The supporters of the PFDJ include those who are supporting it because they consider it as “ours” and they do not want “them” to come to power; it includes those whose self-interest is tied to the PFDJ.  It includes people motivated by hate and fear. But it also includes nationalists. It includes people motivated by love. Its supporters think that the size and “diversity” of its support proves that it is a People’s Front.  Its opponents either deny the size of its support or, scanning the constituency, are confused by what they consider an odd collection.  But there is a unifying and coherent theme and we don't understand it due to the PFDJ's biggest scam: its name. If we understood this, we would engage its supporters and ex-supporters more intelligently using precision politics. For starters, let’s think of the PFDJ as the PFUN.  Because the PFUN doesn’t have support in Eritrea only.  It also has a constituency in Ethiopia--some of whom are still dreaming of Erithiopia.  First the appetizer...

Welcome to Erithiopia.  Our republic’s motto is “Imagine that!” which has recently replaced “Haqu de’a!” itself a replacement for the much longer “Nai libiKa diKa?”  Remember how we used to “think beyond borders” before we had a border war?  We are thinking beyond again—yes, imagine that.  You couldn’t have picked a better time to visit because we are holding our first campaign for the Office of The King. 

The leading candidates are His Excellency Isaias Afwerki and His Aboyness Aboy Sebhat. 

His Excellency, one of the founders of EPLF, has just finished two of his five-year terms of presiding over Eritrea. (not including the additional 5 years of “mokshish” he gave himself prior to the ratification of the constitution in 1997.)  According to Eritrea’s minor inconvenience (aka, the constitution), he cannot hold the office of the presidency after May 2007, but we are short on calendars in Eritrea. Regretfully, he didn’t use the 15 years of his presidency to strengthen the legislative and judicial branches and, therefore, cannot be Speaker of the House or Chief Justice. The only post that appeals to him is that of King.  Of Erithiopia.  

His opponent, Aboy Sebhat, is (one of?) the founder (s?) of TPLF and nobody knows exactly what he does--whether he is a solo act or an agent for Meles. Those who are unkind would say that he is not relevant in the politics of Ethiopia. Those who are a bit ruder, like His Excellency, have accused His Aboyness of being senile. (Regretfully, his Excellency didn’t use the past 15 years to develop any social skills.) 

Naturally, both candidates think that they are well qualified for the post of King of Erithiopia.  Coincidentally, the campaign platforms of both candidates are a line from a Mel Brooks movie: “it is good to be the king.”

Recently, both gave long (l..o..n..g) interviews to friendly media outlets. For some reason, some people just cannot speak in succinct terms and it is a challenge to find the periods in the long sentences of their articles, which may run up to six pages. Freudian slip. I mean their interviews.  But you can’t change your curious nature and you have to read, I mean, listen to them. Besides, what kind of subject would you be if you didn’t listen to your future kings?

So I listened—but not attentively. Call it civil disobedience: one way to punish the long-winded is by fast-forwarding and…hey, hey, stop skipping me: I am just warming up here.  You can distract yourself, as I did, with some form of entertainment if this appears like a chore—the same concept Chinese restaurants use with their sweet-and-sour meals.  I had His Excellency on Realaudio; His Aboyness on Windows Media Player and, oh, I was also tinkering with my ipod earpiece, as I jumped, randomly, from Prince to Rage Against The Machine, to Stevie Wonder, to Tekle Tesfazghi. This is the medley of what I heard:  

Dig if you will a picture… We didn’t fight the people of Tigray, we did not fight the Amhara; we did not fight the Oromo; we did not fight…$*&# you, I won’t do what you tell me! No Gurage, no Beni Shangul. No Ogadeni, no Wolloye, no Gondere.. No first of spring, no song to sing, no April rain, no flowers bloom, no summer’s high, no warm July, no harvest moon to light, one tender August night…ane shock iye zblo. Crocodile tears.  They call it nbAt HargeS, HargeS yinebE diyu ilka kHtet ykal iyu…This is what it sounds like when doves cry…we care more about Eritreans than the ELF and EPLF did; we wrote six books… Seram Temagwati ayretaE behali: mekzen dinQurena, FilTet meQaleli:: ane shock iye zblo… Mhur kmeSie iyu kwers botaka!”

