Eritrea cellphone curbs put democracy on hold

By Emily Wax
The Washington Post

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KEREN, Eritrea — The bowls of spaghetti were hot. The chrome-plated cappuccino maker hissed. Outside on porches, students and graying men in frayed three-piece suits sipped espressos from tiny white cups. Missing from the country's cafe culture is one major modern convenience: cellphones. And that's not something young Eritreans find charming or fair.

Eritrea is the only country in Africa where the phones have not become a staple of urban life. The government opened the application process for the country's first cellphones three weeks ago, but the notice indicated that only government ministers, diplomats and selected humanitarian organizations would be considered.

Critics say that keeping mobile phones from the public is a symptom of the increase in repression since Eritrea's 1998-2000 border war with Ethiopia. Citing a renewed threat of war, the government has denied exit visas to citizens younger than 30, extended national military and public service from 18 months to an open-ended period for young people, jailed political critics and shut down the free press.

"We are cut off from the world," said Yadit, 24, sitting in a cafe in Keren, a city about 50 miles northwest of the capital, Asmara. He asked that his last name not be published because the government often arrests its critics.

Tools of freedom

In many places in Africa, where scratchy land lines function sporadically, cellphones have become not just a standard amenity but an indispensable tool of freedom and safety in war. In northeastern Congo, residents pooled cash to buy cellphones, which they used to notify relatives when rebels were on the move.

In Kenya, the phones have been credited with aiding democracy. Polling-place workers in December 2002 elections armed with mobile phones quickly called in results to the news media and to election headquarters, making vote-rigging difficult.

"The significance of the mobile handset as a political tool lies in the fact that Africa today has more mobile subscribers than the number of connected fixed lines," said Christopher Wambua, public and media liaison for the Communications Commission of Kenya, a nongovernmental group. "It's revolutionary for democracy because it gives people real connections with the outside world."

In Kenya, the number of mobile subscribers is more than 2 million, compared with 340,000 fixed-line subscribers, according to the commission. It said Uganda has more than 500,000 mobile subscribers and 60,000 fixed lines. In Nigeria, Africa's most populous nation with 133 million people, cellphones outnumber land lines 3 to 1, according to the cellphone company MTN.

An issue of government control

But in the former Italian colony of Eritrea — a country of 4 million on the Red Sea in the Horn of Africa — there is a new arena for the old struggle between liberty and government control.

"The Eritrean government is extremely repressive and goes to extraordinary lengths to prevent access to information," said Jemera Rone, a researcher in the Africa division of Human Rights Watch.

"So you want a mobile phone?" Emmanuel Hagdo, a public-relations officer in the Information Ministry, whispered into his desk phone. He was speaking to a British citizen pleading for a permit.

"Do you have a resident permit?" Hagdo asked. "Photographs? A copy of your address and your lease? And you need this for what? Work? Yes. OK. It shouldn't be a problem."

He hung up and then said, "We don't really need these phones. Who wants them? When I am home, I just want to relax. These phones will cause people to bother you."

But members of the country's increasingly frustrated younger generation don't see it that way. In Asmara, a discernible anxiety hangs over many cafes, which were once places where politics was discussed freely and three independent newspapers were read over coffee.

Older people are reluctant to question President Isaias Afwerki, a heroic figure during the 30-year struggle with Ethiopia for Eritrean independence, whom they call the George Washington of Eritrea. They say younger people are spoiled and have no business complaining about national service after their elders fought so hard for independence. But the young say they want cellphones, the Internet, jobs and a future where they won't have to serve endless years in the military.

"I can't wait to ... get away," said Theodoros, 23, a math student who insisted on speaking from his darkened car. "There are no freedoms here. We don't even have mobiles. Even Congo has cellphones. Sometimes, I feel like I hate this country. It's not that I really hate it, but there are no opportunities here. If you want to do anything other than be a soldier, you have to leave."

In recent months, the U.N. peacekeeping mission that guards the unmarked border between Ethiopia and Eritrea has reported that Eritreans have been sneaking into Ethiopia to avoid extended national service. There also have been reports of young people fleeing to Sudan in trucks.

"We are tired of hearing about their struggle. All of those dreams are gone now and it's a dictatorship here. We have no freedom to enjoy our country that everyone fought so hard for," said Dessaze, a 27-year-old soldier who asked that his last name not be used because he feared arrest. "They don't want us to have cellphones, because they are scared of what we will say."

Promise of a social revolution

In the struggle for independence, the Eritrean People's Liberation Front preached social as well as political revolution. After independence in 1993, Eritrea became the great hope of the continent, with its still-spotless, crime-free streets, progressive constitution, largely corruption-free government and a highly regarded fighter-turned-president. But Isaias has since outlawed opposition parties, and the one-party state has become increasingly sensitive about public scrutiny.

Eleven senior government officials and former revolutionary leaders were arrested in September 2001 after publishing an open letter to Isaias requesting democratic reforms. The G-11, as they are known, remain in prison and have never been tried, human-rights observers said. Later that September, two Eritreans who worked for the U.S. Embassy were arrested. No charges have been filed, despite a State Department demand for a trial.

Eritreans overseas have posted Web sites questioning the government and voicing concern about the loss of freedom.

The New York-based Committee to Protect Journalists said Eritrea was Africa's leading jailer of journalists; more than 17 local journalists have disappeared there. Only one television-and-radio station still operates, and it is owned by the government.

Human-rights groups say the government is using the threat of another war with Ethiopia as an excuse for the restrictions and the failure to hold presidential elections, scheduled three years ago. Tensions remain high. Ethiopia pulled out of an international agreement to demarcate the border, and the talks are deadlocked.

The Eritrean government has said it is frustrated by the lack of international pressure on Ethiopia, a country far larger and with more political clout. So Eritrea remains mobilized for war. Unrestricted use of cellphones, government officials said, could lead to espionage and treason.

Copyright © 2004 The Seattle Times Company