Beyond old borders: Challenges to Franco-South
African security relations in the new millennium
Rocklyn Williams
Institute for Security Studies

INTRODUCTION

The visit of President Jacques Chirac to South Africa in July 1998 signalled attempts by the new French government and the South African government to redefine their long-standing and often troubled relationship. For France, this redefinition occurred within the context of a redefinition of its Africa policy — a redefinition that had been partially motivated by the impracticality of pursuing an insular policy of La francophonie into the new millennium, partially the product of recent French blunders on the continent (particularly in Rwanda but also, to a lesser extent, in the Central African Republic), and partially the result of strategic and normative shifts in the French foreign policy arena (a shift which sought to enhance and redefine La francafrique rather than to dismantle it).

For South Africa, the importance of establishing a renewed dialogue with France was motivated by a number of interrelated factors. The first was pre-eminently practical and reflected the reality that France was a major international power, an influential member of the United Nations, and a country with which South Africa would have to engage in the international arena. The second was the historical fact that France remained a country with substantial investments in South Africa and its confidence in both South Africa and the subregion therefore needed to be assured. The third was France’s role on the African continent. Notwithstanding possibly exaggerated allegations of a diminishing of French influence in Africa, France retained significant influence in its former colonies, was expanding its economic links into hitherto non-Francophone areas of influence, and was assertively marketing a series of new peacekeeping partnerships with Francophone, Lusophone and Anglophone countries alike.

FRANCE AND SOUTH AFRICA: A DIVERSITY OF HISTORICAL LINKS

France and South Africa have shared relations at an historical, economic, cultural and military level for more than three centuries. Innumerable examples in the annals of South African history bear testimony to the diversity and depth of this relationship. The French Huguenot diaspora at the end of the 17th century saw thousands of Huguenots settling in and adapting to African life in the Western Cape from 1688 onwards. With them they brought those names now so familiar to the South African lexicon — Le Roux, Marais, Pienaar and many more. Some analysts have described their influence, somewhat glowingly and perhaps parochially, as follows:

"Their arrival at the Cape was one of the fortunate moments in South African history. There were only about two hundred of them, but they have influenced South Africa out of all proportion to their numbers."1

Although they also brought a strong viticulture tradition to the Cape (much to the eternal gratitude of legions of South Africans), they also brought the much more serious beginnings of an intellectual legacy that was to influence the politics and strengthen the democratic traditions of the Colonies, the Boer Republics and the democratic political organisations of later centuries substantially. The impact of the French Revolution in 1789 on the development of politics was indeed wide-ranging. The Boer Republics of the Free State and the Transvaal modelled their Constitutions closely on that of both the French Constitution and the American Constitution. A wide spectrum of political organisations, ranging from anti-slave educationalists and liberals on the one hand, to African nationalists, socialists and communists on the other, all acknowledged the influence of the French revolutionary and republican tradition on their political theories and manifestos.2 Giving practical expression to their political sentiments, a number of French people actually fought in South Africa’s various wars of independence and resistance.

Individuals who have impressed themselves upon the South African military tradition have been numerous. The burghers who first arrived at the Cape also brought with them substantial military experience — an experience that was to influence the country’s future military history significantly.

The tradition of the South African commandos was strongly influenced by the presence of French burghers in the officer corps and among the rank-and-file of the early Cape militias (many of the Cape militias in the early 18th century were commanded by Huguenots). Cape Governor Maurits de Chavonnes was a Huguenot and his brother, Dominique Pasques de Chavonnes, was the first French person to hold the post of Commander of the Cape Garrison from 1686 to 1689 (a position his son assumed in 1714). Further involvement of the French included the role played by Pierre Andre de Suffren who, as commander of seven ships, prevented the British invasion of the Cape, as well as the many military fortifications and defence positions built by French engineers and military personnel in the Cape Town area (interestingly, the fortifications which President Kruger required to defend Pretoria were similar in concept to the Maginot Line that was constructed by a French company called Schneider and Co of Le Creusot in France before World War II).3

Admiral Pierre Andre de Suffren de Saint-Tropez, a naval commander who fought with Admiral d’Estaing’s fleet in the American War of Independence in 1778, fought with the Dutch in defence of the Cape in 1781 and landed French troops at Simon’s Bay on 21 June 1781. A number of French volunteers fought with the Boers in the Second Anglo-Boer War between 1899 — 1902. Major C de Meillon fought with General Louis Botha and was subsequently exiled to Madagascar with Boer resisters after the termination of the Boer War. After his release and return from exile, he joined the South African forces in the occupation of German West Africa at the outbreak of World War I, was appointed Chief of Intelligence, and was finally killed in an ambush in 1915.4