When exactly will they come Prophet Tekle…oh, did I miss anything?  Not much; besides, they weren’t talking to me: they were talking to their supporters in Erithiopia.  I was looking for Isaiasisms and all I got was nbAt HargeS.  Which takes us to our subject: what do the PFDJ constituencies have in common and how would changing its name help us engage them more intelligently?   

PFUN 

What does the UN in PFUN stand for? Scan the political parties of the world with these clues: think of political parties that are obsessed with nationalism to the exclusion of all other identities; parties that have excessive interest on their territorial borders; parties that direct their people’s attention to enemies within and without; parties that have a nostalgia for the past and believe that the only way forward is by going backward.  Parties that venerate militarism and proscribe a military code of conduct for civilians.  Parties that are jingoistic. Parties that remind people of their duties but never about their rights.   

I am talking about ultranationalist parties. In Eritrea, their home is the PFUN—and if truth-in-labeling laws applied to political parties, the People’s Front for Democracy & Justice (PFDJ) would change its name to Party For Ultra Nationalists (PFUN.) 

The labeling here is not being used to denigrate people—just to provide a more accurate description of the party and its beliefs.  

The PFDJ is a military institution—a top-down hierarchy—and, by definition, it cannot be a democratic body. The military’s idea of justice—heavy on discipline and meritocracy; light on charity and mercy—is at odds with what a civilian world considers justice.  When was the last time His Excellency pardoned a prisoner?  Exactly.    

The DJ in PFDJ is just an appendage. But don’t take my word for it: if you are a PFDJ supporter, apply yourself these tests.  “Do I believe in multi-party democracy for Eritrea at this moment”? I doubt it.  Next: justice. Your instinct is, like the UN's MDG, to define it using economic terms (roads, schools and clean water). But if we tried to use political terms (judges, lawyers, due process), and if we agreed that justice refers to fairness and equality, you would be emphasizing only half the meaning of the word. Your pride that the PFDJ administers its laws with an even hand (equality) far outweighs your shame that there isn’t much fairness in the way the laws are administered.  If you want to upset a PFDJ supporter, tell him his party treats Eritreans unequally. If you tell him, it is unfair, but equally unfair, he will consider that a compliment. So, we could drop DJ and you really would not miss “democracy” or “justice.” 

If we dropped DJ, would you embrace “ultranationalism”? Let’s test that, as well: if I were to tell you, “you are not a nationalist; you are an ultranationalist” would you be offended or would you say, “thank you”?  After all, the word has no stigma in our region. The logic is: if nationalism is good, ultra-nationalism must be better.  

The PFDJ then is an ultranational institution in everything but name. Its attitude, its beliefs, its priorities, its defining characteristics are all those of ultranationalist parties.  Above all, it is adept at manufacturing and distributing the compensation package that all ultranationalist parties are famous for.   It is this package that draws in the PFDJ supporter; sustains them, and makes it nearly impossible for them to leave the party. 

It is the compensation package that draws new recruits to the PFDJ.  And despite all claims to its diverse nature, it really is a party of ultranationalists.  And in any country that is at peace with itself and its neighbors, ultranationalists are a tiny minority.

Uppers 

So much for its diversity.  But what is it that ultranationalist parties give their members? Villas? Parties? Financial interest?  Hardly! No Eritrean has ever gotten the upper hand in any financial transaction with the PFDJ.  So what exactly is the compensation package? It is flattery, wrapped with a complimentary foil. It aggrandizes you, sweet talks you and seduces you. It is uppers: pills. The Eritrean version of this psychological seduction goes as follows:  

You are an Eritrean: be proud.  You are quite exceptional.  You have a unique history; you are an ancient and civilized people. You are better than most.  In fact, you are second to none.  You are destined for greatness: your current hardship is temporary.  You have an orderly society.  You persevere, you are not a whiner and you are not a quitter.  You produced one of the best guerrilla groups in the world and you deserve the best military in the world.   

