In an effort to help practitioners develop and implement better DDR programs, this article identifies the problems and “best practices” of DDR programs put forward in the literature and contextualizes them within the on-going philosophical debate between the proponents of the universalism of children’s rights and the proponents of the cultural relativity of childhood and children’s rights. By contextualizing the practical within the philosophical, we can see how the current impasse of the philosophical debate and its framing of the practical issues leads to important gaps and blind spots in the research and evaluation of DDR programming.

As the notion of child soldiering and the participation in armed conflict is in direct contradiction to the post-modern Western definition and understanding of childhood (Hart, Jason, 2006), the international community and international human rights groups have declared that child soldering is a grave abuse of children’s rights (CAUCS, n.d.). Consequently, the broader issue of child soldiering and the more specific issue of their demobilization and reintegration into civilian life are part of the on-going debate between the proponents of the universalism of children’s rights and the proponents of a culturally sensitive understanding of children’s rights. The universalist perspective of children’s rights believes that “childhood constitutes a coherent group or a state defined by identical needs and desires, regardless of class, ethnic, or racial differences [and is] based on an assumed identity of the biological and physiological attributes of children across the world (Fernando, Jude, 2001, p. 18). Since children across the world are deemed to have the same needs universalists believe that the same support and protection mechanisms can and should be applied to children world-wide.  As universalists have declared child soldiering an abuse of children’s rights and believe that all children require the same protection, the universalist agenda within international organizations and human rights groups is therefore to strictly regulate and punish the use of child soldiers. On the other hand, cultural relativists argue that childhood is “a social construction; its meaning is negotiated between different individuals and groups, often with conflicting interests. Thus, childhood is relative” (Fernando, Jude, 2001, p.18-19). Cultural relativists therefore critique the universalist perspective for ignoring the “social, cultural, and political diversity of the meaning of childhood and hence of children’s rights in different cultures” (Fernando, Jude, 2001, p. 18). They advocate for a better understanding of the local conditions and dynamics that define and shape the experience of the child soldier as well as his/her perception of these experiences. Indeed, one of the biggest critiques advanced by the cultural relativists is the fact that the “advocacy agenda has been articulated and pursued not only with little attention to what their humanitarian colleagues in the field know, but also without sufficient analysis of the political, social, economical, and military dynamics of particular conflicts” (Cohn, Ilene, 2004, p. 536).

Consequently, concerning the issue of child soldiers, Alexandre Vautravers (2009) explains that “the International Community must … chose between … pragmatism and cultural relativism, on one side, versus idealist and long-term objectives on the other” (p. 104). These contrasting perspectives not only influence the theoretical framing of this issue but also greatly influence the development and implementation of the DDR programs that are intended to meet the needs of child soldiers.

The universalist vs. cultural relativist debate of children’s rights in relation to child soldiers has most recently been brought forward by Ah-Jung Lee (2009) in her publication titled Understanding and Addressing the Phenomenon of ‘Child Soldiers’: The Gap between the Global Humanitarian Discourse and the Local Understandings and Experiences of Young People’s Military Recruitment. The author strongly advocates for a more culturally sensitive and nuanced understanding of the phenomenon of child soldiers in order for the international community to appropriately and effectively deal with this issue. This publication is indicative of the type of research dominating the discussion of child soldiers and their reintegration. While the literature on international conventions that regulate the use of child soldiers and the literature on the community level implementation of DDR programs from the international organizations’ perspective are thick and rich, the literature presenting the communities’ perspective is more limited, while the literature presenting the child soldiers’ perspective barely exists.

In an effort to contribute to this debate, the following questions need to be asked: What do the universalists identify as being the main problems and difficulties of current DDR programs for child soldiers? What do the cultural relativists identify as being the main problems and difficulties? What are the common concerns and points of contention? In order to answer these questions, the international definition of a child soldier and a description of DDR programs for child soldiers will be presented, followed by the problems and difficulties of DDR programs identified by the universalists and the cultural relativists, an analysis of these issues, a general critique of the literature, and suggestions for further research.

International Definition of a Child Soldier

The post-modern Western notion of childhood defines children as weak, vulnerable, irresponsible, and innocent in comparison to adults who are said to be strong, mature, intelligent and responsible for their actions (Rosen, David, 2007; Shepler, Susan, 2005). It is therefore generally agreed upon (from this perspective) that children should not engage in armed conflict. As a result, the debate over the definition of a child soldier at the international level has revolved primarily around the issue of age, that is, what age distinguishes a child from an adult? The implications of this debate pertain to responsibility and accountability for one’s actions, that is, at what age can one demonstrate agency of thought and action and therefore be responsible for those thoughts and actions? By seeking to distinguish children from adults based on agency and responsibility it is assumed that children are not responsible for their thoughts and actions while adults are in full control of the latter and can therefore be held accountable. Consequently, the post-modern Western notion of childhood as a time of innocence, inexperience and vulnerability is transposed to the issue of child soldiers through the development and implementation of international tools that define and regulate the use of child soldiers.

The main organizations involved in the development and adoption of these international tools are the United Nations (UN), the United Nations Children’s Fund (UNICEF), the Office of the Special Representative of Children and Armed Conflict (OSRCAC), International non-governmental organizations (INGO), such as Save the Children, and human rights groups, such as the Coalition Against the Use of Child Soldiers (CAUCS). As these organizations are all Western based and apply a rights-based approach to the problem, the post-modern Western notion of a child and of childhood guides the definition and regulation of child soldiers.

Although the 1949 Geneva Conventions were the first international conventions to “specifically provide for children in situations of armed conflict” (Kuper, Jenny, 2000, p. 33), it is the 1977 Additional Protocols I and II that specifically deal with the issue of child soldiers. Protocol Additional I applies to interstate wars and sets the minimum age of participation in armed conflict at fifteen. Although it encourages state parties to prioritize the recruitment of older children first (15 to 18 year olds), it does allow for the “voluntary enrolment” of children under the age of fifteen (Kuper, Jenny, 2000; Rosen, David, 2007, p. 300). As for Protocol Additional II, it applies to intrastate wars and presents a “comprehensive ban on the use of any person under 15 years of age as a child soldier in all civil wars and insurgencies other than wars of national liberation” (Rosen, David, 2007, p. 301). In other words, children under the age of 15 can voluntary participate in interstate conflicts and national liberation wars but cannot participate in intrastate conflicts or civil wars and insurgencies. According to David Rosen (2007), the distinction between the two types of conflicts is a reflection of the signatories of the Protocols which, at the time, included governments that had benefited from the use of child soldiers in their own anti-colonial and national liberation struggles and sought to protect their access to this resource while denying it to potential future insurgencies or civil wars against their own governments.

Twelve years later, the 1989 UN Convention on the Rights of the Child (CRC) became the most comprehensive international convention on children’s rights and defined a child as being a person under the age of eighteen. However, for child soldiers, the cut off age of 15 remains, with a comprehensive ban on the voluntary participation of any person under the age of 15, regardless of the type of conflict (CRC 1989 [article 38]; de Berry, Jo, 2001; Francis, David, 2007; Kuper, Jenny, 2000). Although the CRC is internationally lauded as being the most comprehensive tool for the recognition and respect of children’s rights and is the most ratified convention in history, many parties involved in the drafting of the Convention, such as UNICEF and a variety of human rights and children’s rights groups, strongly advocated for a comprehensive ban of any person under the age of 18, calling for a “straight-18” approach (Lee, Ah-Jung, 2009; Rosen, David, 2007). As a result, the 1997 Cape Town Principles, led by UNICEF, the 1999 African Charter on the Rights and Welfare of the Child, the 1999 International Labour Organisation’s Convention on the Worst Forms of Child Labour (which defines child soldiering as one of the worst forms of child labour) and the 2000 Optional Protocol to the CRC on the Involvement of Children in Armed Conflict set the age of 18 as the minimum age of participation in armed conflict and do not recognize any voluntary recruitment under the age of eighteen (Francis, David, 2007; Rosen, David, 2007). However, it is important to note that the 1998 Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court, which defines the recruitment and use of child soldiers as a war crime in both interstate and intrastate wars, uses the age of 15 as the cut-off mark for participation in armed conflict (Cohn, Ilene, 2004; Francis, David, 2007; Kargbo, Franklyn, 2004; Rosen, David, 2007; Singer, Peter, 2004).

As we can see from these international tools, children under the age of 15 or 18 cannot participate in armed conflict, whether voluntarily or forcibly, and a blanket definition of a “child” based strictly on age is applied internationally. It is therefore within this framework that DDR programs are designed for child soldiers.