Other French volunteers were also involved in Boer War battles — Colonel Marquis de Kersauson fought in a number of Boer War battles, was a constant companion of the illustrious General Manie Maritz who fought with General de Wet and was also exiled to Madagascar. George de Gourville was wounded while fighting with Deneys Reitz’s forces during the Magaliesberg Campaign in 1900.5

But perhaps most significant and best remembered among sectors of the South African population was the role played by the ‘French Colonel’ — Combat General (veggeneraal) Graaf Georges Henri Victor de Villebois Mareuil (affectionately known as the ‘wild Boer’) — in the Second Anglo-Boer War. With impressive military experience, De Villebois Mareuil served extensively in the French colonial forces in both Indo-China and Tunisia. In 1892, he became France’s youngest colonel and, notwithstanding his recent retirement, opted to fight with the Boers against the British in the impending Boer War. In 1899, he was appointed as military advisor to the Commandant General of the Transvaal. His diary at the time records the commonality of vision between his own republican ideals and those of the Boers:

"The Boers are above all free men, conscious of their rights, fearless against authority in defence of those rights, but respectful when the interest of the fatherland is at stake, and on every occasion ready to die for their independence."6

Although highly critical of the seeming indecision of the Boer General Staff in battle (most notably at Ladysmith, Colenso and Kimberley where he fought), he proposed to the Boer Command Council at General Cronje’s camp at Modder River in January 1900 that French forces should be used to seize Kimberley — a sentiment further strengthened by the arrival of a French volunteer detachment at Kimberley with a ‘Long Tom’ artillery cannon. In February 1900, after discussions with President Steyn of the Orange Free State Boer Republic, he received permission to establish a unit of French volunteers to fight alongside the Boers. For this he received the singular distinction of being the only foreigner who was ever promoted to the rank of Combat General by Presidents Steyn and Kruger during the Boer War.

General de Villebois Mareuil proceeded to form an international legion of foreign volunteers for the Boer War, consisting largely of French, Dutch and English volunteers. In March 1900, General de Villebois Mareuil’s commando was defeated in combat by a superior force commanded by General Methuen at Tweefontein near Kimberley. Buried with full military honours by Lord Methuen, his name has been remembered in many street names in both Paris and Nantes (his birthplace).

South Africans, for their part, saw extensive service in France during World War I. An event mostly forgotten until recently, was the sinking of the South African troop transport ship, the SS Mendi en route to Le Havre from England on 21 February 1917. The troops aboard the SS Mendi were part of the South African Native Labour Corps (SANLC) — African military personnel who, true to South African segregationist policy, were not allowed to bear arms in the war, but whose services were utilised as stretcher bearers and labourers on the Western Front. Of the 891 men on board the vessel, some 646 (most of them members of the 5th Battalion of the SANLC) died in the disaster. In total, 25 000 black and coloured South Africans were part of the Allied war effort in World War I in France, approximately a quarter of the military labour force that also included English, French, Canadian, Chinese and Japanese workers. A total of 938 members of the SANLC died in France of whom 264 are buried in the British war cemetery at Arques-la-Bataille. The principal memorial to their role in the Allied war effort is at Delville Wood in the Somme region.

South Africans fought and died in their thousands in France during World War I. The 1st South African Infantry Brigade, formed in 1915, fought initially in the deserts of North Africa and was deployed to the Western Front in 1916 where it was involved in the Somme battles and the various battles in Flanders. The largest and most traumatic battle by South African forces was undoubtedly Delville Wood where some 2 536 South Africans died in a bloody battle against German forces — of a total of 3 100 who entered the fray.7

A more recent example of the progressive tradition in Franco-South African relations, although not necessarily military, was the influence of French philosophical and political thought over certain sectors of the South African population. Existentialism, of both the French and European variety, substantially influenced sectors of Afrikaner intelligentsia from the late 1940s onwards — an influence that manifested itself in a budding Afrikaans literature (the Sestiger movement) and in the world-views of many of the leading Afrikaner opponents of apartheid (Andre P Brink, Jan Rabie, Chris Barnard, Breyten Breytenbach, Johan Degenaar and others). The Francophone link proved valuable in 1987 when it was used, via the offices of Française humanitaire led by Danielle Mitterand, to facilitate the first groundbreaking meeting between Afrikaners and the African National Congress (ANC) in Dakar, Senegal.

