brempong 2006: 31). Under the circumstances, it is intriguing that the Nkrumah government did not abolish the institution altogether. Thankfully, the institution survived the incessant political assault of the CPP until it was somehow ‘rescued’ by the 1966 coup.

Rathbone (2000:161) sums up state-chieftaincy relations in the Nkrumah years as follows:

The turbulent history of chieftaincy under the CPP was in large measure the product of a battle for control of the countryside which was clearly won by the ruling party. Although the CPP had been committed to something close to the destruction of chieftaincy, political expediency eventually suggested that it needed instead to create an entirely different kind of chieftaincy, entirely dependent upon the government for its legitimacy, maintenance and survival and hence chieftaincy that was a subset of the government itself.

Between 1951 and the start of the First republic, the CPP government sought to discard the chiefly principle in local government, then to weaken chieftaincy by attrition and eventually, by altering the legal basis of chieftaincy, to incorporate and control a considerably altered chieftaincy. Chieftaincy was consciously and systematically reconstructed in the decade of the 1950s with implications which can still be felt in Ghana (Rathbone 2000: Backcover).

From the National Liberation Council (NLC) to the Third Republic (1966-1981)

The NLC Era

Following the February 1966 coup, the police/military junta which assumed office, the National Liberation Council (NLC), worked closely with several members of the former opposition United Party (UP) including Busia and Edward Akufo-Addo. Not surprisingly, one of the first acts of the NLC was to destool several chiefs that had been propped up by the previous government (Knierzinger 2011). NLC Decree No. 112 sought to remove all those chiefs who could be shown to have been the direct result of the CPP government’s patronage. It also demoted all those sub-chiefs who had been promoted to paramount chief status by the ousted government. The decree said in part: 

Chiefs at any time occupying stools specified in this …, these stools, the Chiefs of which were contrary to customary law … elevated … to the status of paramount chiefs by the government of Kwame Nkrumah shall …be deemed to have be deemed to have reverted to the status enjoyed by the chiefs of these tools immediately before the said elevation (NLCD No. 112, 5 December 1966, para 1, cited in Rathbone 2000: 161).

Well over 100 chiefs were destooled as a result of this decision, more than 40% in Ashanti alone. Significantly, the CPP-approved Okyenhene of Akyem Abuakwa was destooled and Nana Ofori Atta II was re-enstooled. A larger number of chiefs were stripped of their paramountcies and demoted to sub-chief status or destooled, mostly in Ashanti, Brong Ahafo and Volta regions. However, the damage to chieftaincy was not completely repaired as the new regime retained the relic of the Nkrumah era by which recognition of chiefs were dependent on the state (Rathbone 2000: 161-162).  

The Second Republic

The Second Republic’s 1969 Constitution noted that the state was entitled to determine the status of a chief for the purposes of that chiefs dealings with the state. If chiefs wanted to have access to state-controlled development projects and funds they had no choice but to accept state sovereignty in this matter. Despite these limitations the constitution did recognize the principle of very limited non-state controlled customary sphere of chiefs (Articles 154 & 155) (Ray 1999: 60).

On the other hand, the 1969 Constitution did not debar chiefs from partisan politics and indeed a number of 140 MPs elected in August were chiefs. Significantly, one of them became the Deputy Speaker of the Parliament of the Second Republic (Frempong 2017) and at the local level, chiefs, among other things became heads of the District Councils (Gyampo 2007: 38).

The Chieftaincy Act, 1971 (Act 370) was an act to amend the statute law on chieftaincy in order to bring it into conformity with the provisions of the 1969 Constitution and to make other provisions relating to chieftaincy (Preamble). It made provision, for the first time, for the National House of Chiefs) to perform functions conferred on it by article 154 of the 1969 Constitution (Section 2). There was provision for a Regional House of chiefs in each region to perform similar functions at the regional level. More importantly, the quota of one-third advisory membership on the local government council was restored.

However, some of the previous limitations were retained. While the initial determination of chiefs’ status was to be made on customary criteria by the customary office-selectors, Section 48 (1) of Act 370 provided in part “…no person shall be deemed to be a Chief … unless he has been recognized as such by the Minister by notice published in the Local Government Bulletin”. By implication, like the Nkrumah era the cabinet minister could legally prevent a person from claiming to be a chief.