DDR Programs for Child Soldiers

DDR programs for ex-combatants play a crucial role in the transition to peace once a peace accord has been signed between the warring parties. The objective of DDR is to enable a safe and peaceful transition from military to civilian life by disarming ex-combatants, demobilizing them and helping them to reintegrate into their communities in order to pursue a civilian life or to integrate them into a new national army or police force (UN DDR Resource Centre, n.d.). The DDR process for child soldiers is different than the process for adult ex-combatants, because, according to the UN DDR Resource Centre, “children cannot be legally recruited, …[and] measures that aim to prevent their recruitment, or that attempt to reintegrate them into their communities, should not be viewed as a routine component of DDR, but as an attempt to prevent or redress a violation of children’s human rights” (UN DDR Resource Centre, n.d.). As a result, in order to protect child soldiers’ rights and to meet child soldiers’ special needs, the World Banks sets the following guidelines for DDR programs: “child soldiers must be separated from military authority and protected through the establishment of special reception centres during demobilization, as long as their stay prior to being reunited with their families and communities is as short as possible” (Knight, Mark, et al., 2004, p. 507). Furthermore, reintegration programs “should emphasize three key components: family reunification, psychological support and education, and economic opportunity” (Knight, Mark, et al., 2004, p. 503).

Child protection personnel, usually directed by UNICEF, will first separate the children from the adults at disarmament and demobilization sites. The objective of the separation is to break up the relationship of authority and the links of control between the child soldiers and their commanders and to ensure that they are offered the reintegration packages developed for children (Williamson, John, 2006). The two main differences between the adult and child reintegration packages are that adults receive a cash allowance on site and very little assistance with longer-term reintegration (Williamson, John, 2006). Children, as per the World Bank guidelines, are reinserted and reintegrated through local Interim Care Centres (ICC) that are set up, paid for and run by INGOs, such as UNICEF and Save the Children, in partnership with local NGOs (Knudsen, Christine, 2004; The Save the Children Fund, 2007; Wessells, Michael, 2004; Williamson, John, 2006). Children will generally spend 2 weeks to 6 months in ICCs and will receive a wide range of services that will vary according to the needs of the children and the means of the NGOs (Boothby, Neil, et al., 2006; The Save the Children Fund, 2007; Wessells, Michael, 2004; Williamson, John, 2006; Zack-Williams, Tunde, 2006). The primary services include food, clothing and medical treatment. Although child soldiers can suffer from a great variety of illnesses, some of the more pressing medical issues they generally face are malnutrition, open or infected wounds, STDs and for some, drug addiction. Once their condition has stabilized, children can then be either slowly reintegrated into a local school or, if they are older and have been out of school for many years, they can take part in an education program tailored to focus on basic reading, writing and mathematical skills (Boothby, Neil, et al., 2006; The Save the Children Fund, 2007; Wessells, Michael, 2004; Williamson, John, 2006; Zack-Williams, Tunde, 2006). Vocational and skills training programs may also be offered and include vocations such as hairdressing, radio and bicycle repair, carpentry, mechanics and sewing, etc. ICCs also offer psychosocial support activities, which can include art, singing and dancing, sports, play, storytelling, and group discussions (Boothby, Neil, et al., 2006; The Save the Children Fund, 2007; Wessells, Michael, 2004; Williamson, John, 2006; Zack-Williams, Tunde, 2006). Finally, ICCs are responsible for tracing the families and communities of child soldiers and preparing them for the return of the child. Once the family and community have been traced, a small awareness and sensitization campaign will take place in order to inform the family and community on both the types of experiences that the children lived as soldiers and their future needs as they transition to a civilian life (The Save the Children Fund, 2007). These campaigns will also introduce the notion of –and promote– children’s rights. In many cultures, traditional cleansing rituals are required in order for the child to be accepted into the community and ICCs will generally pay for, and help organize, these rituals (Williamson, John, 2006). Once a child has been reintegrated into the community, a follow-up service is offered and an ICC staff will visit the family and help them solve the difficulties they may be facing. Some of these difficulties can include aggression and violence on the part of child, symptoms of post-traumatic stress, disobedience, rejection from community activities, etc.

Academics have recently begun studying the long-term impacts of child soldier DDR programs and identifying “lessons-learned” (Stark, Lindsay, et al., 2008; Wessells, Michael, 2004; ibid, 2006). The great majority of studies were done in Mozambique (Boothby, Neil, et al., 2006; Honwana, Alcinda, 2007), Sierra Leone (Cohn, Ilene, 2004; Kostelny, Kathleen, 2004; Williamson, John, 2006; Zack-Williams,Tunde, 2006) and Uganda (Chrobok, Vera, et al., 2008; McKay, Susan, 2004).

DDR Programs from the Perspective of Universalists: A Critical Review of “Best Practices”

After the 10^th anniversary of the Cape Town Principles in 2007, Lindsay Stark et al. (2008)  published a review of the literature on child soldiers critically examining the “best practices” that had evolved over the past 10 years. The authors conclude that there is an important lack of “systematic data” to support many of the “lessons-learned” and “best practices” that are being reported by academics studying DDR programs (Stark, Lindsay, et al., 2008, p. 540). Consequently, the following issues presented are to be reviewed with this caveat in mind.

A variety of studies have concluded that the key to a successful DDR process is family and community acceptance and reconciliation (Stark, Lindsay, et al., 2008) and that successful practices that enhance acceptance and reconciliation are community sensitization (Boothby, Neil, et al., 2006; Stark, Lindsay, et al., 2008; Williamson, John, 2006), traditional cleansing rituals (Boothby, Neil, et al., 2006; Honwana, Alcinda, 2007; Stark, Lindsay, et al., 2008; Wessells, Michael, 2004; Williamson, John, 2006), and psycho-social support that is reflective of local social and cultural practices. Sensitization and awareness campaigns are important in helping local communities better understand the conditions in which child soldiers lived. Because child soldiers are often at the forefront of armed battles taking place in villages –destroying crops, livelihoods and causing massive displacements– local communities can have difficulty understanding the extent to which some child soldiers were themselves brutalized and forced to commit heinous acts of violence and human rights abuses. Sensitization campaigns are therefore a necessary first step towards reconciliation. Once the community better understands the experiences of child soldiers, traditional cleansing rituals can help child soldiers reconnect with their communities. By symbolically cleansing past violent actions, such rituals can help child soldiers break away from their past and take on a new civilian identity by helping them to reconnect emotionally and culturally with their local community. This is especially important for child soldiers who identified their armed group as their family.

Another successful practice identified by academics and practitioners are the educational opportunities that are generally offered with DDR programs. However, further research has found that although the majority of children greatly benefit from access to education, some former child soldiers are not interested in continuing their education (Boothby, Neil, et al., 2006). Since child soldiers are being reintegrated into an economically strained and uncertain post-conflict society, many prefer not go to school but to start working immediately in order to survive. This is mostly the case for older children who have spent the majority of their lives with an armed group and who, as a result, are used to working and taking care of themselves. Although vocational training programs are an interesting option for these older children who want to work, research has found that in order to be successful, training programs must be based on a local market analysis that determines if the local post-conflict economy can absorb and sustain these new economic activities (Cohn, Ilene 2004; Stark, Lindsay, et al., 2008; Williamson, John, 2006). If not, there is a serious risk of further disillusionment and an attraction to lucrative criminal activities.

Another successful practice that is currently being critically re-examined is the use of ICCs. Although they are generally found to be a practical way of offering a variety of services to child soldiers and to monitor and support their reintegration into what is very often a fragile and shaken post-conflict community, some authors argue that the use of these centres can lead to dependence on the services offered if there is not enough funding to properly support longer term reintegration efforts (Cohn, Ilen, 2004; Stark, Lindsay, et al., 2008; Wessells, Michael, 2004). Furthermore, by identifying these children as ex-soldiers and by offering much needed services to only one fragment of the local population, ICCs can inadvertently create dangerous social tensions. Indeed, one of the main problems identified in the literature is the overwhelming amount of attention and support given to child soldiers to the detriment of other children who have also suffered throughout the conflict (Wessells, Michael, 2004).Many of these children struggling to survive in a post-conflict setting are in need of the same services offered to child soldiers: health, family tracing (as a result of displacement), access to education and vocational training, and psycho-social support. Labelling child soldiers and supporting them in isolation from the other children in a setting where the majority of children are in need of the same services can lead not only to stigmatization and jealously, which are counterproductive to reintegration, but can also lead to an increase in the recruitment of child soldiers as more children seek to have access to the services offered by the DDR programs (Boyden, Jo, 2003; Stark, Lindsay, et al., 2008;The Save the Children Fund, 2007;Wessells, Michael, 2004).