Notwithstanding the historical links between France and South Africa, there were more problematic aspects involved in the Franco-South African relationship that emerged during the post-1961 period. The Sharpeville massacre, South Africa’s departure from the Commonwealth in the same year, the banning of the ANC and the Pan Africanist Congress (PAC), and the declaration of the republic in 1961 saw the first tentative moves towards the isolation of South Africa. In 1963, the UN imposed an arms embargo in protest against the Sharpeville massacre. The embargo was voluntary and non-binding on member states, although this did not prevent the French and the Italians from stepping into the void left by Britain’s partial compliance with the embargo.

Throughout the 1960s and 1970s, the French either supplied to or jointly developed (the latter on the basis of licensing agreements with French companies) with the South African government, with fighter aircraft (Mirage F1 and Mirage III), transport aircraft (Transall C160), helicopters (Allouette, Puma and Super Frelon), reconnaissance vehicles (Panhard AML-90), mortars and mortar ammunition (60mm and 81mm), rocket launchers (68mm SARPAC RL), artillery and ammunition (90mm anti-tank guns), tactical radios, submarines (Daphne class) and ground-to-air missiles (Cactus/Crotale). Indeed, between 1960 and 1983, French companies were the largest suppliers of military equipment to the South African government — leading the Swedish International Peace Research Institute to estimate that, during the 1960s, some 44 per cent of South African arms imports came from France. During the 1970s, this increased to more than fifty per cent of the total, and during the 1980s (the period of the regime’s dramatic isolation), these imports hovered in the region of thirty per cent of South Africa’s total acquisitions.8

Collaboration also extended to the nuclear field — from the 1970s onwards, this arena became increasingly militarised. In 1976, the South African Electricity Supply Commission (ESCOM) signed a contract with a French company (Frainatome) to build a nuclear power station near Cape Town. When the United States refused to supply the enriched uranium for the plant (a result of South Africa’s refusal to sign the Non-Proliferation Treaty), two American companies proceeded to secure the enriched uranium for the reactor from France in 1981.

THE VARIETY OF METAPHYSICS, WORLD-VIEWS AND IDEOLOGICAL CONTOURS OF FRENCH AND SOUTH AFRICAN FOREIGN POLICY

The Francophone World-View and its key postulates

Numerous myths and stereotypes about each another are maintained by both the French and South Africans. Apart from the obvious social caricatures — the French as passionate, arrogant, lovers of good wine and food and the South Africans as slightly rough, uncultured but nevertheless forthright people — a range of key political stereotypes continue to pervade both French and South African political thinking. South Africa is seen by many French government officials as an Anglo-Saxon country (in language, political culture and disposition) that is entwined in the Anglo-Saxon (read UK and US) sphere of influence and conspiracy. For many South African government officials, France remains a difficult country to fathom, culturally obtuse, arrogant in its universal civilising mission and mercenary in the promotion of its own national interests. Although there is an element of truth in the perceptions of both countries, the reality lies somewhere between these two extremes. To unpack these different perceptions requires an informed reading of the cultural, political and historical myths and nuances of each respective country.

The irony of many of the key pillars of French government thinking — the myths of a glorious and united Gallic past, of an Anglo-Saxon conspiracy against the French, and of France’s civilising mission in the world — is to be found in the very real and traumatic experiences which France has endured over the past hundred years (and, arguably, has endured for many centuries if one considers the effects of the Hundred Years’ War). To decode the contours of this process of myth construction and France’s world-view, it is important that it should not be:

"... learned in journals or in policy statements, but [sought] in schoolbooks, popular histories, the media, incidental statements by politicians, inscriptions on monuments and a dozen other places were the French are talking to themselves, often in shorthand with the nuances left out. In France, there does seem to be a tendency for the meta-strategy to be more organised and coherent than in most other countries. There are two principal reasons for this. One is the amount of conscious organisation by government such was the disunity of the nation that it was felt that only a single truth, unencumbered by shades of meaning, was permissible partly, also, there is the cultural and philosophical heritage. There is reason to doubt how far the French really have been influenced by the detail of Descartes’ work but the idea that absolute truth can be deduced from theoretical postulates, whereas empirical evidence is a dangerous and unreliable guide, has left its footprints everywhere in modern French culture, not least in bureaucracy and administration."11

It is therefore often surprising to non-French (and particularly Anglo-Saxon) observers that the French actually do believe many of the myths they have created and inherited. Indeed, they are not alone in doing so. Any nation, particularly more heterogeneous nations, and any corporate entity admitting to a rational and cohesive world-view, is likely to have its myths. It can be argued that an invariable feature of any ideology is the extent to which its members believe in its postulates and the extent to which they do not doubt its key assumptions (the latter providing the very raison d’être for the development of radical political and philosophical critiques of ideology). What is interesting, and certainly needs to be considered by any nation dealing with the French, is the nature of these concepts and assumptions that the French have about themselves and, for South Africans, the extent to which these beliefs impact upon French involvement in Africa. Three key concepts which constitute central components of this world-view are analysed below — France’s belief in its civilising mission in the world, the Cartesian nature of much of its political practise, and its lingering belief in an ongoing Anglo-Saxon conspiracy against French interests.