The NRC/SMC/Union Government/AFRC

Four months after the overthrow of the Busia government, the National Redemption Council (NRC) government added to the state’s control over chiefs by dictating the rules of procedure for the National and Regional Houses of Chiefs in the Chieftaincy (National and Regional Houses of Chiefs) Procedures Rules, 1972. It also specified more closely the jurisdiction of Traditional Councils in Chieftaincy in the Proceedings and Functions (Traditional Councils) Regulation, 1972 (Ray 1999: 60).

However, during the Union Government campaign (1977-1978), the Acheampong-led SMC-1 government tacitly rallied on chiefs in support of the proposal. They were enticed to hold durbars and declare publicly their personal and their people’s support for union government (Oquaye 1980: 87). 

The three-month rule of the Armed Forces Revolutionary Council (June-September 1979) were turbulent for chiefs. AFRC Chairman Rawlings insisted he did not seek cheap popularity from chiefs and castigated them for ‘their unwillingness to stand firm against injustice’ and lamented that when they occasionally spoke, their utterances were in ‘soft-glove language …with their eyes firmly planted on … personal benefits rather than on the betterment of society as a whole’ (Oquaye 1980: 155-156).

The Third Republic

A significant shift in the Ghanaian state’s ability to determine the status of chiefs occurred during the 1979-1981 Third Republic. The 1979 Constitution transferred this authority from the government to those chiefs who controlled the House of Chiefs System. In this sense, chiefs regained some autonomy. Thus, the Constitution removed the ability of central state organs (Parliament and the President) to intervene in chieftaincy disputes regarding who was or was not a chief (Article 177). As previously, appeals to the Ghanaian courts on legal procedures were possible and final appeal to the Supreme Court remained an option. The Ghanaian state therefore relinquished some of its power (Ray 1999: 60-61)

As in 1969, the Third Republican Constitution of 1979 had no restriction on chiefs’ participating in partisan politics. Nana Akuoko-Sarpong (Agogohene) for example was the PFP MP for Asante Akim North (Frempong 2017).

The PNDC Era

At the start of the 31st December 1981 revolution, chiefs were seen as counter-revolutionary and therefore forbidden from belonging to such revolutionary organs as the People’s/Workers Defence Committees (P/WDCs) (Ray 1999).These organs of “people’s power” created problems for chiefs, because they began to replace chiefs as the ‘legitimate’ source of political authority at the grassroots (Gyampo 2007: 38) and indeed some chiefs were destooled (Danso-Boafo 2012: 120). Against this background, it is an intriguing revelation that the policy shift on chieftaincy under the 1979 Constitution was maintained during the first four years of the PNDC government of Flt. Lt J. J. Rawlings. The 30th December 1982 Provisional National Defence Council (Establishment) Proclamation (Supplementary and Consequential Provisions) Law, PNDC Law 42 Section 53 reaffirmed the 1979 arrangement (Ray 1999:61). Also the P/WDCs metamorphosed, along the line, into the Committees for the Defence of the Revolution (CDRs) and chiefs and other higher ups in society could become members. Indeed the PNDC would later appoint some chiefs to important positions: Naa Polku Konkuu Chiri as member of the PNDC, Nana Akuoko-Sarpong as PNDC Secretary (Minister), Nana Oduro Numapau as Deputy Chairman of the Interim National Election Commission (INEC), among others.

But in the mid-1980s an increasing number of chieftaincy disputes led the PNDC to reinstitute state approval for changes in a chief’s status and it passed a number of legislative instruments which seriously impacted on state-chieftaincy relations:

The 1985 Chieftaincy (Amendment) Law, PNDCL 107, effectively rolled back the chiefly gains of the 1979 Constitution by restoring the provisions of the 1971 Chieftaincy Act on the need for state recognition before a person could claim to be a chief or act as a chief (Ray 1999: 61). Indeed, the PNDC Secretary for Chieftaincy Affairs was empowered to intervene as he believed necessary (Ray 2003: 268).

The 1987 Chieftaincy (Membership of Regional Houses of Chiefs) (Amendment) Instrument (L.I. 1348) acknowledged and authorized the creation of new Paramount Chiefs in Brong Ahafo and their incorporation into the Regional House of Chiefs.

The PNDC, by the Chieftaincy (Specified Areas) (Prohibition and Abatement of Chieftaincy Proceedings) Law, 1989, PNDCL 212  attempted to end efforts to destool four state-recognized chiefs by commanding termination of all measures using custom, the courts or the Houses of Chiefs to withdraw such recognition (Ghana, 23 March 1989; Ray 1999: 61).