A third critical issue is the lack of research on the DDR process for girls and on the experience of girl soldiers in general. In some cases, girls may not be identified as soldiers by the fighting forces and therefore are not brought to participate in the DDR process. More research is needed on how to best identify these girls and how to reintegrate them into society. However, since being identified as a girl soldier in some contexts can lead to social stigmatization, exclusion and threats to their physical safety, some girls purposely avoid a formalized DDR process that would identify them as former soldiers (Kostelny, Kathleen, 2004; McKay, Susan, 2004). As a result, many girls ‘spontaneously demobilize’ and ‘anonymously’ reintegrate into their communities (Kostelny, Kathleen, 2004; McKay, Susan, 2004). Although the anonymity might benefit them in some ways, it also makes it much more difficult to identify their needs and to provide them with support, especially medical attention (as many suffer from STDs, infections and fistulas), and education and income generating opportunities. Furthermore, girls who have had children have more difficulty spontaneously demobilizing and anonymously reintegrating into their communities as they must identify the father of their children, thereby linking them to the fighting group (Kostelny, Kathleen, 2004; McKay, Susan, 2004). Consequently, some of these girls choose to stay in the fighting group as they know that reintegration into their community would be extremely difficult and threaten their survival (Kostelny, Kathleen, 2004; McKay, Susan, 2004).There is therefore a need for further research on how to appropriately reach out to these girls and provide them with the DDR services.

Finally, it has been argued that DDR programs need to take into account the difficulties inherent in a post-conflict setting, how these difficulties impact the reintegration of child soldiers, and the role of reintegration as part of larger peace building efforts. (Stark, Lindsay, et al., 2008). As Michael Wessells (2004) further explains:

Families were dispersed, most people were displaced, schools were closed, and livelihoods were disrupted. What does reintegration mean in this context? We have to think about transforming an entire system rather than plugging people back into what is there. We must create community structures and processes that embody nonviolent values, further economic stabilization, create new opportunities, build the capacity of government and civil authorities, provide services, and develop social capital at all levels. (p. 523-524)

DDR Programs from the Perspective of the Cultural Relativists

Cultural relativists challenge the three tenets of the post-modern Western notion of childhood and children’s rights within the context of child soldiers: 1) the use of age to differentiate children from adults, 2) the fundamental belief that children should not engage in armed conflict and 3) the vulnerability and lack of agency of children. It is through the critique of these three tenets that cultural relativists challenge DDR programs for child soldiers.

The use of age to differentiate children from adults is often irrelevant to the social-cultural context in which child soldiers live, regardless of whether or not the government of the country has ratified the CRC. In many non-Western countries rituals, initiations, marriage and childbearing are used as indicators of adulthood, rather than age (Francis, David, 2007; Gallagher, Michael, 2002; Lee, Ah-Jung, 2009). This has a direct impact on DDR programs which seek to isolate child soldiers from adult soldiers based strictly on age, as some child soldiers may not identify themselves as children and some communities into which they are being reintegrated may also not identify them as children (Francis, David, 2007; Lee, Ah-Jung, 2009). This is especially true for child soldiers who are married or have had children themselves during the conflict and would prefer to have access to the adult DDR packages rather than the child DDR packages in order to support their family. Neil Boothby et al. (2006) have reported incidences where some children “resisted this and insisted that they were adults” (p.188) and where some adolescents “wanted to be demobilized as adults so they could receive direct cash assistance and claimed to be above the age of 17” (p. 193).

As for the fundamental belief that children should not engage in armed conflict, cultural relativists provide a variety of examples of cultures and societies where engaging in armed conflict can either be a rite of transition to adulthood (Gallagher, Michael, 2002) or can be promoted and supported by the local community (Lee, Ah-Jung, 2009).Others argue that, in a context of a civil conflict, many children and youth voluntarily join armed groups out of concern for their social well-being and security. For example, Jo de Berry (2001) details the experience of young boys and men in Teso, Uganda and the reasons why they join the UPA:

The Karamojong raiding saw the number of cattle in Teso fall from about 1 million to just 10,000 by 1991. This was a loss with deep emotional resonance for it represented the loss of wealth, security, and a future. The loss of cattle proved one of the main rallying cries for the UPA military leadership as they sought recruits. It was a lament keenly felt by young boys and men who know that without cattle they could not hope for marriage, a properly established home, rightfully held children, and the full requirements of what it is to be a mature man in Teso social life. They joined the UPA in anger and rebellion against their loss. They thus fought in the context of the state’s failure to protect them from cattle raiding and in the context of how that loss felt to them in terms of their understanding of how maturity and masculinity is constituted in their society. (p. 101)

Although this example clearly demonstrates strong social, cultural and economic factors that led to children taking up arms, the author warns against simply interpreting this example to mean that “being a child fighter had cultural backing” (p. 101). Instead, the author argues that “it is more helpful to see taking up arms and participating in hostilities as embedded in the social relations and priorities of a particular time and place” (p. 101). Furthermore, many child soldiers also join in search of the power, authority and regular income that a gun can provide in the chaos of a civil conflict (Badjoko, Lucien, et al., 2005; Beah, Ishmael, 2007; Lee, Ah-Jung, 2009). Under these circumstances, some children may not wish to demobilize as their engagement with the armed group has brought them social prestige, safety, authority or income (Badjoko, Lucien, et al., 2005; Beah, Ishmael, 2007; Wessells, Michael, 2000). As a result, some do not wish to return to a subservient role in society (Lee, Ah-Jung, 2009). This is especially the case for girl child soldiers who were successful commanders and held important positions of authority (Stark, Lindsay, et al., 2008). Consequently, DDR programs that are mandated to demobilize and reintegrate every child may be forcing some to do so against their will. Also, by making it illegal for children to be part of armed forces, child soldiers are not allowed to become part of the new army or police force, thereby taking away what is very often their only marketable skill in a strained post-conflict economy. Many, in fact, become mercenaries and fight in other regional wars (Lee, Ah-Jung, 2009), thereby contributing to the destabilization of other countries and regions. By not reintegrating these youth in the national army or forces, peace building efforts in the region may be seriously compromised.

The final critique made by the cultural relativists is that the universalist perspective does not recognize the agency of children and youth in a conflict and post-conflict setting, thereby ensuring that child soldiers cannot be held accountable for their crimes and cannot be punished. This perspective has a direct impact on DDR programs as they seek to promote reconciliation and reintegration. Indeed, many communities want to hold child soldiers accountable for their crimes and believe that rights must be counterbalanced with responsibilities (Shepler, Susan, 2005).

An example from Sierra Leone demonstrates how communities can attribute agency and responsibility to child soldiers while DDR programs promote a different perspective. Following the Lomé peace agreement, a separate DDR process was established for child soldiers. Although this was greatly promoted by the international community, what actually occurred on the ground indicates the extent to which local communities attributed agency to the child soldiers. Child soldiers who had fought with the Civil Defence Forces were hailed as heroes and not innocent victims manipulated by adults into fighting for their country. As a result, they were accepted by and reintegrated into the communities and many did not receive DDR benefits as they were not deemed to be ‘in need of help’ by the local community. However, the reintegration of the rebel fighters from Revolutionary United Front (RUF) proved to be much more difficult. The communities did not wish to reintegrate them as they considered them to be the instigators of violence and civil unrest. As a result, INGOs who distributed DDR benefits took a more ‘hands on’ approach and implemented more activities in order to encourage the communities to accept and reintegrate the RUF fighters (Williamson, John, 2006). They engaged in community sensitization campaigns to encourage communities to reconcile with and reintegrate these fighters, often using economic incentives in the form of funding for community schools while promoting the right to reintegration and the notion of victimhood over agency and responsibility (Shepler, Susan, 2005). Although it could be argued that this was the adult communities’ perspective and may not accurately represent the lived experiences of child soldiers– as many children were indeed abducted and forced into fighting and committing gross human rights abuses against their will– there is evidence of manipulation of the child soldier and children’s rights discourse by child soldiers themselves, which strongly reflects agency and responsibility:

Among their friends and fellow soldiers, they try to maintain the status that being part of the fighting gives them. They wear combat clothes and sunglasses and brag about firing rocket-propelled grenade launchers. With NGOs they adopt the persona of the traumatized innocent, usually requesting aid in furthering their education. With community members and in school they act like normal kids, never mentioning the past. Thus their “reintegration” is achieved in social practice across a variety of contexts using a variety of strategically adopted identities. (Shepler, Susan, 2005, p. 199)

Although many children and youth were forced and manipulated while others were not, this citation demonstrates the extent to which it is extremely difficult to draw the line between what is considered manipulated behaviour and what is considered ‘free will’ as children navigate through their various social environments and adapt accordingly, whether it be as part of an armed group, at home with their families or in their communities. Whether the acts of violence were the result of manipulation, agency, or more realistically, a mix of both, the situation in Sierra Leone demonstrates how the issue of victimhood promoted by the universalist perspective is one of great contention for the local communities who have suffered tremendously and are, in some ways forced to reintegrate child soldiers in order to have access to much needed funding.