France’s belief in its civilising mission towards the world can be traced largely to the events of the French Revolution and the richness of the philosophical and political theories upon which it was based (although it can also be traced to philosophical precedents that are rooted in the Middle Ages). The ideals of the French Revolution, although not shared by all sectors of French society (and certainly opposed by Monarchists, Catholics and the right-wing in French political society), have penetrated most of French political discourse across the political spectrum throughout the 20th century (with the obvious exception of the Vichy period). It is therefore not surprising to see elements of this privileged status of the French nation littered throughout the nation’s philosophical and political history.

"France was destined to be the ‘pilot of humanity’s boat’ conducting the modern world ‘on the mysterious road to the future’. Its vocation was to ‘set the world free’ and to ‘deliver’ (enfanter) each nation to liberty. This special status of France was qualified only by history. Michelet was prepared to admit that ancient Greece was in some sense a precursor, and a comparison could be made between the Revolution and the first appearance of Christianity, but ‘the religion of man revealed by the Revolution is to modem times what the Christian religion was to antiquity’."12

During the 20th century, this tradition has persisted as evident in the utterances of French leaders over the past eight decades:

"France, once the soldier of God, today the soldier of Humanity will always be the soldier of the Ideal" (George Clemenceau, announcing the Armistice to the French Parliament, 1919).

"Jesus Christ is Emperor of France" (14th century coin).

"For every thinking patriot, the essential problem ... is the maintenance of the unity of France and the restoration of her grandeur" (French Communist Party, 1944)

The importance of this belief for an understanding of French involvement in Africa is fourfold. Regardless of the actual mechanics and outcomes of French involvement in Africa (and elsewhere), there is a strong inclination towards myth-making in French foreign policy that intersects and reinforces their tendency to define the world in broader, Cartesian and peculiarly French normative sweeps, than would be the case with the more pragmatic Anglo-Saxon approaches of the British and the North Americans. Some examples can be used to confirm this observation. Notwithstanding allegations of French formal and informal complicity in the Rwandan genocide, a process of myth construction is currently under way within the French armed forces (and indeed within sectors of political society). It maintains that their involvement in Rwanda was disinterested, motivated by higher ideals (a desire to prevent a genocide), and a case of altruistic involvement in which France was prepared to act decisively (and alone) while the rest of the international community remained, at best, inactive and, at worst, cynical.

Another example is the role that language plays in both the conceptualisation and implementation of French foreign policy. Despite French economic interests in Africa (real and extensive as they are), their presence, to a certain extent, is determined by the values and beliefs that underpin this peculiar world-view. The linguistic element in French foreign policy cannot be underestimated — La francophonie as the guarantor of a French cultural and linguistic presence in Africa, for example. Some commentators have even traced this linguistic obsession back to what is referred to as the ‘Fashoda Syndrome’. The syndrome gets its name from a South Sudanese village where the British Governor demanded the removal of the French flag when the British Cape-to-Cairo axis intersected the French Dakar-to-Djibouti line — a humiliation that, allegedly, has continued to colour French attitudes towards Anglophone involvement in Africa.13

The second factor — related to the first — concerns the Francophone penchant for a metaphysical and Cartesian world-view that encapsulates their values and visions. This type of world-view permeates much of French defence thinking. A perusal of French defence documentation reveals a series of meta-strategies that are conceptually and doctrinally coherent accounts of the direction in which France believes its defence relations are heading. At a formal level at least (for it is often the informal dynamics that dictate the real content of all strategies), this provides countries that desire to forge relationships with France with a clear indication of what to expect from their French counterparts. It is logical, therefore, that the French may also expect a similar conceptualisation of defence thinking from their negotiating partners. South Africa’s vision of the African Renaissance provides one such world-view, but it is a vision that will have to be considerably clarified if it is to provide the basis for participation between South Africa and other potential partners on the continent.

The South African World-View and its key postulates

South Africa does not possess an integrated and coherent world-view in the sense that it can be witnessed in France. This is a somewhat self-evident observation and comes mainly from the country’s divided historical and political past. It is for this reason alone that it is erroneous for French analysts, and indeed other political observers, to paint South Africa as an Anglo-Saxon or Anglophone country.

