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Buccaneers Incorporated

Somalia pirates are the base of a new economy and the product of the
world's worst failed state, says HANS PIENAAR from Johannesburg

WHEN AN oil tanker was nabbed off the coast of Somalia last week by
the pirates of Aden, the world suddenly woke up. Piracy in the waters
around the Horn of Africa has always existed, hidden in figures by
watchdog bodies and maritime monitors, but now it has clearly become
the foundation of a whole new economy.

It's a small economy, in which pirates play Robin Hood and
redistribute much of their ransom money to the villages, in exchange
for support, cover and supplies of food. But for many Somalis it's the
best news they can hope to get in the world's worst failed state. Now,
even in South Africa, refugees' talk dwell on the subject of pirates.
There, about 30,000 Somalis are among those suffering the worst
xenophobic attacks that burst out in May this year. They are quick to
condemn the pirates, but there is a feeling that they are actually
protecting 'our waters'.

Somalia has been and still is dominated by a nomadic, pastoralist,
economy, with agriculture employing 67 percent of workers. Half of the
population's income comes from agriculture and herding, mainly sheep,
cattle, camels and goats. Insular and wary of foreigners, modern times
only began arriving with the regime of Siad Barre, who used the Cold
War to get aid for infrastructure projects from Italy, the US and the
erstwhile USSR. His projects, like roads, schools and harbours, still
form the backbone of what little industry there is. Only 12 percent of
workers were employed in industry in 2002.

Somalia's troubles really started when the dictatorial Barre's
quasi-socialist regime was overthrown in 1991. Ever since, it has been
embroiled in wars among several clans, leading to the total collapse
of the central government.

One intriguing phenomenon is the rise of alternative currencies, such
as the Mogadishu Shilling, or the Somaliland Shilling. These were
based on differently printed batches of notes imported to replace the
paper currency that had been in use for 10 years in 2000. Counterfeit
currency proliferated, which led to the fall in the value of the
various currencies.

Somalia came into the limelight as a producer of refugees and famine,
and food aid being stolen by warlords. The US launched a spectacularly
aborted invasion in 1993. Twelve peace conferences were held and
abandoned, until, rather unexpectedly, in 2000 many clans agreed on a
Transitional National Government (TNG) after months of negotiations.
But the TNG never got off the ground, with its members having to
govern from hotel rooms in Mogadishu, until they were chased out to a
border town.

The warlord-driven violence, claiming thousands of lives over the
years, continued until various local religious authorities took charge
and formed their own militias. Gathered in the Union of Islamic Courts
(UIC) in 2006, they quickly established law and order and soon
controlled large parts of the south.

But the US-led war on terror intervened. Some members of the UIC were
believed to have had links with Al Qaeda, and the organisation was
branded as terrorist. Warlords were eager to give dubious
'intelligence' to the US, which was now happy to work with them in
combating the UIC. Sudan also chipped in.

Ethiopia, fearing that rebels would claim some of its territory they
believed historically belongs to Somalia, invaded. The badly-equipped
Islamic militias were soon routed, and clan war and warlordism
returned. Today, Somalis all over the world speak with a deep
nostalgia about the few months of peace and security provided by the
UIC. "If they just let them do their own thing, the war would be
over", says Abdullahi Hassan, a leader of the Somalis in South Africa.
The UIC still controls pockets of Somalia, and "whereever they are,
there is peace and security".

AKEY MOVe in the Somalia chapter of the War on Terror involved the
'freezing' of the foreign assets of the al-Barakat bank in 2001. The
bank was central to the huge amount of remittances transferred to
relatives by the 1.1 million Somalis living abroad. An estimate, made
at a Washington conference, claims that between $825 million and
$1,000 million is involved. The problems with remitting money has been
a constant source of instability as has been fear of intervention by
the US in the same way as the illfated invasion of 1993, dramatised in
the movie Black Hawk Down.

With little governance, a black market economy has evolved to handle
foreign exchange or goods smuggled through by relatives. It's also
been fuelled by a number of relief organisations operating in Somalia,
over which clans have competed for the provision of services and also
claimed protection money. And so, the scene was set for the rise of
another section of the underground economy, one driven by piracy. When
foreign occupiers openly worked with warlords who routinely extorted
money and tribute from locals, there was no moral reason to condemn
the piracy in Somalia's waters.

Hassan, a resident of Johannesburg, says the current generation of
pirates, who are clearly in another league when it comes to audacity,
started with volunteers who wanted to replace the collapsed coast
guard. Their main preoccupation was to prevent the illegal dumping of
deadly toxic waste in waters. There was also illegal fishing by
foreign ships, many from India. "Then they went too far," says Hassan,
and they began to resort to ransom operations. Eventually, the UIC
decided to act against them and several stand-offs have ensued. Some
pirates have been publicly flogged, but the main result has been that
the pirates have moved to the north of Somalia, where the UIC'S
influence is less.

Still, people like Hassan believe they should be seen as Somalis
first: "They show belonging." Somalis watching from afar have not
taken kindly to the sinking of a pirates' boat by an Indian navy
vessel. "They killed people who had not attacked them. When did a
Somali boat attack an Indian ship?" asks Hassan. Somalis feel there is
no justice when similar action does not follow the routine
transgressions in Somali waters.

For the locals, the pirates are heroes. That they are a different
brand of criminal is shown by their treatment of hostages: they hire
caterers to bring all sorts of food "suitable to Westerners" and keep
them plied with drink. One news agency report said the whole town of
Haradhere celebrated when the pirates pulled off the feat of hijacking
a Saudi Arabian oil tanker.

A give and take relationship has developed. The pirates, who now
number as many as 1,200 in one estimate, collect provisions from
shops, and pay shop-owners with a handsome interest when they next get
some ransom money.

Maritime monitors estimate the total amount of ransom money paid so
far this year at $30 million. Much of it goes into luxury cars, new
homes and living it up in bars. Some say government officials are also
involved. In expatriate Somali circles the business is seen with
suspicion. "How are the pirates able to pull off their feats under the
noses of those navies? Is the US collaborating with them too?, asks a
South African leader who did not want to be named.

Anxiety rules. Many expatriates fear that the audacious acts will only
invite foreign powers to attack Somalia: "They might start bombing
again." Even in countries like South Africa where xenophobia keeps
them in daily fear of their lives, news of the good times brought by
the pirates won't move them to return. They question whether the good
times can last.