Moving the Debate Forward

As the arguments presented from both perspectives demonstrate, DDR programs are faced with complex social, cultural, and practical difficulties that range from developing the ‘right formula of services’ for child soldiers, to identifying who is a child soldier in need of support and who is not. However, the debate over, and criticism of, DDR aid provided to child soldiers is currently set up as an impasse between those who advocate for universal rights-based programming and those who criticise the very foundations and assumptions of that programming. Although universalists and cultural relativists both want to serve the best interests of the child, their perspectives are dichotomized. Consequently, we are left with the following fundamental questions: Who is a child soldier? Who is in need of DDR support? And what should DDR programming for child soldiers be comprised of?

In an effort to move the debate forward, Jason Hart (2006) proposes a revision of our understanding of the universal rights-based approach:

At the conceptual level, there is a need to move beyond sterile debate around universalism versus cultural relativism in order to engage more fully with the realities of children’s lives, which are inevitably shaped by ideas, practices, and power relations that are both local and global. It is essential to recognize that the vision of childhood manifest in the CRC may have only limited relevance for children who lack the social, economic, and political wherewithal to actualize this vision. Instead, they are faced with a set of realities that humanitarians, working in narrow accordance with a “rights-based approach”, are currently ill-equipped to comprehend, let alone address. (p. 223)

Indeed, it is a serious problem if the rights-based approach set up to protect and defend against various abuses is actually an obstacle to the proper understanding of the nature and circumstances of these abuses, and therefore an obstacle to the development and implementation of a proper solution or protection mechanism. As a result, DDR programs need to engage in a more cultural relativist approach, not simply to justify or explain why children are fighting, as the debate very often reverts to, but to properly understand the local conditions and factors that will determine what is considered to be a successful demobilization and reintegration according to the child and to the local community. However, as the international community may have difficulty properly understanding the local cultural and social dynamics that shape the DDR of child soldiers, more effort should also be directed towards preventing the global conditions that greatly influence armed conflicts to begin with, and this is where the international community can play a concrete role, rather than re-hashing what can sometimes be a philosophical debate:

Through regulation, fighting organized crime and trafficking, partnership, nation-building assistance, and development, we must make the world safer and more responsible. (Vautravers, Alexandre, 2009, p. 107)

There is a strong need to refocus on the actual causes of the fighting in order to better understand how to demobilize and reintegrate child soldiers. Although, as the cultural relativists have argued and demonstrated, children and youth may want to engage in armed conflict and fight for a certain cause and be supported by their families and communities for doing so, this may not be their priority:

If one talks with young people who are struggling to earn a living, who do not have a positive role in society, who wonder whether they will ever be able to marry, or whether they will be attacked by their communities [all reasons generally recognized as leading towards voluntary recruitment in armed conflict], one learns that the current living conditions pose the greatest stresses. (Wessells, Michael, 2004, p. 517)

Indeed, the example of the young Ugandan fighters described above (de Berry, Jo, 2001) illustrates this point. The youth wanted to fight for their cause and the community supported them and was proud of them for defending their cause. However, their priority was not whether they should engage in armed combat or not, their priority was to regain access to their cattle in order to be able to make a living and to be socially respected. In other words, from the perspective of the youth who voluntarily join armed groups, the problem is not whether they should engage in armed combat prior to a certain age or whether local social and cultural factors justify or not their engagement in armed conflict, the problem for them lies in the very reasons that drive the conflict in the first place. We must remember that the number one cause of child soldiers is conflict.  Although the cultural relativists have brought forward an important perspective on this issue, by focusing entirely on the local and cultural point of view the focus shifts away from the actual causes of the conflict, which represents the major concern for the youth involved in the conflict. Consequently, a better understanding of these causes, along with their local and global influences, is necessary for the DDR of child soldiers and in the end will go a long way in promoting and respecting their fundamental human rights.

In order for a more complete picture of a complex reality to emerge, experts from various fields must come together, which is presently not the case:

The [rights-based] movement does not seem to be building bridges to the political scientists, the economists, the bankers, and the corporate actors, who either have influence in or understanding of what is driving a particular conflict or a particular warring party. (Cohn, Ilene, 2004, p. 537)

Indeed, the success of a DDR program for child soldiers will be determined by its understanding of, respect for, and adaptability to local factors and conditions. In order to reach out to the experts, local and global, who have a better understanding of the complexity of the local dynamics of a conflict and the people affected, Jude Fernando (2001) believes that:

What is required today is a constructive dialogue on the issue of childhood and children’s rights that does not fall into the twin traps of relativism and universalism, that does not ignore the heterogeneity of children’s lives or obscure the commonality of ways in which economic and political forces in an increasingly unstable and polarized world have affected the lives and experiences of these children. (p. 20)

Finally, child soldiers themselves need to be consulted during the development phase of the DDR program, and not simply presented with a pre-determined menu of options. As the research from both perspectives demonstrated above, there is very little information on the opinions of child soldiers themselves. In the citation provided by Neil Boothby et al. (2006), which reports the universalist observation of child soldiers claiming to be older than 17 years old and requesting the cash handouts rather than the child soldier package, the authors do not provide any information as to why this might be. Also, with the citation provided by Susan Shepler (2005) regarding the cultural relativist observation about child soldiers adapting their behaviour to their context, that is behaving as ‘soldiers’ with their ex-child soldier friends, behaving as ‘normal’ children in school and behaving as ‘victims in need of help’ with NGOs, the author does not provide any information from the children themselves that might help to explain and better understand this behaviour observation and how it might impact DDR programs. As the experiences of child soldiers can vary tremendously from one child to the next, DDR programs need to be more sensitive to this complexity. However, in order to do so, much more research highlighting the perspective of child soldiers themselves is needed. Unfortunately, this may be extremely difficult to do in a post-conflict setting that is in the midst of a complex and shifting redefinition of its social fabric, social roles and local power dynamics, with some parties vying for change and others vying to maintain the status quo. It is therefore extremely important for DDR program implementers and children’s rights advocates to understand the extent to which their own programming is a form of social engineering, and that it represents but one factor in a complex and multi-faceted transition period where there is a lot at stake, for the community and for the child soldiers themselves.

Conclusion

By contextualizing a review of the literature on DDR programs for child soldiers within the framework of the philosophical debate taking place between the universal rights-based approach and the cultural relativist approach to humanitarian and development work, gaps in the current research can be identified. The universal rights-based approach to demobilization and reintegration fails to take into account important social, cultural and personal influences that lead children to participate in armed conflicts in the first place and which greatly influence if, how and when the children will seek to disarm and reintegrate into civilian life. On the other hand, the cultural relativists narrow focus on the social and cultural factors that impact children’s participation in armed conflict fails to recognize the important socio-economic causes of the conflict, which in return greatly shape the environment into which child soldiers are to be reintegrated.

As child soldiers are affected by global and local influences, both as soldiers and as individuals transitioning to a new civilian life, there is an important need to move away from the current impasse of the two dichotomized perspectives. In order to do so, both sides need to shift their focus and adapt to the local environment. This can be done by having experts from different disciplines come together and paint a more realistic picture of the conflict situation and provide a better understanding of the complex causes of conflict as well as the dynamics of reconstruction of post-conflict societies. Finally, more research on the perspective of the child soldiers themselves is needed in order to better understand how ex-child soldiers navigate through the post-conflict society and how they would like to be reintegrated.

Lysanne Rivard is a PhD Student in the Faculty of Education, Department of Integrated Studies in Education at McGill University.

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Mediation has been employed as a conflict resolution tool for centuries on both national and international levels. One of the earliest occurrences of mediation was recorded in Mesopotamia approximately four thousand years ago and mediation is also referred to in the Old Testament of the Bible. In addition, the importance of mediation has also been highlighted in literature, in Homer’s Iliad (750 B.C.) and Sophocles’ Ajax (500 B.C.).[1] Mediation has been recognised for many years as an efficient method of alternative dispute resolution in various fields of law, such as family law and commercial law.  However, since the end of the Cold War, mediation has also been employed in an attempt to resolve armed conflicts and international crises [2] (hereafter referred to as international peace mediation) and it has recently become an increasingly debated topic in academic and professional circles. [3]

However, there exist different conceptions of international peace mediation in both academic and professional fields, evidenced by diverging definitions and terminology within academic circles and disciplines and by codes of conduct and guidelines of varying standards and requirements within professional settings. These codes of conduct and guidelines are drawn up by various national and international institutions and establish rules of engagement for mediators. They are intended to regulate and are gradually ‘professionalising’ the field of international peace mediation. [4] However, rigid rules set out within these codes of conduct may potentially restrict the approach and strategies of the mediator and certain provisions pertaining to human rights and international law contained within these documents may also deter conflicting parties from engaging a mediator bound by such provisions.

This paper seeks to investigate the disparity between academic research on international conflict mediation, the provisions set out in various codes of conduct for mediators and the actual practice of international conflict mediation by mediators in order to establish whether existing codes of conduct adequately reflect current mediation practice.