South Africa possesses many features that are undoubtedly Anglo-Saxon in origin — a Westminster-styled parliament, a British-styled public school system, a small but economically significant ethnic group of English-speaking South Africans, and a country where English is increasingly becoming the lingua franca of both political and commercial life. Its world-view, however, admits to a plurality or influences and voices and is only very generally encapsulated in the key principles of its national government policy (a sound basis upon which to predict and anticipate the actions of government) and its emerging national consensus — a consensus which is reflected in the rather sentimental, but still accurate vision of the ‘rainbow nation’ as articulated in 1994. It is this vision that recognises that, notwithstanding the plurality inherent in South African society, a common constitutional patriotism exists that binds all South Africans together.

South Africa’s foreign and domestic policy admits to a plurality of influences. Its foreign policy reflects a strong Nordic orientation with an emphasis on the observance of human rights, the inculcation of a culture of democracy and good governance, respect for cultural and political plurality, and a commitment to growth, development and progress. Interpolated into this foreign policy is a strong sense of South Africa’s place in Africa as reflected in the vision of the African Renaissance, as well as the common humanity pervading all Africans themselves as explicated in the theories of ‘ubuntu’.

South Africa’s domestic policy is strongly influenced by an increasingly unique vision of participatory democracy and negotiation (as successfully practised during the 1990-1994 negotiating period and, since 1994, in government itself); by an emerging tension between its economic policy which appears strongly influenced by neo-liberal theories of economics and a national developmental strategy (the Reconstruction and Development Programme) that is influenced by socialist and development theories of growth; and a national security policy that is increasingly predicated on the various tenets of ‘new security thinking’ (the influence of Barry Buzan is evident in this arena).

THE SHIFTING SANDS OF FRENCH FOREIGN POLICY: ILLUSION OR REALITY?

Much has been made of recent shifts in French foreign policy towards Africa and the implications for its security ties with the different countries on the continent. Some pundits have suggested that France is pursuing a subtle strategy of disengagement on the continent, while others maintain that its policy remains ‘business as usual’, although this is cloaked in new phrases and rhetoric. The reality, it seems, is midway between the two and has as much to do with changing French political realities, France’s recent experiences in Africa, and European economic realities.

France’s history in Africa: the basis for engagement

France has been a colonial power in Africa since the 19th century. Notwithstanding its fluctuating fortunes as a European power during both World Wars, France managed to retain its colonies and the international influence and prestige which accompanied their possession. Unlike Portugal whose eventual withdrawal from its colonies was a protracted, bloody and acrimonious process, De Gaulle effected France’s withdrawal in a subtle and shrewd manner (a process necessitated by France’s humiliation in both Indo-China and Algeria during the late 1950s and the early 1960s). Continued French influence over the colonies was ensured. While de jure power was conceded to now nominally independent former French colonies, de facto power (political, economic and military) remained firmly in French hands.

De Gaulle’s declaration of the Fifth Republic — a movement away from a weak state and politically fragmented legislature towards a strong centralised government — provided Francophone states with a model upon which their post-colonial administrations could be structured. Strong presidents, strong presidencies, the undisputed authority of the executive in all matters of national government and well-armed and funded armed forces were hallmarks of this culture. France reinforced this culture through the signing of eight Accords de défense (protection of African countries against external aggression — many of which were written into the constitutions of the newly independent countries), 23 Accords de coopération providing assistance in the military-technical sphere (arms procurement, training and logistical support), and a number of Accords de maintien de l’ordre of which the contents remained secret.14

Underpinning France’s preparedness to support these agreements was the occasions upon which France intervened militarily in support of its former colonies. These interventions differed according to the nature of the crisis at hand and the extent of French interests in the affected area — ‘law and order’ missions in the Cameroon and Gabon during the early 1960s, military interventions in both Zaire and Chad during the 1960s, 1970s and 1980s, and the restoration of law and order in the Comoros and the Central African Republic between 1995 and 1997.

French African policy during the pre-1994 period exhibited three distinguishing characteristics. The first was the manner in which it was managed. The management of De Gaulle’s policy of La francafrique (both during his reign and after) was the responsibility of four major roleplayers — the Presidency (advised by the Cellule Afrique which was, in effect, the de facto power behind the throne), the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, the Ministry of Defence and the Ministry of Co-operation. In effect, the President possessed the power to deploy troops with or without inputs from the other government departments — a prerogative that was used by successive French presidents regardless of changes in government.

The second was the absence of public and parliamentary scrutiny that existed over France’s Africa policy in general. Although important to its conduct of its foreign policy, the country’s Africa policy did not occupy a position of importance in the conduct of its domestic politics. Little parliamentary scrutiny existed over La francafrique and little public interest was expressed in its machinations until the Rwandan debacle. The third was the high levels of trust and confidence that existed between the leaders of the French armed forces and various Francophone presidents. This often led the armed forces to make decisions in these countries that were not necessarily vetted by other government departments — a phenomenon aided by the cabinet system that operates within the French civil service. Apart from angering more left-leaning Presidents such as François Mitterand, these links also became the focus of much anti-French resistance within the Francophone countries themselves.

