Lesotho’s constitutional crisis
The opposition parties in this southern African mountain kingdom have few policy differences
Saturday August 30th 2014 began as a regular lazy weekend morning in Maseru, the picturesque capital of Lesotho. It ended with the prime minister in exile, a policeman shot dead in his barracks, and the army patrolling the streets.
Suddenly, Lesotho was facing its most serious constitutional crisis since the South African invasion of 1998— and most observers were taken completely by surprise.
They should not have been. Like most political dramas, this one had been building for quite some time.
The chain of cause and effect could take us back decades through Lesotho’s independence, the establishment of the monarchy, and its colonial experience. A more useful starting point to explain the current impasse, however, comes in 2012, with Pakalitha Mosisili firmly ensconced as prime minister, a position he had held for 14 years.
It is never easy to maintain such political longevity, and Mr Mosisili had accumulated more than his fair share of enemies. Most dangerous, however, were those gathering like sharks within the ranks of his own ruling party, the Lesotho Congress for Democracy (LCD). Mothetjoa Metsing, the former communications minister, led this internal opposition. It eventually became so vociferous that the relationship between the prime minister and the party’s national executive committee broke down completely.
Mr Mosisili, apparently full of regret, was forced to resign from the party and formed a new party, the Democratic Congress (DC). “I couldn’t believe that I was the one leaving the LCD,” he said in the press conference called in February 2012to announce the decision. “As I am sitting here today announcing that I have left the LCD and I am now a leader of the Democratic Congress, my heart is still crying for the strong bond of love I had cultivated for that party over the years.”
Mr Mosisili stayed on as prime minister, with many LCD members of Parliament (MPs) joining him in crossing the floor to the newly-formed DC party—enough to form a majority in parliament.
So far, so good for Mr Mosisili, who had outwitted his squabbling lieutenants in the LCD. But with an election just around the corner, those lieutenants were plotting their revenge.
It did not matter, ultimately, that Mr Mosisili and his brand new party still managed to win the most votes in the May2012 polls, garnering 48 of Parliament’s 120 seats. By failing to win an outright majority, the DC was reliant on finding coalition partners to form a government. No one, however, was interested in joining forces with the man who had dominated Basotho politics for so long.
Instead, Mr Metsing, now the LCD leader, aligned his 26 seats with the 30 garnered by Thomas Thabane’s All Basotho Congress (ABC, also an LCD offshoot). A third party, the Basotho National Party, led by Thesele Maseribane, joined this coalition with its five seats, giving the alliance 61 seats and the narrowest of majorities.
Mr Thabane’s inauguration onJune8th 2012 as prime minister was a historic day. It was proof, after Mr Mosisili’s long stint, that Lesotho was a functional democracy where political change could and did happen.
“The real winner of this election is no other (sic) than the people of Lesotho themselves,” Mr Thabane said in his inauguration speech at a packed Setsoto Stadium in Maseru. “Their will takes precedence over our personal wishes. Let us get on with the business of governing and of developing our country for the benefit of our people and the future generations.”
He appealed to his fellow political leaders to let “the dust of the election campaigns” settle, and warned—presciently, as it turned out—against further divisions. “We, the people of Lesotho, are fortunate that we are a homogeneous nation that speaks one language, that practises a common culture and that is united by kinship. We are untouched by the sentiments of tribalism or religious schisms. It would be folly to allow ourselves to be divided by the differences of our political opinions.”
Coalitions, however, are notoriously difficult to manage. They are, after all, usually alliances of convenience rather than principle. It did not take long for tensions between Mr Thabane and Mr Metsing, the new deputy prime minister, to emerge. The pair struggled to work together, with Mr Metsing accusing Mr Thabane of being non-consultative and authoritarian. For his part, Mr Metsing was perhaps frustrated to once again be the bridesmaid and not the bride, which seems to be the story of his political career.
These differences came to a head two years later in June 2014. Mr Metsing announced plans to take the LCD out of the ruling coalition, and then to form a new government with former Prime Minister Mosisili’s DC. “We have decided that we can no longer endure the humiliation that the honourable Dr Thabane is inflicting upon the LCD by his unilateral and undemocratic conduct,” Mr Metsing told journalists.
But Mr Thabane was a step ahead of Mr Metsing. The day before his coalition collapsed, Mr Thabane succeeded in persuading King Letsie III to suspend parliament for nine months, thereby preventing a vote of no confidence and the formation of a new government. He told the king—whose role is almost entirely ceremonial and has been minor in the current crisis—that suspending parliament would give the squabbling party leaders time to sort out their differences.