At the local level, the PNDC regime, in 1988, reversed course again passing the Local Government Law, which removed the one-third quota for chiefs on the District Assemblies (and created much animosity between the government and chiefs). Significantly, this exclusion would be retained in the 1992 Fourth Republican Constitution.

However by 1990, Rawlings and his PNDC government’s attitude to chiefs had changed a great deal. While admitting that chieftaincy conflicts had broken down the lives of local people in some areas, Rawlings appealed to chiefs to contribute their resources to the state’s efforts. In his words: “the institution of chieftaincy has so much that is good, so much potential to mobilize the people for development towards a better life” (Rawlings 23rd August 1990; cited in Ray 2003: 248).

State-Chieftaincy Relations in the Fourth Republic

The Constitutional Prescriptions

Chapter 22 (Articles 270-277) of the 1992 Constitution of the Fourth Republic, on the one hand, represents a shift back to the Third Republic’s policy of constitutionally-limiting the state’s powers to control the recognition of chiefs. On the other hand, the Constitution has presented chiefs with the ‘dual exclusion’ of non-involvement in partisan politics at the national level and the non-institutional representation at the District Assembly level and its substructures. At the same time, the Constitution provides several other roles chiefs can perform. It is these provisions that have shaped state-chieftaincy relations in the current constitutional dispensation.

In Article 270 (1) guarantees the ‘institution of chieftaincy, together with its traditional councils as established customary law and usage’. In this direction, Article 277 defines a chief as ‘

(A) person, who hailing from the appropriate family and lineage, has been validly nominated, elected or selected and enstooled, enskinned or installed as a chief or queen mother in accordance with the relevant customary law and usage. 

In furtherance of this, Article 270 (2) of the 1992 Constitution banned Parliament from trying to regulate the recognition of chiefs. By Article 270 (3), that power was given solely to the National House of Chiefs, the Regional Houses of Chiefs and the local Traditional Councils which are charged with judging chiefly succession and status dispute. The National House retained the power to operate a register of chiefs and in addition, granted the right to gazette chiefs by publishing their official recognition. Significantly, the whole of Article 270 is made an entrenched clause that could be amended by Parliament only after a time-consuming and difficult process including seeking the opinions of the Council of State and the National House of Chiefs as well as holding a national referendum (Ray 1999: 61).

On the other hand, Article 276 (1) provides: “A chief shall not take part in active party politics; and any chief wishing to do so and seeking elections shall abdicate his stool or skin”. But in Article 276 (2) “… a chief may be appointed to any public office for which he is otherwise qualified”. Indeed, the Constitution makes institutional representation of chiefs on some statutory bodies, among them the Council of State (Article 89), the Judicial Council (Article 153), the Prison Service Council (Article 206), Regional Coordinating Councils Article 255), the Lands Commission (national & regional) (Article 259).

At the local government level, the Constitution denied chiefs institutional representation at the District Assemblies and the sub-district structures, except when they are included in the more than 30% of the total membership appointed by the “President in consultation with traditional authorities and other interest groups in the district” (Article 242).

This dual exclusion of chiefs from active national politics and local government has aroused intense debate. At the national level, among the arguments for barring chiefs from active partisan politics are: to protect them from the taunts, insults, mockery partisanship could subject them to;  to prevent them from compromising their traditional status; for them to tower above the divisiveness and rancor of partisanship and lead their people on the path of development; to remain impartial and accessible to all manner of persons in their domain; and to preserve their role as symbols of national unity (Ansah-Koi 1998; Ayee 2006). Even most interestingly, their exclusion is said to prevent them from compromising the democratic process, if as candidates, their “citizens are constrained by their tradition allegiance to vote for their chiefs” (Hagan 2006: 671) 

But the cynics raise a number of questions: Why should we exclude any group of citizens from exercising its right to participation in politics? How can we exclude this crop of increasingly highly educated and experienced professionals from direct participation in government? How are chiefs expected to perform their role as agents of development if they cannot lobby for them from the politicians? How can chiefs resist the political pressures and arm-twisting tactics of politicians? (Ansah-Koi 1998; Gyapong 2006). Significantly, the chief protesters against the exclusion of chiefs, have been chiefs themselves, in particular Nana Akuoko-Sarpong, Paramount Chief of Agogo, who had himself been previously an MP and a minister. 

Similarly, the non-institutional representation of chiefs in the District Assemblies has been justified in the following respects:

That the clamour for institutional institution may be more out of personal rather the interest of their people.