Section One deals briefly with the background of mediation and seeks to highlight the various definitions that exist within the field of international peace mediation. The differing categories of mediation are also set out in this section, as is the framework surrounding Track I and Track II mediation. Section Two deals with codes of conduct established for mediators by different mediation bodies in order to examine existing guidelines and Section Three takes a closer look at provisions regarding neutrality, impartiality and bias to assess whether or not these codes of conduct may potentially limit or restrict the mediator. Section Four examines the challenges facing mediators when it comes to including transitional justice mechanisms in final drafts of peace agreements.  Section Five outlines some of the findings from empirical research on international peace mediation and Section Six concludes with some final observations and recommendations. A wide range of literature within the fields of both law and peace studies have been consulted in the research for this article, along with data gathered from questionnaires and semi-structured interviews with academics and practitioners of mediation, undertaken as part of a project carried out in the School of Law and Government, Dublin City University in 2008-2009. These questionnaires were carried out on the basis of anonymity.

Background to mediation

As mediation is an age-old conflict resolution tool and is used in multiple fields, including industrial relations, civil and criminal litigation, family law and international relations, the definition therefore varies from discipline to discipline. There are many definitions of ‘mediation’ contained within guidelines for mediators, codes of conduct and academic literature.[5] The European Code of Conduct was drawn up by the European Commission Justice Directorate in 2004 following the EU Green Paper on Alternative Dispute Resolution. Many  areas of mediation including competence, advertising, impartiality and fees are covered, and the Code of Conduct is intended to be applicable to mediation in any context. Within this code, mediation is defined as,

“[a]ny process where two or more parties agree to the appointment of a third party [...] to help the parties to solve a dispute by reaching an agreement without adjudication and regardless of how that process may be called or commonly referred to in each Member State.” [6]

The International Mediator’s Institute is a non-profit organisation that seeks to improve the quality of mediation and to promote mediation as a conflict resolution tool. Their definition of mediation is quite similar to that of the European Code of Conduct, viewing mediation as a voluntary and non-coercive form of conflict management involving a third party, and reads as follows,

“a process where two or more parties appoint a third-party
neutral (“Mediator”) to help them in a non-binding dialog to resolve a dispute
and/or to conclude the terms of an agreement.”

The Centre for Effective Dispute Resolution (CEDR) defines mediation as “a flexible process conducted confidentially in which a neutral person actively assists parties in working towards a negotiated agreement of a dispute or difference, with the parties in ultimate control of the decision to settle and the terms of the resolution.” [7] This is quite a more prescriptive definition of mediation, asserting that the mediator must remain neutral and that he or she must also “actively” assist the conflicting parties. The definition of mediation proffered by the European Code of Conduct also stated that the mediator is a “neutral” third party.  However, these qualifiers depend largely on the type of mediation in question, as outlined below. The issue of neutrality and impartiality is also widely debated and one of the most frequently discussed in terms of mediation; should a mediator  remain neutral and  impartial, and what is meant by these concepts specifically? These questions are addressed in greater detail in section three.Kleiboer, in his article, loosely defines international mediation as “a form of conflict management in which a third party assists two or more contending parties to find a solution without resorting to force,” [8] while Herrberg, the
Senior Mediation Advisor with Crisis Management Initiative (CMI),  defines it as “a voluntary and confidential method of a structured process, where one or more impartial third parties assist conflict parties to reach a mutually satisfactory solution. The mediator provides a framework, but makes no substantial suggestions or decisions in the case.” [9] Again, Herrberg’s definition assumes that the mediator should and shall remain impartial. Moore also places such limitations, defining mediation as “the intervention into a dispute or negotiation by an acceptable, impartial and neutral third party who has no authoritative decision-making power.” [10] However, the definition of mediation depends largely on the type of mediation in question, as discussed below. Herrberg herself says that her definition is based on “the so-called interest-based, facilitative approach” to mediation. [11] The definitions contained in the codes of conduct are quite general, whereas the academic definitions assume impartiality on the part of the mediator and the absence of or prohibition on leverage or coercion.

Categories of Mediation – Law

As established above, mediation is researched and studied across many fields of social science. Compared to peace studies, the legal paradigm offers a more concrete structure of  analysis and categorisation. There are a number of mediation styles within the legal framework of conflict mediation, including facilitative mediation, evaluative ediation and transformative mediation.

Facilitative Mediation

Facilitative mediation is the original and first identified mediation style.  This mediation style provides a structure to ensure that parties reach a mutually acceptable settlement.  The role of the mediator as an impartial third party is to assist the parties in reaching this agreement.  The mediator does not suggest a suitable outcome to the parties. Facilitative mediation is what is commonly understood to be mediation.  The significant features of facilitative mediation therefore are that it is consensual and voluntary.  As MacFarlane, an academic, explains, the aim of this particular style of mediation is to:

“…facilitate the development of consensual solutions by the disputing parties…”[12]

Facilitative mediation can foster communication between the disputing parties. [13] Palmer and Roberts explain that facilitative mediators have a minimal role in the mediation process. [14] The role of the facilitative mediator is seen as encouraging, and improving, communication between the disputing parties to help them reach an acceptable settlement.[15] Facilitative mediation appreciates that the parties are competent of negotiating the dispute more effectively themselves.  This is due to their unique insight into, and understanding of, the situation. [16] The parties can then collaborate to solve the problem in a manner that will address their own particular needs and interests. [17] Thus, the parties can be creative in determining a suitable outcome that, as some commentators claim, allows for a ‘win-win’ solution to the dispute. [18] The Centre for Humanitarian Dialogue (HDC) has adopted a facilitative approach in mediation processes in a number of conflicts. This is clear from its activity in the Central African Republic, where it was responsible for chairing a meeting between all interested parties in the first phase of the All-Inclusive Political Dialogue Process for national reconciliation. The HDC’s involvement in the AU-UN Darfur mediation process was also one of facilitative mediation as it hosted meetings to facilitate dialogue between the Sudanese Government, opposition movements and other actors.  The organisation also acted as a facilitative mediator in Timor-Leste, where its functions were to oversee the conduct of the meetings, including the preparation of agendas, maintain records of the meetings, monitor and report on progress of the process.  In each of these cases, the mediator was required to remain neutral and impartial. This allowed for the beginning of a dialogue process between al parties, which had previously been difficult or impossible.

Evaluative Mediation

This style of mediation was first categorised in academic research by Riskin.  Riskin acknowledges that with evaluative mediation the mediator has a much greater level of participation, and interaction in the process to ensure that the disputing parties reach a settlement.  Unlike facilitative mediation, where the mediator acts as an impartial third party whose role, in theory at least, is not to influence the mediation process or outcome in any way, evaluative mediation sees the mediator being more involved with the process and the outcome. As Riskin explains, the assumption within evaluative mediation is that the parties are dependent upon the mediator to provide guidance regarding their circumstances and possible ways of resolving the dispute. [19] Palmer and Roberts explain that the mediator will evaluate the merits of the respective parties’ position. [20]

The main strategy of the evaluative mediator is to help the parties appreciate the relative strengths and weaknesses of their respective positions. [21] On this basis, the mediator will then put forward suggestions as to how the dispute can be resolved.  This may include details of a settlement. [22] Riskin lists some of the other techniques employed by the evaluative mediator. These include persuading the parties to accept a settlement proposal, proposing “position-based compromise agreements”, and trying to persuade the parties to accept the mediator’s assessment of the merits of each party’s claim. [23] Emphasis will be placed upon full participation of all relevant parties during the mediation process.  Opportunities will be available for parties to discuss settlements. [24] Evaluative mediators will ask the parties about their “situations, plans, needs and interests”. [25]

That the mediator focuses on the underlying interests as the goal of mediation distinguishes evaluative mediation from facilitative mediation.  The mediator may, using evaluative techniques, suggest settlement options other than compensation.  Riskin claims that the evaluative mediator will provide the parties with “predictions, assessments and recommendations”, with emphasis on those “options that address underlying interests”. [26] Academics, Folger and Bush identify this type of mediation as the “problem-solving approach”, whereby the mediator has a very involved role in directing the parties towards settlement. [27] In addition, this type of mediation can deliver options which accommodate and address the needs and interests of the parties. [28] This type of evaluative mediation was employed by Martti Ahtisaari, former president of Finland and Chairperson of CMI, in the mediation of the Memorandum of Understanding between the GAM and the Indonesian Government in 2005. Riskin describes one of the distinctive features of the evaluative mediator as being able to persuade the parties to accept the mediator’s assessment of the respective party’s claim.  This was the case with Ahtisaari who was very active in “persuading the GAM to explore ‘a narrow opening in the autonomy clause’…to encourage the movement to bend to the government’s position…” [29]

George Mitchell’s style in Northern Ireland could also be classified as evaluative, although his approach may have been regarded as facilitative at the beginning of the process. The leaders of Sinn Féin and the Ulster Unionist Party did not have any face-to-face bilateral meeting before the Good Friday Agreement was reached, thus illustrating Mitchell’s role as a facilitator of dialogue.  However Mitchell also went beyond this role, when he actively sought to bend the positions of political parties to what he regarded as the only achievable agreement, and intervened directly with the parties.

