North Africa A Prelude to Civil War?

By Jill Smolowe

On the day Algeria should have been holding the concluding round of parliamentary elections, proving that it could move peacefully from one-party socialist rule to a pluralist state, the country's military was putting the finishing touches on a bloodless coup d'etat. Last Thursday, just five days after the army forced the resignation of President Chadli Bendjedid, provoking the dissolution of parliament and cancellation of the elections that had promised to hand Muslim fundamentalists a legislative majority, Mohammed Boudiaf was sworn in as head of a military-backed, five-member Council of State. Boudiaf has splendid credentials -- he is nonpartisan and a hero of Algeria's war for independence from France -- but real power within the ruling council is likely to fall to the country's Defense Minister, Major General Khaled Nezzar.

And there's the rub. With no clear constitutional standing and with allegiance from few outside the military's high command, the council is trying to impose its authority on a restless nation that could erupt any day in civil strife. Short of martial law, it is unlikely the council will be able to provide the glue for an electorate fractured along political, religious and ethnic lines. The Islamic Salvation Front (F.I.S.) shows no inclination to cooperate with the authorities who stole the party's electoral victory. Last week the fundamentalists and leaders of the two other main political parties set aside their differences to try to design a strategy for restoring an elected parliament.

At the heart of the drama is the question of what is better for Algeria's democratic aspirations: a military intervention that claims to safeguard democratic ideals by robbing fundamentalists of electoral victory, or the full play of the electoral process, which risks empowering radical fundamentalists who might prove antagonistic to the give-and-take of democracy. After the F.I.S. swept the first round of voting on Dec. 26, the military was hardly alone in its fears that the fundamentalists might wield their legislative clout to impose an Islamic republic. Nearby African and Arab states breathed a sigh of relief after the military intrusion, which the Tunisian daily As-Sabah characterized as "a last-minute change of direction by a train heading toward the abyss."

For a Western world grown accustomed to drawing facile distinctions between villains and heroes as it witnessed one political convolution after another, Algeria's crisis posed a jarring dilemma: Which takes precedence -- democratic principles or geopolitical self-interest? The U.S. initially appeared to support the annulment of the election by contending that the generals, whose intervention had the support of a handful of civilian leaders, acted constitutionally when they appointed a council to fill the vacant presidency. In fact, the 1989 Algerian constitution makes no such provision. A day later, officials declared that Washington would not stake out a position in the constitutional debate. France, which ruled Algeria until 1962 and still maintains close cultural ties, also zigged and zagged until President Francois Mitterrand concluded that Algeria "must at the earliest possible opportunity go back to a democratic process."

Meanwhile Algeria's military men gambled on nostalgia. By bringing Boudiaf aboard, they hoped to create an aura of historical legitimacy. But Boudiaf, 72, is hardly a household name now. He has been absent from Algeria for the past 28 years, since he fled to Morocco after refusing to serve as the puppet President of an army-controlled government. With nearly 75% of Algeria's 26 million people under age 30, it is questionable whether young voters will grasp the symbolism.

In his first address to the nation, Boudiaf struck a menacing note. "We will permit no individuals or group to claim a monopoly on Islam and use it to threaten the country," he said. Those are certain to be heard as fighting words by the F.I.S. As yet, the party's acting leader, Abdelkader Hachani, has steered clear of incendiary rhetoric that might catapult Islamists into the street and give the authorities a pretext to ban the party. Last week, when riot police surrounded the mosque where Hachani was conducting Friday prayers, a traditional forum for political messages, he counseled, "Whatever happens, do not react."

Still, Hachani has declared that the 231 parliamentarians elected in December -- 188 of them fundamentalists -- constitute the country's sole legitimate governing body. He has threatened to take the government to court for violating the constitution, and to convoke an opposition parliament.

The least likely scenario is that Algeria's three main parties will sit idle and permit the Council of State to serve out the two remaining years of Bendjedid's aborted five-year term. There is also no guarantee that the army rank and file, more than half of whom are draftees, will support the military leadership. French Arabist Francois Burgat predicts that the army maneuver will be viewed as an attempt by a select group of officers to hold on to their privileges while Algeria sinks further into economic decay. "I would not be surprised to see factions of the army break away and begin fighting the officers who are now in power," he warns. Whatever the outcome, it is plain that the military has not imposed a solution -- it has merely postponed the day of reckoning with Algeria's Islamic forces.

With reporting by William Dowell/Cairo and Lara Marlowe/Algiers