The net effect of these links was to ensure continued French influence over areas of Africa that were often well placed financially (particularly in terms of their mineral wealth), were believed to possess some geo-strategic importance (Zaire and Rwanda for example), and were supportive of France in those forums in which both France and the African Francophone countries were represented (as confirmed by the tendency of these countries to vote en masse with France in forums such as the UN). This delicate homogeneity was to be shattered in 1994.

Rwanda and Economics : New shifts in France’s Africa strategy

A number of factors coalesced to signal a fundamental shift in France’s Africa strategy. The initial ‘form behind which this necessity lurked’ was in many respects Rwanda, but it also had as much to do with changing economic and political realities internationally. Although many of the details of the Rwandan genocide still have to emerge, and while the extent of France’s formal and informal involvement in Rwanda is still unclear, factual details indicate a close relationship between the French government and the Habyarimana government.

The decision by the Rwandan Patriotic Front (RPF) to deploy its forces from southern Uganda into northern Rwanda in 1990 also witnessed an increase in French military support to the Rwandan government. Although Rwanda had little economic value to France, it is believed that its position on the fault line between Anglophone Africa in the east and Francophone Africa in the west, bestowed it with a particular strategic significance. Indeed, when asked what motivated France to intervene in the Rwandan situation, many senior Rwandan government officials and military officers claimed that it was, to a large extent, to maintain Francophone cultural and linguistic influence in what was perceived as a hostile Anglophone region (notwithstanding the fact that Rwanda was only nominally French with barely ten per cent of the population speaking French at all).15

The RPF as a military organisation was the epitome of many Francophone stereotypes. It was an English-speaking organisation due to the fact that most of its members had been raised in Uganda since the early 1960s, it was strongly anti-Francophone in sentiment (a product of the extensive support that both France and Belgium had given to successive governments within the country — a one-sided support of which the Tutsi minority had been, in many senses, a victim), it was a highly educated army and many of its members had been through an extensive and varied military training (some had gone from being officers in Obote’s army, to guerrilla commanders in the National Revolutionary Army, to conventional commanders in Museveni’s army, to guerrilla commanders in the RPF and, after the ousting of the Hutu government in 1994, to conventional commanders in the new Rwandan Patriotic Army).

French support for the Habyarimana government escalated in the months following the initial RPF victories in the north of Rwanda. The French increased their military strength in Rwanda and were alleged to have provided increased arms supplies to the government. French military training to the Forces Armée Rwanda (FAR) witnessed an increase in its force levels from 5 000 in 1990 to 50 000 in 1992, and a variety of French military instructors were provided to the FAR (paratroopers, gunners, logistical personnel, air ground crew, communications experts and pilots). Current Rwandan Patriotic Army (RPA) officers maintain that French military support extended right into the battlefield itself allowing them to boost RPF morale by stating that they must fight the ‘real enemy’ (the French), as well as the FAR. Furthermore, there was a belief, unsubstantiated as yet, that the French permitted some of the worst genocides to occur within the area cordoned off during Operation Turquoise (that the genocides did occur in this region is beyond doubt, but France’s role in these genocides is, as yet, unclear).

France’s involvement precipitated an international outcry — notwithstanding its claims to have intervened with benign intentions during Operation Turquoise. The UN report on the operation stated that the motives for the operation were ambiguous, international non-governmental organisations (NGOs) and the RPF maintained that the operation was merely a foil to allow the FAR and its militias to retreat and presumably regroup in either south-western Rwanda or, as it turned out, in eastern Zaire itself. Whatever France’s real motives for intervening in Rwanda, the consequences of its military presence alienated not only the Rwandans but also many Africans in the region. The fall of Mobutu Sese Seko and the reduction of yet another sphere of French influence effectively changed the face of France’s involvement in Africa — exacerbated by the role that ‘Anglo-Saxons’ played in the resolution of the conflict in these areas (British, American, South African and other African Commonwealth negotiating teams, for instance) and the extent to which non-Francophone actors began moving into these spheres of influence after the fall of the FAR and Mobutu’s regime.