Then South Africa stepped in. Lesotho is important to South Africa, not just because it completely surrounds the tiny mountain kingdom. (Lesotho is only marginally larger than Gauteng, by far South Africa’s smallest province and where most of its industry is concentrated.) Lesotho matters because Gauteng’s current and future water supply depends on the existing and future dams that are part of the Lesotho Highlands Water Project. South Africa’s water security depends on a stable Lesotho.
Under the guise of the Southern African Development Community, South Africa muscled the three coalition leaders, Messrs Thabane, Metsing and Maseribane, into mediation. Several rounds of talks culminated in the Windhoek Declaration, agreed on July 30th, in which Mr Metsing agreed to remain in Mr Thabane’s coalition, and Mr Thabane agreed to ask the kingre-open parliament.
Neither kept their promise, however, and the tensions between them began to emerge. Mr Thabane’s signature anti-corruption drive suddenly snared Mr Metsing, who found himself in court on August 1sthaving to answer questions over dodgy tenders and strange deposits into his bank account. Mr Thabane, meanwhile, was fast losing confidence in his armed forces, led by Lieutenant-General Tlali Kamoli, who happened to have been appointed by Mr Mosisili. Lt.-Gen Kamoli is said to be friendly with both the former prime minister and Mr Metsing.
The question of the armed forces’ allegiances pushed Lesotho to the brink. On August 29th Mr Thabane announced that he was replacing Lt.-Gen Kamoli, explaining later in a letter to South Africa’s president, Jacob Zuma, that he was concerned that Lt.-Gen Kamoli wanted to overthrow his government. On August 30th, the army suddenly appeared on Maseru’s streets on the pretext of maintaining public order. Troops occupied police stations and one policeman was killed.
Lt.-Gen Kamoli claimed that police were about to provide arms to political parties, and that he was acting to protect the state.The prime minister however, had a different point of view. Mr Thabane rushed for safety to South Africa, claiming that the army had led a coup against his government; meanwhile, the army chief appointed to succeed Lt.-Gen. Kamoli went into hiding and was unable to take up office immediately.(He has subsequently, but reports suggest that a significant proportion of the army remains loyal to Lt.-Gen Kamoli).
Bizarrely, Maseru and the rest of the country remained largely unaffected by the crisis. Schools stayed open; workers went to work; and most government services continued as usual while the politicians traded accusation and counter-accusation. After several days, Mr Thabane returned to Maseru under the protection of South African troops, and South Africa stepped up its mediation efforts.
Over the course of a month, and with the personal intervention of both Mr Zuma and Cyril Ramaphosa, South Africa’s deputy president, a deal was reached that acknowledged that Mr Thabane’s administration was no longer tenable. Although Mr Thabane remains in charge, elections were brought forward by two years to February 2017. Parliament resumed business under a mandate strictly limited to the passing of the national budget.
Lesotho, in other words, is treading water until the next election. The prime minister is powerless and the Parliament is not allowed to pass legislation. In their individual bids to assume more control of the country, Lesotho’s leaders have left it rudderless, and the country is effectively running on autopilot. It is unclear yet what this will mean for Lesotho’s long-suffering citizens. It is not going to help solve the country’s real issues, such as poverty, service provision and healthcare.
And for what? Their squabbling was not over issues or policy. It was about personal power. All three of the country’s main parties are related: Mr Thabane’s ABC and Mr Mosisili’s DC are both offshoots of the LCD. Their policies are largely indistinguishable. The differences between them have more to do with the geographic spread of their constituencies than programmes or strategy.
“Basically, the ABC these days is an urban party, splitting votes with the small labour parties, while the LCD and DC have broader bases throughout the country,” explained John Aerni-Flessner, an African history professor at Michigan State University, and a specialist on Lesotho. “ABC has been trying for some time, without a lot of success, to expand its base into rural areas, and LCD and DC have been trying to get more urban voters.”
For now, the promise of new elections has calmed tensions. The army is back in its barracks; the prime minister is home. All parties have expressed satisfaction and commitment to the mediated solution. Given what has come before, however, it is hard to shake the suspicion that this peace will last only until the next disgruntled politician sees a chance to further his own position, even if it comes once again at the cost of his country’s development.