Transformative Mediation

Folger and Bush presented a fourth type of mediation, namely ‘transformative mediation’ in more recent times. [30] This approach is based on the idea that mediation has the “potential to generate transformative effects, and that these effects are highly valuable for the parties and for society.” [31] Transformative mediation stresses the concepts of empowerment and recognition. Empowerment refers to enabling the parties to understand the variety of options available to them and allowing them to realise that there are choices to be made and that they have control over which choices are made. [32] Mediators also try and get each party to see things from the other party’s perspective so that they may work towards changing their approach to the mediation process to accommodate the other party’s perspective. [33] Folger and Bush point out that when empowerment and recognition are implemented on each side, “the party experiences a greater sense of self worth, security, self determination and autonomy.” [34] Herrberg refers to this type of mediation as “transformative, long-term mediation” and points out that a number of mediators can intervene in this kind of process over a longer period of time, and mediation can be carried out on both formal and informal levels. [35] An example of a transformative approach can be seen in former US President Jimmy Carter’s initial approach to mediating between Israel and Egypt during the Camp David Accords in 1978, when he stated: “My aim was to have Israelis and Egyptians understand and accept the compatibility of many of their goals and the
advantages to both nations in resolving their differences.” [36]

Categories of Mediation – Peace Studies

The study of mediation is newer to the field of peace studies than to the field of legal studies. International conflict mediation is generally broken down into three categories in academic peace studies research, with Bercovitch referring to the three types as communication-facilitation strategies; procedural strategies and directive strategies. However, within peace studies generally, different labels are used for similar processes, highlighting a lack of cohesion in the literature and research on international conflict mediation. The various  ‘categories’ of mediation determine the mediator’s approach to the mediation process.

Communication-facilitation

‘Communication-facilitation’ sees the mediator as a passive facilitator of communication and information on the low end of the intervention spectrum. [37] This type of mediation is also referred to as “reflective mediation” by Kressel and the mediator is referred to as “communicator” by other academics Touval and Zartman. [38] Herrberg refers to “interest-based, problem-solving mediation”, whereby the mediator promotes ownership of the process by the conflicting parties. [39] The aim of this type of mediation is to promote cooperation between conflicting parties and to enable enhanced communication and information sharing.  When compared to the categories established by the legal paradigm, Bercovitch’s communication-facilitation can best be matched with facilitative mediation – the overarching goal is to facilitate information sharing between the
conflicting parties.

Procedural Strategies

‘Procedural strategies’ enable the mediator to exert some control over certain aspects of the mediation process, such as timing, agenda and the distribution of information. Kressel refers to this type of mediation as “nondirective mediation” and Touval and Zartman label the mediator as “formulator.”[40] Bercovitch points out that this type of mediation serves to minimise any disruption or confusion that may occur when two or more conflicting parties who have little experience of negotiating together meet to discuss possible solutions to their conflict.[41] The idea of ‘procedural strategies’ can best be seen in the ‘evaluative mediation’ category when comparing peace studies literature with that of legal studies.

Directive Strategies

Directive strategies see the mediator having a lot more influence over the mediation process than the previous two strategies. The mediator actively strives to shape the content and outcome of the final peace agreement through the use of ‘carrot and sticks’ and by offering each party in conflict incentives, promises of support, or threats of diplomatic sanctions.”[42] This type of mediation is referred to as “directive mediation” by Kressel and the mediator is referred to as the “manipulator” by Touval and Zartman. [43] Bercovitch highlights the fact that such a strategy allows the mediator to potentially break a cycle of violent conflict by altering the factors which influence the parties’ decision making process. Herrberg refers to this type of mediation as “power-based, deal brokering mediation”, and also uses the carrots and sticks idea to highlight the power a mediator can exert over a mediation process. However, Herrberg points out that this type of mediation is not always accepted by parties and may lead to counterproductive results. [44]

Folger and Bush also discuss the other three types of mediation, however, once again they use different terminology. Bercovitch’s communication-facilitation strategy is the “satisfaction story”; the procedural strategy is the “social justice” approach and the directive strategy is referred to as the “oppression story.” While Bercovitch highlights advantages in directive mediation, Folger and Bush refer to it as the oppression story, contending that mediation “has become an instrument for the powerful to take advantage of the weak in society.” [45]

The Importance of Ripeness

Procedural and directive strategies work best when the moment is “ripe,” as the mediator has more leverage over the parties due to the fact that it is in their best interest to resolve the conflict as soon as possible. Zartman posits that a “ripe” moment in conflict logically occurs between the stages of escalation and negotiation, as escalation serves to increase conflict while negotiation seeks to decrease and ultimately end conflict.  Zartman’s theory of “ripeness” focuses on the timing of resolution efforts and stipulates that certain factors must exist for a “ripe” moment to be created and exploited. The two most important factors are the existence of a perceived Mutually Hurting Stalemate (MHS) and a Way Out, followed by the presence of a valid spokesperson for each side, third party mediation and a Mutually Enticing Opportunity (MEO).

Third party intervention refers to “various mediation efforts by external actors who attempt to influence and strengthen the conflicting parties’ conviction and perception of a ripe moment and the necessity of a negotiated settlement of conflict.”[46] As ripe moments are perceptual, third parties play an important role in alerting conflicting parties to their existence. Aggestam outlines two ways in which third parties can do this; persuasion with power and persuasion with communication. Persuasion with power involves the use of leverage and coercive power.  However, critics point out that as a result of coercive bargaining, third parties can alter and affect the structure and distribution of power within conflict and cause further escalation of violence. Persuasion with communication is a form of non-coercive mediation, whereby third parties serve as channels of communication and provide a neutral environment for exploratory talks and negotiation. Small states are especially suited to this role, as they are perceived as trustworthy and non-threatening.[47] The role and influence of potential actors in mediation is outlined below. In general terms, ‘ripeness’ allows the mediator to exert more influence and control over the mediation process as the conflicting parties are more willing than ever to reach a successful, win-win agreement.

Mediation Tracks

International conflict mediation may be carried out by a range of different actors, and these actors are generally divided into two tracks. Track I diplomacy refers to official governmental diplomacy and may be carried out bilaterally between two states, or multilaterally when several states work together and even regionally or globally through regional or inter-governmental organisations, such as the EU or the UN. [48] States may want to mediate conflicts for several reasons, including a perceived threat to their security, a desire to continue or enlarge their sphere of influence, or, more altruistically, a desire to end the suffering of those caught up in the conflict.[49] Track I diplomacy tends to primarily reflect Bercovitch’s directive mediation strategy, following a more power-based approach to the mediation process.

Track II diplomacy is also referred to as ‘citizen diplomacy’ and is generally carried out more informally than Track I diplomacy. The term “Track II” was coined by Joseph Montville, a former US diplomat, in the early 1980. Montville recognised the limitations of Track I diplomacy following US withdrawal from Moscow after Russia invaded Afghanistan

in 1979, and recognised the need for a variety of actors to engage conflicting parties on various levels.[50] He distinguishedtraditional diplomatic activities (Track I diplomacy) from “unofficial, informal interaction between members of adversarial groups or nations with the
goals of developing strategies, influencing public opinions and organizing human and material resources in ways that might help resolve the conflict.” [51] Mediation under Track II is carried out by specialized non-governmental actors such as Crisis Management Initiative (CMI), religious organisations such as the Community of Sante Egidio and humanitarian organisations such as the International Committee of the Red Cross as well as individuals mediating in an unofficial role who do not represent their country in any capacity.[52] An example of a
coordinated Track II approach can be seen in the case of Aceh[53], where the HDC initiated the mediation process as communication facilitators and then many states including Japan, Norway, Canada and Australia, the European Union and CMI became involved in the process. Martti Ahtisaari, former president of Finland and Chairperson of CMI, was the chief mediator, and the mediation process ended in a successful peace agreement (the Memorandum of Understanding) in 2005. Track II diplomacy is based more upon communication-facilitation and transformative mediation than Track I diplomacy,
which relies largely on empowerment and communication rather than carrots and sticks. [54]