The domestic response in France to the Rwandan intervention was equally significant. For the first time in the history of France’s involvement in Africa, a parliamentary commission was appointed to investigate the nature and extent of French involvement in Rwanda. Although the commission only has powers of recommendation, its appointment is nevertheless symbolic of the gradual disillusionment with the policy of La Francophonie which has pervaded both political and public quarters in France. Although Chirac has publicly committed himself to a strong Gaullist position vis-à-vis Africa since 1994, his Prime Minister, more pragmatic in orientation, has committed himself to the linking of aid to African countries to measurable democratisation in these countries. The death of Jacques Foccart in 1997, De Gaulle’s long-time African advisor, removed an advocate of classic Gaullist engagement in Africa from the centre stage of Francophone African policy.16

Sheer European economic realities have also signalled a potential change in the economic relations between France and its former colonies. The formation of a single European currency (the ECU), of which France will become a part, could affect the hitherto privileged status of the CFA franc — the latter being fully convertible to French francs at the rate of CFA100 to FF1. President Chirac stated that the CFA’s parity to the French francs will be automatically transferred to the Euro, given the fact that this was a bilateral agreement between France and the thirteen Franc Zone countries. The Germans, however, have argued that this approach undermines Article 109 of the Maastricht Treaty by taking a unilateral position that binds all other European partners. Describing this measure as a ‘scam’, Thierry Mathisse, financial advisor to the European Commission in Abidjan, described the French proposal:

"The balance of payments for CFA countries is summed up as a single account. France jumps in only when the budget surpluses of richer countries like Côte d’lvoire and Gabon do not make up for the deficits created by poorer countries like Mali and Chad."17

Notwithstanding France’s assurances to its African partners, the psychological effect on Francophone leaders of creating the ECU has been significant. Gabon’s President Omar Bongo stated that the introduction of the ECU was the "moment of truth" for Francophone African countries, while Koffi Panon, the Togolese Foreign Minister, maintains that speculation among African countries about the future of the CFA has set off "a wind of injurious panic in African economies." Changing economic realities have clearly introduced new conditions into the Franco-African relationship that may well herald a shift in the formerly privileged position of the Francophone countries vis-à-vis France.

FRANCO-SOUTH AFRICAN DEFENCE RELATIONS: ROOM FOR PARTNERSHIP IN FUTURE?

Much has been made of France’s alleged military withdrawal from Africa. Commentators have ventured to suggest that the downscaling of French military presence in Africa constitutes a prelude to its eventual disengagement. In reality, it would be more appropriate to speak about a rationalisation of French military presence in Africa — a rationalisation that has as much to do with changing economic realities as it does with a shift in political focus on the continent.

Although France continues to maintain its 23 military agreements on the continent, post-Cold War realities have impelled it to reconsider the scope and nature of its military commitments internationally. The abolition of conscription in France (following trends in other European countries) has also deprived it of the quantity and often quality of manpower that it could field in its various African spheres of influence. However, regardless of this rationalisation of military presence in Africa, France continues to honour its traditional military commitments to Africa and earmarks some US $120 million towards this end.

Acknowledging the changing nature of conflict resolution, the role of peace support operations in dealing with regional and international conflicts, and the increasingly multilateral nature of international interventions, France also finds itself inclining more in the direction of new forms of military involvement on the continent. This means, in essence, an expansion of its involvement in the peacekeeping arena. Its participation in the so-called P3 initiative (the co-ordination of the activities of France, the UK and the US in the field of peacekeeping assistance in Africa) has seen its commitment to the development of peacekeeping capabilities on the African continent. This initiative rests on four interrelated principles — the necessity of co-ordinating donor support for the development of African peacekeeping capabilities, ensuring that a high level of legitimacy accrues to African peacekeeping operations, ensuring a high level of transparency with regard to the provision of international aid to the development of African peacekeeping capabilities, and the inclusion of all African countries in the development of such expertise.

France’s commitment to the development of peacekeeping capabilities has been wide-ranging and substantive in the past few years. RECAMP (Renforcement des capacités africaines de maintien de la paix), its programme in Africa, has engaged in a number of concrete initiatives aimed at improving the capacity of Francophone, Anglophone and Lusophone countries in enhancing their peacekeeping capabilities since 1997. These initiatives have included the following:

• the intended creation of a Peacekeeping Training Centre in Côte d’lvoire for utilisation by all countries in the region and available, depending on capacity, to non-West African countries as well;

• the successful completion of Guidimakha, a Francophone peacekeeping exercise in West Africa (at which Anglophone and Lusophone military observers were present and British and American military personnel participated) in February 1998;

• the provision of US $30 million (representing some twenty per cent of France’s military financial commitments to Africa) to RECAMP;

• offers of assistance to SADC’s Exercise Blue Crane (traditionally perceived to be an Anglophone sphere of influence) in the form of strategic airlift, provision of a naval vessel for a simulated blockade, and the provision of peacekeeping instructors to assist in the training of SADC personnel for the exercise; and

