Chad: A Dangerous Backslide To Those Years Of Brutality?
Chad: A Dangerous Backslide To Those Years Of Brutality?
A damning human rights report has exposed a chilling pattern of abuse against civilians, echoing some of the darkest days of torture and deaths in prison under former dictator Hissène Habré.
Even now I don’t sleep. I am traumatised by what happened to me. I couldn’t breathe in the Sarkozy [truck …] I am haunted by it.
—Former Koro Toro detainee
The Trip That Never Was
The presidential election in Chad on 6 May 2024 could have led to a second round a month later. But it turned out to be an easy victory for Mahamat Idriss Déby.
With slightly more than 60% of the votes, the incumbent president delivered a decisive win over the main opposition leader, his Prime Minister Succès Masra.
A second round was unnecessary, allowing Déby, who had been serving as the temporary head of state since his father’s death in April 2021, to begin a full term of his own.
In keeping with a long tradition in French-speaking Africa, where newly-elected presidents often take an official trip to Paris, Mahamat Idriss Déby scheduled a visit.
He was expected to be the official guest of French President Emmanuel Macron on 15 July 2024—right after France's National Day. Then, Déby canceled his trip.
But why?
Details are sparse, but it appears Mahamat Idriss Déby was the target of an ongoing investigation. Speculation suggests he had spent close to a million euros on bespoke clothing at a high-end Paris tailor’s.
Obviously, potential mismanagement of public funds is a serious issue for a country like Chad.
According to the World Bank, Chad is one of the world’s poorest nations, with more than a third of the population living in extreme poverty. Such extravagant spending would understandably raise eyebrows.
However, according to a new report by Human Rights Watch, there’s something more troubling about Chad than the lavish spending of its president.
Chad might have slid back into something reminiscent of the brutal years under former president Hissène Habré.
Worse Than Hell
Under normal circumstances, the mention of Koro Toro would conjure associations with the anthropological significance of this harsh settlement, located in the Djurab desert about 600 km from the capital, N'Djamena. Koro Toro is the site of the 1995 discovery of Australopithecus bahrelghazali, a fossil hominin.
However, anthropology was not the reason why Koro Toro came to the attention of the New York-based organisation, Human Rights Watch.
The place is notable for hosting a notorious maximum-security desert prison, known for its perfect isolation. Fans of Alexandre Dumas may picture a Château d'If, surrounded not by water but by dry and dusty sand.
This prison is used by the Chadian government to detain captured fighters of Boko Haram and Chadian rebel groups. The country’s opposition often refers to it as a penal colony.
And penal colony may indeed be a fitting description, as Human Rights Watch researchers have found evidence suggesting the place is "worse than hell."
In a report released today, Human Rights Watch documents serious abuse suffered by protesters during their transfer from N’Djamena to Koro Toro, and subsequently within the notorious prison itself.
But how, in the first place, did these poor protesters end up in this God-forsaken place? Well, here’s the account of the HRW researchers, based on direct testimony:
On 20 October 2022, thousands of people took to the streets of N’Djamena, and several other towns across the country’s south, to protest the extension of the transition period by two years.
The “hereditary” transfer of power from the slain father to the son had initially been met by protests, demanding civilian democratic rule.
The police, the army, and gendarmes systematically responded by targeting opposition parties during those early protests.
But as HRW tells us, the violence used against protestors on 20 October 2022, was unprecedented.
“Security forces fired live ammunition at protesters, killing and injuring scores, beat people, chased them into homes, and detained them,” HWR says in its report.
That day, authorities didn’t just seek to crack down on the protesters. Many arrests were made, and the following day, security forces crammed detainees into open air trucks at a military base, and later transported them to the infamous desert prison. So, what happened there?
Insomnia
At Koro Toro, detainees accused of participating in the 20 October 2022 protests were held in violation of the law, denied due process, and subjected to very limited judicial oversight.
—HRW, Worse Than Hell report
“Even now I don’t sleep,” an ex-detainee tells Human Rights Watch. “I am traumatised by what happened to me. I couldn’t breathe in the Sarkozy [truck] ... I am haunted by it.”
These are words of profound sadness, heavy with an unattended sense of injustice. Yet, this is the testimony of a lucky one. Many of those bundled into the trunks never went back.
At least four people failed to make it through the transit to the prison, as Human Rights Watch documented. Six others later died in detention. And relatives were not officially informed of these deaths.
In fact, some received news of the tragedies through informal channels. And all of them are deprived of closure, as the remains of their loved ones have never been released for burial.
“Everything I saw at Koro Toro was terrible,” another ex-detainee testifies. “I was pardoned, but for what? What did I do wrong?”
Yes, everything about Koro Toro is intended to elicit despair. Of course, there’s this distance that makes for no possible visit of family members. But down to the very nicknames of the two prisons, which are part of the complex, Koro Toro is meant for breaking the human spirit.
Koro Toro Habré and Koro Toro Déby—the respective designations of the buildings—are named after the previous warlords, Hissène Habré and Idris Déby Itno, who ruled the country through recurrent spates of political violence.
Just like those infamous death and torture chambers under Habre’s regime, Koro Toro locks in many suspects who do not even know exactly why they are there.
“At Koro Toro, detainees accused of participating in the 20 October 2022 protests were held in violation of the law,” HRW says in its report. “They [were] denied due process, and subjected to very limited judicial oversight.”
Clearly, this is a situation that calls for redress. Yet, it seems that judicial remedy for the victims will be hard to obtain.
On 23 November 2023, the transitional government passed a law providing a general amnesty, making it impossible to prosecute security forces involved in the violent repression. So, would this be how it inexorably end for the survivors of Koro Toro? Maybe, not.
The Habré Precedent
For nearly a decade, from 1982 to 1990, former Chadian president Hissène Habré was a powerful man, unfazed by international condemnations of the widespread human rights abuses—including torture, extrajudicial killings, and crimes against humanity—that took place under his watch.
After his overthrow in 1990, Habré fled to Senegal. For over 25 years, victims and human rights organisations campaigned to bring him to justice. It seemed that Habré would never be held accountable for his misdeeds.
On 30 May 2016 however, Habré was finally brought to account by a special court in Dakar. His life sentence would be confirmed a year later.
This precedent suggests that all hope is not lost for the former detainees of Koro Toro.
Aware that persistent advocacy and international pressure could lead to justice, Human Rights Watch has a clear and modest request for the relevant UN special rapporteurs:
They should visit Chad to examine the cases of torture and deaths in custody, including those outlined in Worse Than Hell. Then, they should make public any account of such a visit.
This may lead to a repeal of that blanket amnesty law. This certainly should be more worrying to President Mahamat Idriss Déby than the speculations about his lavish spending on clothing in Paris.