That where a district covers more than one traditional area or in areas where the stool/skin is contested chiefs may come to the Assembly their litigation and disputes.

That even without institutional representation, chiefs as partners in local development can contribute their quota.

But the demand for their inclusion remains because, among other things: chiefs have a long history of involvement in local governance and that is a tradition worth keeping. In addition, the chieftaincy institution is capable of encouraging increased popular participation at the grassroots. Also, chiefs are hardly consulted by the politicians in the 30% government-appointment and on the needs of their communities. The absence of chiefs has strained relations between some chiefs and local government officials (Ayee 2006).

State-Chieftaincy Relations in Practice

How have chiefs fared under these constitutional “dos” and “don’ts” in the Fourth Republic? As regards the appointment of chiefs to “any public office for which (they are) otherwise qualified”, several chiefs have served high profile roles at the national level as members of boards of public institutions and in particular on the Council of State. Each of the seven Councils of State so far have included more chiefs than the single statutory representation of the President of the National House of Chiefs. Often, the chiefs have been nominees of the President, but others have contested and won as regional representations. Indeed some of chiefs have chaired the Council.

Chiefs have also taken their ex-officio positions on various statutory bodies such as the Council of State, the Judicial Council, the Prison Service Council, Regional Coordinating Councils and the Lands Commission (national & regional). In addition, the broad mandate given to the National and Regional Houses of Chiefs over all issues relating to chieftaincy, albeit advisory, has ensured that chiefs remain important cogs in national politics.

Chiefs have responded to their exclusion from active partisan politics in a variety of ways. First some have abdicated to contest elected positions. In 1992, ex-President Hilla Limann abdicate to contest the presidential election (Addae-Mensah 2016). Another example was the case of Nana Akosua Frimpomaa, the CPP presidential running mate in the 2012 presidential election (Frempong 2017).

Second, have lived within the remits of the constitutional injunction and have welcomed all politicians to their domain. Others have taken their fatherly role a notch higher by acting as peace mongers and played stabilizing role during elections. In an intriguing instance in November 2000, a number of prominent chiefs came together to convene a crisis meeting with political parties and the Electoral Commission which ended with the adoption of a 12-point resolution for violent-free and peaceful elections (Agyeman-Duah 2005: 22; Frempong 2008: 204).

Third, others have directed their energies to improving their lives of their people in the areas of education, health, the environment, etc. in this respect, the Otumfour Osei Tutu Educational Fund and Okyenhene Ofori Panin’s HIV-AIDS campaign, stand out.

Third, sometimes chiefs have adduced to their non-involvement in non-partisan politics, ironically, to play political ‘mischief’. A typical test case was in the run up to the 2000 presidential election when the Kwahu Traditional Council declined to hold a durbar to receive the incumbent Vice President Mills on grounds that he was the presidential candidate of a political party (NDC). But to all intent and purposes, that was a nuance declaration of the Council of its support for the then opposition party (NPP). Not surprisingly, the Okwahuhene was ‘rewarded’ by the Kufuor government with the chairmanship of the Board of the COCOBOD (Frempong 2001).

Others have adopted more subtle ways of influencing the outcome of both national and local elections. Political parties and candidates seek quietly to solicit the support of chiefs. Thus, such chiefs have secured for themselves the role of vote brokers for politicians (Gyampo 2009: 86; Hagan 2006: 671)

Fifth, others have glaringly observed the constitutional injunction in the breach by publicly declaring their support for specific parties and/or presidential candidates. While this has characterized every election in the Fourth Republic, a few instances in the run up to the 2016 presidential elections would suffice here:

Incumbent President Mahama received public declarations of support from chiefs of Dormaa, Sunyani, Bassa, Yeji & Odumase (all in Brong Ahafo), Kukurantumi & Akroso (both in Eastern), Ajumako Besease (Central) and the collective endorsement of the Northern and Upper East Regional Houses of Chiefs. In one instance, a chief has declared 70%-80% for the President in a constituency the NDC had never won at the presidential level in the Fourth Republic. A highly respected chief reportedly declared his willingness to turn into a serial caller and debate anybody who disagreed with assertion that Mahama was the best President Ghana has ever had. Another in Accra vowed to abdicate if Mahama was not re-elected (Myjoyfmonline.com, 19-10-16; Pulse.com. 25-10-16; CitiFMonline.com, 7-10-16; Today Online, 22-10-16).