Pride.  A sense of belonging.  A sense of destiny.  A promise of order.  A cause larger than yourself.  A reason to be optimistic. A victory certain.  The PFDJ (and for that matter, all ultranationalist parties) have a narrative, a clarity of direction, and certainty about the future. “Follow us and we will take you to the mountain top: the promised land, a land where everybody has clean water, functioning schools, orderly cities, and rising incomes.”  It is very appealing to people who like all aspects of being a soldier—except the part about being injured and killed. 

This is why the PFDJ has supporters in Eritrea. 

How about in Ethiopia? There are two groups who are attracted to its message: the ultranationalists and disenfranchised.  Ordinarily, all ultranationalists are xenophobes and would want nothing to do with anything imported.  But there is a twist here: the Ethiopian ultranationalists consider all Eritreans to be Ethiopians so, by embracing Isaias Afwerki, they are embracing a fellow Ethiopian. Not just an ordinary Ethiopian, but the kind they admire—a warrior/conqueror on par with their greatest (Teodros, Yohannes, Menelik, Haile Selasse.) 

Welcome back again to Erithiopia. The cleverest part of His Excellency’s campaign speech is when he told the Ethiopians that the thing that “we are most proud of is the fact that we did not wage war against the Amhara, the Tigrayans, the Oromo, the Somali…we did not even wage war against Haile Selasse or Mengistu.  We fought against those who supported the regimes.”

It was a triple-hit: there is the reference to “we”—which may refer to Eritreans or the royal I; (a subtle appeal to the royalists); there was the litany of the ethnic groups (we are all one people) and there was a re-definition of the enemy (foreigners.)       

The disenfranchised—the Oromo, the Somali, etc—see a savior, somebody who will alter the balance of power in their favor.  They are seeking the help of an ultranationalist party to defeat a party they define as fascistic.

This is why the PFDJ has supporters in Ethiopia.  And it is these two constituencies that His Excellency was addressing in his “interview.”

The Inevitable Fissure

Ultranationalist parties thrive in times of war and crisis because they can use emotional but persuasive arguments to appeal to the patriotism of nationalists. But the psychological boost of the ultranationalists comes at great cost--militarization, wars, isolation, religious/ethnic polarization, dilution of identity, a police state, and finally, a full-fledged dictatorship. At some point, there is erosion in the support.  Most of the nationalist and some of the ultranationalists split. 

Downers 

How does one challenge the ultranationalist without alienating the nationalists?  How do you embrace patriotism while rejecting jingoism? How do you support just wars while rejecting war-mongering? How do you advocate Eritrea’s interests without strengthening the hands of the ultranationalists?   In short, how do we sing along with Wedi Tukabo’s patriotic songs without endorsing the whole package?

It requires precision politics.  A scalpel.  Often, what comes from the opposition is a sledgehammer, a psychological downer: 

“Read our political programme. Pride? What pride? That is just another word for arrogance and chauvinism.  It is not allowed here!  We are just poor Africans from another poor African country.  Accept it! Against All Odds? Ha! That was nothing but a series of liquidations, interrupted by civil wars and an occasional battle against Ethiopia. There is no Eritrea: there are only different ethnic groups who inhabit a political map called Eritrea.  It is artificially stitched and it could all unravel unless you agree to our terms.  By the way, have you read our political programme yet?”

When people’s optimism is crashed, what they want to hear is not “I told you so!” They do not want uncoated pills of political programs.  They want a reason to be proud and optimistic again.  They want a reason to believe in Eritrea again.  If all you are offering is disillusion—they can do that on their own, thank you.  I reject uppers because they are harmful to me so now you will give me downers?

We need to draw our own mountain and write our own narrative. And I don’t mean democracy—which is just a blueprint on how to build the mountain.  I mean a vision of what we will find when we climb the mountain—a reason to hope, a cause to be optimistic.  Until we do so, some of our compatriots, and even our neighbors, will continue to climb the PFDJ’s mountain of heap.