There are fads in political science and in the policy world and the 1990s produced a prominent example: the decade's virtually universal infatuation with democracy. The end of the Cold War seemed to have removed the last remaining impediments to democracy—communist tyranny and subversion—and around the world, humankind's natural inclination toward freedom and equality was expected to be exhibited in heart-warming periodic elections. Or so it seemed. Policymakers celebrated the collapse of authoritarian regimes and welcomed new nations into the community of democracies; political scientists busied themselves with analysis of the mechanics of transitions to democracy, the technicalities of democratic institutions, and the myriad contributions of civil society.

By the end of the decade, intimations that all was not what it seemed were beginning to surface. Not all elections were producing benign and enlightened policies, much less policymakers. Indeed, some elections were little more than competitions among autocrats, others but a prelude to civil unrest and conflict. The transition to democracy was not nearly as straightforward as had been hoped.

By the end of 2001, and thanks partly to the attribution of the events of September 11 to a band of criminal zealots nestled away in a long-forgotten (and hardly democratic) corner of the world, democracy was fast fading as the policy dilemma and scholarly puzzle of the moment. Suddenly, states, particularly failed, collapsed, and fragile states, were the project of the day. Not only were they obstacles in the development of democracy, but they also seemed to be potential sources of international threats, including drugs, crime and terrorism.

Democratic Reform in Africa displays this paradigm shift in its very pages. Reflecting their normative and theoretical commitments, the authors are reluctant to abandon the focus on democracy with which they began. The outgrowth of a conference held in June 2000, the book was clearly intended to be a sort of midterm review of the progress of African states toward democracy. Its authors are too good, too honest, and too alert to what had been going on in Africa, however, not to have noticed and not to acknowledge the fragility of not only the democracies but also the very states of the region. As a result, there is a subtle but discernable tension in a number of the contributions, as the reality of collapsing states shows through the worn cloth of democratic facades.

The book's editor, E. Gyimah-Boadi, tacitly acknowledges this tension in his introduction, saying that while “the results of the reforms, especially in the political realm, have sometimes been outstanding … this volume also confirms that success is not the only theme in the story of Africa's reform experience” (p. 2). Gyimah-Boadi, both in his introductory overview and his contribution on “Civil Society and Democratic Development,” and Larry Diamond, author of the volume's concluding reflections, are the most reluctant to abandon democracy and democratization as the driving analytical perspective. Most of the other contributors are not only far less sanguine about the prospects for democracy; in fact, they are far less committed to the analytical framework imposed by an emphasis on democracy in theory.

Indeed, it would be a pity if policymakers and political scientists interested in issues of economic reform, conflict, and state formation and deformation passed up this volume because it seemed to be yet another exemplar of the now vast and deeply unsatisfying literature on democratization. It is that, but it is also, and more usefully, an early volley in what promises to be an equally vast effort to understand exactly what the end of the Cold War really meant for politics in Africa.

From Michael Bratton and Robert Mattes's “What ‘The People’ Say about Reforms” to Steven Freidman's “South Africa: Building Democracy After Apartheid,” the contributors report over and over that if democracy does not “deliver,” people are willing to move on to something else. As Friedman puts it, democracy was advertised “as a means to material ends (which may, presumably, be dispensable if superior means present themselves)” (p. 237). Africans appear to be sick and tired of living with promises unfulfilled, services undelivered, and futures unsecured, and they are increasingly willing to consider supporting someone—anyone—who might make the trains run on time. That might be a technocrat (see Bratton and Mattes, p. 74), but it might be a crook. As Sahr J. Kpundeh points out in his excellent “Corruption and Corruption Control,” “recent empirical evidence suggests that corruption thrives where the state is unable to protect private property and contractual rights or to provide institutions that support the rule of law” (p. 124). Protection rackets have the great merit of providing protection, and when no one else is doing that, rackets have considerable appeal.

Similarly, there is a bracing candor in several essays, notably Stephen John Stedman and Terrence Lyon's “Conflict in Africa,” about the corrosive quality of violence in many parts of the continent: “Wars in Africa,” they tell us, “are increasingly becoming regionalized and the distinction between civil war and international war less meaningful” (p. 143). This does not bode well for the stability of some of the most important countries in the region. In Nigeria, for example, as Adigun Agbaje observes, “ethnic and regional groups and their militias have equally become a major part of the political landscape, often inflicting or threatening to inflict violence for political advantage…. These … altercations persist amid official fear about an increase in the illegal importation of small arms into the country by various groups and from literally all entry points into Nigeria” (pp. 218–19).

The empirical evidence amply displayed in this very useful volume does not support a focus on democracy and democratization, however much we—and its authors—may wish it did. The Africa described here is not a land of miracles, of development against the odds, of the triumph of liberty against doubters and naysayers. It is a much more predictable, pedestrian place, a place of ordinary aspirations to, and daily struggles for, law and order, clean drinking water, good health, and, not least—but not only—reliable, accountable government. It is a credit to the authors that, however reluctantly, they provide us with the evidence to draw that conclusion.