On his part, the major opposition challenger Akufo-Addo was endorsed, among others by chiefs of Tuobodom (Brong Ahafo),Tumu (Upper West), Garu & Bawku (Upper East), Gonja (Northern), Dambai & Peki (Volta) and over 50 members of the Asanteman Trditional Council in defiance of the Asantehene’s  counsel (Ibid).

Like in previous elections, chiefs who backed the losing horse have had the unpleasant duty of making U-turns.

The agitations against the exclusion of chiefs from partisan politics was so intense in the early years of the Fourth Republic, to the extent that in his State of the Nation Address in January 1996, then-President Rawlings expressed his desire to remove that provision in the Constitution (Rawlings 12 January 1996; cited in Ray 2003: 248). However, their exclusion has been retained in the most recent Chieftaincy Act of 2008. Similarly, chiefs remain without institutional representation to the District Assemblies, they can only serve as advisors. 

Emerging Issues

Reshape and rearrange if possible, tie loose ends

Before the advent of colonial rule, the chief’s role encompassed numerous functions which revolved around the cardinal theme of guiding, protecting, defending and providing for the needs of the society he served. His leadership however was predicated on a set of well-articulated norms and mechanisms but in all this the welfare of the people was paramount. (ECA 2004: 32).

The colonial system largely transformed chieftaincy into its intermediate administrative institution. Chiefs who submitted to colonial rule were mostly incorporated into the colonial governance of indirect rule, which was designed to provide the colonial state with a viable low-cost administrative structure to maintain order, mobilize labour, enforce production of cash crops and collect taxes (ECA 2004: 7).

Decolonization represented another landmark in the transformation of the institution of chieftaincy. Nkrumah and his CPP government saw chiefs as functionaries of the colonial state and chieftaincy as an anachronistic vestige of the colonial era that had no place in the post-colonial landscape (ECA 2004: 8). Increasingly, the traditional rulers were affected by the politics of the CPP officials, who used a variety of judicial, legislative, administrative and electoral mechanisms to reduce or even eliminate their authority at the local level(Skinner 2001:152-154)

The fact still remained that while the CPP could not crush the institution of chieftaincy. It is true the institution was greatly modified and chiefs lost power in relation to the central government, but many chiefs cooperated with government, and others continued to perform their roles within the new constraints, even when they maintained an underlying hostility to the CPP. Also, many chiefs in the rural villages of little interest to the central government were able to govern their small communities (Skinner 2001:152-154).

Various governments since Nkrumah have adopted various methods in their dealings with chiefs. While generally retaining a measure of control over chiefs, governments have invariably sought to profit from the deep attachment of Ghanaians to chieftaincy (Baku 2006: 477). The NLC government, by destooling the pro-CPP chiefs and restoring the anti-CPP chiefs sought the support of the latter. However, it still retained the government’s recognition of chiefs, a relic from the Nkrumah era. The 1969 Constitution restored some of the dignity of the institution of chieftaincy, created the National House of Chiefs, restored the Regional Houses and gave chiefs representation on local, district and regional councils. However, the 1971 Chieftaincy Act passed by the Busia government, retained the recognition clause. The successor Acheampong regime initially tightened its control over chiefs, eventually, in the course of the union government campaign, bent over backwards to solicit the support of chiefs. The antipathy of Rawlings towards chiefs initially in the AFRC era and later the PNDC soon changed to cordial relations. Indeed he became a chief advocate for the recognition of queen mothers. Even the dual exclusion of chiefs from active partisan politics at the national level and non-representation in the District Assemblies has not prevented chiefs from playing roles at both levels.

In all these varying phases of Ghana’s political history, chiefs have acted as competitors, collaborators and uneasy bedfellows, all rolled together:

Chiefs moved from resisters at the onset of colonial rule to tacit collaborators through the indirect rule system. Towards the end they were also used to weapons divide the African front in their fight against the educated elite. 

The rationale for the attitude of Nkrumah and the CPP to chiefs was to prevent another parallel of power within the newly-independent state and when it had weakened the institution enough it resorted to collaboration. 

The NLC and Busia governments while they generally collaborated with chiefs remained cautious that chiefs were uneasy bedfellows and therefore retained a measure of control.

In  the Third Republic the constitutional provisions for non-interference of the state in chiefly matters were quickly overtaken by the 31st   December coup 

In the PNDC years, Rawlings initially saw chiefs as anti-revolutionary but later had reason to collaborate with them, while at the same time conscious of the threat to instability that chieftaincy could cause.