There are advantages and disadvantages to both Tracks. States and large organisations such as the EU and UN have access to considerable resources. In addition, they can offer and implement political and economic incentives and they possess the requisite carrots and sticks to encourage conflicting parties to achieve a successful peace agreement. Individuals and NGOs lack these resources and therefore, their actions are often restricted to communication and facilitation only.  This means that the
mediation process relies on the buy-in of all conflicting parties as there are no real carrots and sticks on offer.[55] However, Track II mediators also have several important advantages. Their sole objective is to resolve the conflict and they will not have any vested interests in the mediation process.[56] Bercovitch highlights the fact that Track II mediators operate at an informal level and often secretly.  This allows the conflicting parties to place their trust in them implicitly.[57] Chigas, professor of practice of conflict resolution in the Fletcher School of Tufts University, also highlights that although Track I mediation processes may be well suited to resolving resource-based issues, such as poverty, control over land and the distribution of economic opportunities, “issues of identity, survival, and fears of the other can only be addressed in a process that works directly to change the underlying human relationship, promoting mutual understanding and acknowledgement of people’s concerns.”
[58] Track II mediators are also more flexible to meet with various actors; states and regional organisations cannot negotiate with groups they have listed as terrorists, and likewise, these groups may not wish to engage with states or regional organisations for fear of bias and the forceful conclusion of peace agreements
with unsatisfactory provisions. For example, neither the EU nor the US can meet with representatives from groups they have labelled as ‘terrorists,’ such as the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE) or Hamas. Geneva Call, an international humanitarian organisation dedicated to engaging armed non-state armed groups to respect and to adhere to humanitarian norms, meets with groups labelled by states as ‘terrorists’ and works with them towards renouncing certain weapons that cause excessive harm to civilians.[59]

Many academics and practitioners support a combination of the two Tracks.[60] Herrberg highlights the importance of a “necessary complementarity” between the two Tracks. [61] Fischer comments that “not all conflicts at all points in time will be amenable to a single and unified method of intervention.” [62] A coordinated, multi-track approach is necessary to resolve modern multidimensional conflicts. Individuals and NGOs can bring conflicting parties together to facilitate communication, while states and international organisations can provide the political and economic incentives to work towards an agreement as well as post-conflict reconstruction and monitoring teams. The case of Aceh once again highlights this situation; HDC and CMI facilitated communication and dialogue between the GAMand the Indonesian government while the EU was in a position to provide a monitoring mission to ensure implementation of the peace deal, as well as financial incentives needed to rebuild Aceh after the tsunami. In the Central African Republic, a combination of Track One and Track Two mediation was employed, with individuals such as President Bonga of Gabon and former President Buyoya of Burundi taking lead roles which were supported by the African Union and the UN as well as HDC.

Codes of Conduct

As the field of international peace mediation has developed, there has been an increased focus on the need for some sort of guidelines and standards for practitioners. This has led to the development of a range of training requirements, ethical guidelines and codes of conduct for mediators drawn up by various national and international
institutions. However, there is no universally accepted code of conduct or set of guidelines and existing codes and guidelines very greatly. This could lead to the practice of international peace mediation being “more political than professional”, [63] such as in the case of EU Special Representatives who are generally chosen for political reasons rather than on the basis of “merit or professional standards.”[64]

However, there arguments against the professionalisation of international peace mediation. A number of practitioners believe that detailed codes of conduct may be perceived as a ’straightjacket’, limiting the freedom and creativity of the mediator. [65] Strict guidelines and codes of conduct could require that mediation processes be carried out  in a particular way and that certain issues must be included in the dialogue process.  If parties to a conflict see that a mediator is constrained by the requirements of such codes, they may not be willing to enter into a mediation process.  If a mediator is free to mediate as he / she sees fit, without the constraints that such codes could bring, he / she is seen as being more open to deal with all of the issues of the parties who may have more
faith in the ability of the mediator to come to a satisfactory agreement, reflecting all the parties’ needs, rather than a formulaic agreement which reflects the requirements of a code of conduct. For example, some codes of conduct provide that mediators should seek the inclusion of human rights provisions in a agreement and deal with the question of justice for crimes committed during the conflict, which may alienate some parties to the conflict. In addition, certain codes of conduct may also prevent the mediator from engaging with groups which have been labelled as ‘terrorists’. [66] It is generally accepted by both academics and practitioners therefore, that non-binding guidelines for mediators are preferable in the field of international peace mediation. [67] To some, this means that professionalisation is not necessarily a positive move in the field of international peace mediation, as it is equated with the implementation of codes of conduct and guidelines.  However, professionalisation is more than codes of conduct, and includes training of mediators and perhaps some level of uniformity between mediation organisations, which some practitioners believe are necessary to ensure a positive mediation process. [68]

Therefore, it is suggested, that a middle ground must be sought and a flexible approach to the professionalisation of international peace mediators must be taken.  This could perhaps, include an increase in training programmes for mediators and the sharing of information on the details of mediation processes, whereby mediators can learn from the experience of others in the field what should be done and what should be avoided in certain mediation situations, but would not necessarily include the imposition of strict codes of conduct which would require that mediators lose some of their creativity and verve in mediation processes.

There are striking differences between the codes of conduct and sets of guidelines issued by different institutions. For example, the European Code of Conduct for Mediators does not even provide a definition of the term ‘mediator’, [69] whereas other codes of conduct, such as those provided by the Mediators’ Institute of Ireland and the Chicago International Dispute Resolution Association provide strong definitions of both the “mediator” and the process of “mediation.” A range of these codes of conduct will be compared and contrasted below, bearing in mind the four types of mediation styles outlined above and the issue of professionalization of international conflict mediation. The question of how much codes of conduct reflect the reality of a mediation process will also be addressed.

Impartiality and neutrality

The idea that a mediator must always remain neutral and impartial is widely debated in both the field of peace studies and that of legal studies. Mediators becoming involved in a conflict will inherently bring with them, be it consciously or unconsciously, their own ideas, opinions, knowledge and resources which may, intentionally or otherwise, effect the outcome of the mediation process. [70]

Although similar in meaning, there are subtle yet important differences between the concepts of impartiality and neutrality in terms of international conflict mediation. The UN “Humanitarian Negotiations with Armed Groups – A Manual and Guidelines for Practitioners” states that while both are fundamental principles of humanitarian action, neutrality means that “humanitarian negotiations should never endorse, or be perceived to endorse, a particular political aspiration or objective of the
armed group,” whereas impartiality refers to mediating without discriminating on the basis of “ethnic origin, gender, nationality, political opinions, race or religion.” [71] Thus, by remaining neutral, a mediator will not agree with or condone any of the political goals or ideologies of the conflicting parties, and by remaining impartial the mediator will treat all conflicting parties equally regardless of their background. This manual therefore calls on all mediators to be both neutral and impartial, which is not the case in other sets of guidelines or codes of conduct. The code of conduct issued by International Alert also differentiates
between the two terms quite succinctly, stating,

“by impartiality we mean not to take sides in conflicts. […] Although impartial in as far as we conduct our work among different conflict parties, we are not neutral in terms of the principles and values we adhere to which we must in appropriate ways work to advance at all times.” [72]

This implies that impartiality falls within the realm of the professional, while neutrality is something more personal. This view is further emphasised by Johan Galtung, who posits that a mediator has values, and so can never be neutral. [73] However, most codes of conduct explicitly state that the mediator should remain neutral and impartial at all times. Article 2.1 of the European Code of Conduct for Mediators deals with independence and neutrality and states:

The mediator must not act, or, having started to do so, continue to act, before having disclosed any circumstances that may, or may be seen to, affect his or her independence or conflict of interests. […] In such cases the mediator may only accept or continue the mediation provided that he/she is certain of being
able to carry out the mediation with full independence and neutrality in order to guarantee full impartiality and that the parties explicitly consent. “[74]

Impartiality and neutrality are not defined, but it is implied that a mediator’s neutrality is necessary to ensure impartiality. This in turn implies that a mediator should set aside his or her own value system in order to guarantee objective mediation. Article 2.2 goes on to deal with the issue of ‘impartiality’, and states that “[t]he mediator shall at all times act, and endeavour to be seen to act, with impartiality towards the parties and be committed to serve all parties equally with respect to the process of
mediation.”[75] Although these two provisions, particularly the latter, are rather vague and ambiguous, the message is clear; the mediator is to remain neutral and impartial at all times. Kleiboer states that impartiality is sometimes related to the mediator’s attitude towards the conflicting parties and at other times, to a mediator’s stake in the outcome of the mediation process; it may also refer to both.
[76]

Article 2.2.3 of the International Mediation Institute’s Code of Professional Conduct states that “[m]ediators will always act in an independent, neutral and impartial way.” [77] This provision does not distinguish between the mediator’s need to be both impartial and neutral. It therefore prevents the mediator from having both opinions and values, similar to the provisions set out in the European Code of Conduct. The provision also raises the issue of bias, stating that mediators “shall act in an unbiased manner, treating all parties with fairness, quality and respect.” This provision highlights one of the most salient debates within the academic literature on conflict mediation. Many commentators argue that mediators are more effective if they are seen to be impartial and act without bias.

