— Chad’s
president, Idriss Déby, speaks in a soft mumble, wears spectacles and
an immaculate white robe, and is to be found in the quiet inner recesses
of a gilt-edged, marble presidential palace — under crystal chandeliers
and vaulted arches that seem part Renaissance, part Vegas — at the
dusty center of his country’s capital.
Yet
he is undeniably one of Africa’s most formidable strongmen. His men
once whipped Col. Muammar el-Qaddafi’s fighters in a desert battle, and
he has survived numerous rebel assaults and coup attempts. More
recently, his forces have successfully battled the Nigerian terrorist
group Boko Haram and Al Qaeda’s regional affiliate, Al Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb, or AQIM, shoring up his credentials as the West’s favorite African autocrat.
Still, in discussing his military’s victory in the Boko Haram stronghold of Damasak, in Nigeria,
Mr. Déby showed no hint of triumphalism. Instead, he was frustrated,
impatient: His men were stuck, still awaiting any sign of Nigerian
forces who could come take over. He does not want to be holding Nigerian
territory, he said. He wants to be on the move.
“We
want the Nigerians to come and occupy, so we can advance,” Mr. Déby
complained in an interview at his palace last week. “We’re wasting time,
for the benefit of Boko Haram,” he added. “We can’t go any further in Nigeria. We’re not an army of occupation.”
The president says he took up the war against Boko Haram reluctantly, and mostly as a bid for economic survival: Chad is a landlocked country, dependent on land trade routes through the militant group’s territory.
In
the process, he has embarrassed Nigeria — a small-country president
cleaning up a far bigger and richer one’s mess — and he has overshadowed
the militaries of neighboring Cameroon and Niger that are less well
equipped, while earning the gratitude of Western leaders.
Those
leaders once shunned him for his shaky human rights record, low
corruption ranking, nepotism and brutal police force. In fact, those
conditions have not changed. His country ranks fourth from the bottom
on the United Nations Human Development Index of 187 nations, with
rock-bottom life expectancy and schooling levels. The Chadian elite
connected to him enjoy gargantuan villas, looming above the battered
one-story dwellings of ordinary people. Last week, clandestinely
recorded video images showed his police officers whipping half-naked
student demonstrators. And his military forces were accused of serious
human rights violations during their intervention in the Central African
Republic last year.
Yet
Mr. Déby, 62, is a pariah no more. Now the French foreign minister
smiles at him in photographs. Although he insists he is not “Africa’s
policeman,” the West is only too happy to call on his forces in a region
seething with Islamist terrorists.
While
his tough, turbaned soldiers occupy towns in Nigeria recently ruled by
Boko Haram, his up-to-date helicopter gunships are bombing the
bloodthirsty sect in other places. Already, at least three important
towns in Nigeria’s northeast — Damasak, Dikwa and Gamboru — have been
taken by the Chadians. And his troops, after driving thousands of miles
into the desert, are still in northern Mali taking on Al Qaeda in the Islamic Maghreb.
With
billions of dollars in oil revenues since the early 2000s, military
spending at least double that of most African countries, and 40 years of
tough civil wars, most of which Mr. Déby has personally taken part in,
he has built himself a formidable fighting machine whose movements and
actions he coordinates personally, say those who know him.
Without
Mr. Déby and his battle-hardened soldiers, analysts and diplomats say,
there would be nobody on the ramparts in this vulnerable part of Africa.
“The Chadians are essential. They are the most capable military in the
region, by a long shot,” said a veteran diplomat who spent years here.
“They are pretty much incomparable.”
Now,
with Boko Haram on the ropes, temporarily at least, and in no small
part thanks to his men, Mr. Déby might seem positioned for a
triumphalist victory lap. But those who know him well say this is not
how he operates.
“Déby
does things coldly. He doesn’t do things out of sentiment. That’s his
strength,” said Saleh Makki, a veteran opposition member of Parliament
who spent 147 days in Mr. Déby’s jails in 2013 after being accused —
falsely, he said — of fomenting a coup plot.
Indeed,
the army’s relative strength is itself a function of Mr. Déby’s
calculated insecurity. Rebels have made it to the capital twice in the
past 10 years, burning ministry buildings, shooting and looting in the
streets. The last time, in 2008, Mr. Déby found himself holding out
nearly alone in the palace, refusing to evacuate. He took power by force
himself at the head of a rebel movement in 1990 and has not budged
since.
“Unfortunately,
we have known lots of adventures in this country” was Mr. Déby’s
discreet summation of Chad’s postcolonial history.
Mr.
Déby’s army — lavishly equipped with Sukhoi warplanes and French light
tanks, made up substantially of fighters from his ethnicity, the
Zaghawa, and from his home region in the desert north — is as much an
instrument of personal survival as of national defense, say opposition
leaders and outside analysts.
“When
Déby is gone, this puzzle will fall to pieces,” said Saleh Kebzabo, the
longtime opposition leader here. “It’s not a national army,” he said.
“Instead of developing the country, he’s super-equipped the army,” Mr.
Kebzabo said.
Mr.
Déby first won the admiration of the West as a military tactician in
1987, when as the commander of Chadian forces he sent his men’s Toyota
pickup trucks racing through the desert to outflank Colonel Qaddafi’s
Libyan forces with a swift pincer movement. These days, the commander
chafes at Nigeria’s lack of coordination with his forces, and the much
larger country’s apparent immobility on its own terrain.
Mr. Déby’s anger at the Nigerians was barely restrained in the interview.
“All we’re doing is standing in place,” Mr. Déby said. “And it is to the advantage of Boko Haram.”
“We’ve
been on the terrain for two months, and we haven’t seen a single
Nigerian soldier,” he added. “There is a definite deficit of
coordination, and a lack of common action.”
He
said that time was running out for a larger victory against Boko Haram.
“Soon it will be rainy season,” he said, explaining that it will be
more difficult for troops to maneuver. “This will give Boko Haram a
three-month bonus.”
The
Nigerians, for their part, are publicly dismissive of their smaller
neighbor, still insisting that it is they who are doing the heavy
lifting against Boko Haram, not Mr. Déby’s forces.
Diplomats
and analysts acknowledge that the Nigerians have finally gotten into
the fight, along with the help of South African mercenaries. But they
still view Chad as an indispensable force. “I don’t see any way of
successfully confronting the Boko Haram without Chadian assistance,”
said the veteran diplomat.
That
Western recognition for Mr. Déby and his army chafes, in turn, at the
opposition and civil society in Chad, systematically locked out of power
for years.
“The
responsibility of the West is huge,” Mr. Kebzabo said angrily. “They’ve
found someone to do their dirty work. Then, they close their eyes.”
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