In the Fourth Republic, while the exclusion from national and local governance can be interpreted as a means of avoiding competition, it has not prevented governments from appointing chiefs to important positions and chiefs as collaborators with politicians in mobilizing voters.

Thus, government interference in chieftaincy is not new. All governments, colonial and post-colonial have resorted to covert or overt means to control chiefs while at the same time seeking to profit from the deep attachment that Ghanaians have to chieftaincy, the traditions, customs and the cultures associated with it (Baku 2006: 477). On their part, under the current constitutional dispensation and in spite of their exclusion from active partisan politics, chiefs have found a way not only to adjust to electoral democracy but to place themselves directly in-between politicians and voters as a necessary component to electoral success, through a flexibility on the part of chiefs to adopt new roles and the changing demands of politicians. They still provide a valuable service to politicians by serving as a channel between politicians and citizens (Bonoff 2016: 255-6).

Conclusion: The Takeaways

Reshape and rearrange if possible, tie loose ends

Chieftaincy remains Ghana’s most enduring socio-cultural institution, for in spite of slavery, colonial onslaught and misguided attempts by successive governments to emasculate it, the institution of chieftaincy has stayed vibrant and is still revered highly today by the people (Ofori Panyin 2010:1). Indeed, it is an interesting irony that the institute of chieftaincy have survived and witnessed several governments out of power, (the most radical Nkrumah’s and Rawlings’ inclusive). Chiefs have also remained spokespersons of rural dwellers and important stakeholders in state-building (Hagan 2006: 663).

Admittedly, the chief of today cannot act in the way his predecessors behaved in the pre-colonial era. But this does not mean that the chief has no meaningful role in the modern era. On the contrary, he has a vital role to play not just in his own domain, but also at the national level. The role that traditional authorities can play in the process of good governance can be broadly grouped into three: first, their advisory role to government as well as their participatory role in the administration of regions and districts; second, their developmental role, complementing the efforts in mobilizing the population for the implementation of development projects, sensitizing them on health issues, promoting education, encouraging economic enterprises, inspiring respect for the law and urging participation in the electoral process; and third, their role in conflict resolution, an area where they have demonstrated success,  when parties disenchanted with the dilatory procedures of the formal courts, have clamoured for traditional techniques of resolution (ECA 2004: iii, 33-34).

Far from seeing chieftaincy acting as a rival to state political power, it will be useful to accept the obvious fact that the two institutions, complement each other. Traditional authorities are natural and obvious partners in the development process and governance; indeed partners in progress. There is therefore the need to recognize and address this duality, on recognition that democratic states must be grounded in indigenous social values and context, while adapting to changing realities. This requires among other actions, aligning and harmonizing traditional governance institutions with the modern state. The question is not whether the traditional and the modern systems of governance are competing against each other but how to integrate the two systems more effectively in other to better serve citizens in terms of representation and  participation, service delivery, social and health standards and access to justice (ECA 2004: iii). The modern day chief has to synchronize his performance to changing tunes of modernity, globalization and similar forces of social change. Chiefs, necessarily have to dance in tune to those realities in unending bids to define space, role, status and relevance for themselves and their communities in the changing order of things (Ansah-Koi 2006: 509).  On the other hand the immense prestige of chiefs must be properly harnessed by central government as effective tools in decentralization and garnering support for local level development.

Chiefs if they play their fatherly role and stay above partisan politics can be a stabilizing and moderating influence during elections. Indeed, chiefs who stay non-partisan and welcome politicians from all sides of the political divide stand a better chance of playing their role as agents of development with which ever party comes to power. Those who become overtly partisan, while they may gain personally they may half of the time lose face when their favoured party is out of power.

In view of the fact that some chiefs would still want to want to bring their influence directly to bear on national politics a balancing act could be found if an independent second chamber be created and its membership including chiefs who would be elected by Regional House of Chiefs on a non-competitive and non-partisan electoral process to bring their influences and rich experiences to bear on policies before forwarding them for presidential assent. In this way, chiefs are given the opportunity to play their role in national politics without subjecting themselves to the taunts and mockery that are characteristics of electoral politics (Gyampo 2009: 86). The fact is that Ghanaian chiefs are now highly educated, greatly influential, highly valued, too expansive to be confined to their ethnic and rural domains, they have stepped on to the national stage and contribute to decision-making at the highest level (Hagan 2006: 663, 671).