CONCLUSION INTO THE NEW MILLENNIUM: Franco-South African security relations

It is evident that both France and South Africa are unlikely to enjoy the scope of defence relations that they enjoyed in the field of armaments procurement between the 1960s and the 1980s. Both the French and the South African defence industries have (like their international counterparts) undergone a drastic decline in the past decade and it is unlikely that their respective fortunes will be substantially replenished in future. Notwithstanding France’s tendering for the South African modernisation programme (a programme ranging from R12 billion to R30 billion), Franco-South African relations are likely to be strengthened in other areas, mainly non-equipment and primarily defence-strategic areas. Five factors, however, will underpin the scope and nature of this relationship:

• Although France is a major roleplayer in Africa, South Africa is not dependent upon France’s largesse in extending its influence on the continent. Regardless of the inevitable suspicions and intrigues that pervade African politics, South Africa’s profile as a regional superpower and the economic powerhouse of Africa amply equips it with the ability to forge relationships with virtually all African countries alike. In a real sense, France needs South Africa more than South Africa needs France when it concerns the consolidation and extension of Francophone influence in Africa (a phenomenon attested to by the praise which President Chirac heaped on President Mandela when visiting South Africa in 1998).

• South Africa is currently facing real budgetary constraints and is likely to continue to do so, especially in the defence arena, in the future. This limits the extent to which South Africa can pursue both bilateral and multilateral defence initiatives with France and other non-African countries. French defence officials have privately expressed regret at South Africa’s failure to participate in France’s 1998 military manoeuvre in Réunion and the country’s apparent lack of interest in combined exercises and training programmes.

• The ‘growth area’ in terms of Franco-South African defence relations is likely to be in the arena of peacekeeping — particularly in the sphere of the development of subregional and regional capability. This point is developed in more detail below.

To ensure that co-operation between France and South Africa takes place in a manner that is consistent with their respective profiles on the continent, and to ensure that such co-operation is resource effective, the following could be considered:

• Joint initiatives aimed at enhancing regional and subregional defence capabilities (whether in the arena of peacekeeping or the development of regional security arrangements) should be supportive of South Africa’s vision of an African Renaissance and should be seen as supplementary to and supportive of longer term endeavours aimed at addressing the root causes of conflict in Africa (for example, poverty, unemployment, lack of democracy, poor observance of human rights and poor governance). This is more than mere rhetoric (the lip-service that is often paid to ‘new security thinking’ in South African policy pronouncements for instance) and will require a genuine acknowledgment of the role that political and diplomatic solutions play in the resolution of subregional and regional conflicts (the role which the South African Department of Foreign Affairs has played in attempting to resolve the Great Lakes crisis, for example). It will also involve close co-ordination between French and South African diplomatic and military quarters in those arenas where both countries possess influence (Central Africa being a prime example in this regard).

• French offers of defence assistance in the multilateral sphere of peacekeeping capacity-building should be ‘gridded’ into and co-ordinated with offers from other non-Francophone countries in order to avoid potential division and allegations of political manipulation. The P3 initiative constitutes an important step in this regard.

Endnotes

This article is jointly published by the Institute for Security Studies (ISS) and the Institut de rélations internationales et stratégiques (IRIS), Paris, following a joint South African/ French dialogue in Paris, 25-26 May 1998.

3 G Nonin, The influence of French on Afrikaans military terms, Militaria, 18(3), 1988.

5 D Reitz, Commando: A Boer journal of the Boer War, Johnathan Ball Publishers, Johannesburg, 1990.

6 J Ploeger, ‘Die Franse Kolonel’ — Veggeneraal Graaf Georges Henri Anne Marie Victor de Villebois Mareuil, Militaria, 18(4), 1988.

7 ICPeter & A Digby, Pyramids and poppies, Ashanti, Rivonia, 1993.

8 G Cawthra, Brutal force, IDAF, London, 1986.

9 SLle Grange, Die geskiedenis van die Hoof van Staf Inligting, Militaria, 12(2), 1982.

10 Serving and former Chief of Staff Intelligence (SADF) officers, Personal discussions, 1990-1998.

11 D Chuter, Humanity’s soldier, Berghahn Books, Oxford, 1996, pp. 6-7.

12 Ibid., p. 22.

13 M McNulty, France’s Rwanda debacle, War Studies Journal, 2(2) Spring 1997, p. 21.

14 T O’Connor, France in Africa, in South African Yearbook of International Affairs 1997, South African Institute of International Affairs, Johannesburg, 1997, p. 347.

15 Senior officers, Private discussions, Rwandan Patriotic Army, Kigali, October 1997.

16 O’Connor, op. cit., p. 348.

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