[78] Young argues that in order to play a meaningful role, the mediator must be “perceived as an impartial party (in the sense of having nothing to gain from aiding protagonist)” [79] and Haig, a mediator himself, concurs, stating that “the honest broker must, above all, be neutral.”[80] However, there are other academics and practitioners who dispute this, arguing that a certain amount of bias is both expected and necessary from a mediator within a mediation process. Depending on the motivating factors for the mediator’s involvement in the mediation process and his/her background, the mediator will not always be indifferent to the terms of the agreement and even though he/she is seeking a peaceful settlement to the conflict, the mediator will “try to avoid terms not in accord with their best interests.” [81] The type of mediator and motivating factors for involvement is discussed below.

Kydd insists that a certain amount of bias is intricately linked with the credibility of the mediator, framing this argument in a game theory model. [82] He states that each party must believe that the mediator is telling the truth in order for the mediator to be effective. Only a mediator who is effectively ‘on your side’ is credible if he/she counsels constraint, as a mediator biased in favour of the opposing party would “have a strong incentive to claim that the opponent has high resolve [to use force] whether or not this is true.” [83] However, a mediator who shares or condones a party’s political goals would be trusted to be honest. Kydd uses the example of the Argentinean invasion of the Malvinas/Falkland Islands in 1982 and the NATO invasion of Serbia in 1999. [84] In the first case, the US acted as mediator and told Argentina that the British would use force if they did not withdraw their troops. However, the Argentineans did not believe this as they were aware that the US was biased in favour of the UK. They thus ignored this advice and the mediation attempt failed. In the second case however, the Russians acted as mediator and advised the Serbs that NATO would use force, and so the Serbs accepted the latest NATO proposals as they were aware that Russia had their best interests in mind. Kleiboer also argues that a certain amount of bias can be helpful; if the mediator is biased in favour of the stronger party,  the stronger party will be more likely to accept the mediator and in turn, the weaker party will assume that the mediator will use his/her partiality to influence their opponent. [85] Surprisingly, a completely unbiased mediator may also lack credibility. This occurs when he/she is simply interested in resolving the conflict at hand as he/she may also have a strong incentive to attempt to convince each party to make concessions.[86]

It can be seen from the various provisions and definitions of neutrality, impartiality, independence and bias above that there is little cohesion between the various cademic sources, sets of guidelines and codes of conduct for mediators. Some codes state that the mediator should always be both neutral and impartial, while others imply that while a mediator should act impartially and treat all parties equally and with respect, neutrality is something that a mediator cannot and should not be expected to espouse, as they inherently have values and these values may be important for the overall success of the peace agreement. One concern regarding strict codes of conduct which states mediators must always remain neutral and impartial is that they may become too restrictive on the mediator, limiting his or her creativity and ability to act or react spontaneously to a situation.

Who can be impartial?

The next logical step in the debate on neutrality and impartiality is the discussion on the various actors involved in the mediation process and the different ‘Tracks’ to which they belong. Herrberg points out that due to the globalisation of international politics there are many more stakeholders than there used to be, which means that diplomacy is no longer owned by states. [87] In addition, potential mediators are not always motivated by similar goals. The tenets of realism and liberalism may be applied in this case. The general consensus indicates that NGOs and private individuals are inherently more impartial and neutral, as their main goal is to resolve the conflict. [88] Small states are also more likely to act or be perceived to act impartially and often enter a mediation process with greater credibility. In asymmetrical conflicts, Slim points out that “a small state can provide a face-saver to whom capitulations can be made without threatening the public-bargaining posture” for the more powerful party, while the weaker party may view the small state mediator as an ally who recognises the difficulty in negotiating from a weaker position. [89] Algeria proved to be an effective mediator during the Iranian hostage crisis for these reasons. [90] It was a small state that was trusted by both sides and although there was bias in favour of Iran, Algeria’s ultimate goal was the safe release of the hostages.

Powerful states, on the other hand, tend to be motivated by self-interest and are therefore more likely to first of all become involved in the mediation process if it suits their own agenda and second of all, their self-interest may motivate them to try and shape the outcome of a mediation process to suit their own aims and objectives. Regional organisations are also more likely to be motivated by self-interest than non-state actors and are also more likely to influence the outcome of mediation and the content of the peace agreement. This approach negates their ability to act impartially. For example, the EU is rarely regarded as an impartial mediator, but rather as an actor with vested interests, especially in areas with close links to the EU – either geographically or historically, where former colonial history plays a role.

Leverage and Coercion

States and regional organisations are also in a better position to use financial and political leverage or coercion, which is a challenge often facing NGOs and smaller states. Herrberg points out that leverage, or “positive conditionality,” and coercion, or “negative conditionality,” have different functions in mediation; coercion is usually
used as a last resort to get parties to come back to the table while leverage is often used to ensure the success of a mediation process.[91] Leverage thus refers to the “mediator’s ability to put pressure on one or both of the conflicting parties to accept a proposed settlement.” [92] Small states acting as mediators usually rely on persuasion rather than power and coercion. [93] The EU is seen as a “vested interest mediator,” meaning that the organisation may have specific interests in directing the outcome of a mediation process. The EU also has many ‘carrots and sticks’ at its disposal. However, this does not necessarily mean that the EU is no longer impartial or neutral if it then uses these ‘carrots and sticks’; once they are used effectively and fairly, then the EU can guarantee its own interests while at the same time working towards a comprehensive resolution to conflict. It would thus become a “partial” mediator – one that has openly stated its own interests but still engages all parties with fairness and respect. Kleiboer also argues that a mediator does not have to be impartial to be successful; the type of mediator that arises is thus known as the “insider-partial” as opposed to the “outsider-neutral.” [94] However, depending on the type of mediation, neither leverage nor coercion should be used in a mediation process. For example, in the basic facilitation-communication model, the use of carrots and sticks would be ruled out as the mediator is merely enabling the sharing of information between parties and not trying to drive them towards an agreement.

Striking a balance – peace  v. justice
The inclusion of provisions relating to transitional justice in peace agreements is often one of the most challenging issues mediators must deal with in a mediation process, and recent developments in international law and practice have not been able to provide any solution. [95] Ideally, mediators would like to see provisions relating to human rights law and international humanitarian law included in the mediation process and final peace agreement. Indeed, it is often human rights abuses which cause or contribute significantly to conflict situations in the first place, or exacerbate such situations in the long term and therefore, human rights abuses need to be addressed in a post-conflict society to ensure a lasting peace.  In addition, notice needs to be taken of the seriousness of violence and breaches of international humanitarian law which occur during armed conflict to ensure that all parties feel a sense of justice in the post-conflict society.  Many guidelines and codes of conduct highlight the importance of the inclusion of human rights and humanitarian law issues in mediation processes and this is also advocated within academic literature on the subject. The code of conduct issued by International Alert, for example, highlights the organisation’s commitment to “the principle and practice of promoting individual and collective human rights” and its goal of ensuring all conflicting parties observe the minimum standards of human rights and humanitarian principles set out in Common Article 3 of the Geneva Conventions and Additional Protocol II. [96]
In the preamble and commentary on their code of conduct, it reaffirms its commitment to push for the recognition and inclusion of these principles in settlement agreements and state that it supports “measures which address the problems of impunity and injustice, historical truth and compensation for victims.” [97]

The inclusion of provisions on human rights and transitional justice is quite value-based, and comes back to the question of how neutral a mediator can be. [98] Although a mediator may disagree with granting amnesties or omitting measures for investigations into crimes committed during the conflict, he or she may have to put these values aside in order to facilitate a compromise between the conflicting parties. He or she would, however, have to take into account international reaction to granting immunity for serious human rights abuses and the reaction from potential financial donors to post-conflict reconstruction.[99] The law is also increasingly clear on amnesties. Amnesties for the most serious international crimes such as genocide, war crimes and crimes against humanity are prohibited under international law.  The UN also prohibits granting amnesty for other human rights violations, such as slavery and extra-judicial killing. Hayner also points out that provisions that prevent a victim from taking a case to court violates both the victim’s rights and many national constitutions, referring to the case of Burundi where the peace agreement granted undefined “provisional immunity” to combatants, which remained in force for years. [100]

The mediator will determine whether or not he / she can actually strive for the inclusion of such provisions; a facilitation-communication based mediator would not have the power to push either party to consider or accept provisions dealing with truth and reconciliation commissions or human rights inquiries. Herrberg points out that the EU is a value-based community that encapsulates human rights and humanitarian principles in its institutions and structures.[101] Although insisting on transitional justice measures may prove challenging, it is vitally important to uphold this value system and maintain the international
normative values it itself espouses. UN mediators are bound by the same value system.[102]

However, insisting on the inclusion of transitional justice mechanisms brings several associated risks. Parties to a conflict may not want to deal with a mediator who is going to force human rights provisions, investigations of possible war crimes and subsequent justice. Likewise, institutions such as the EU might find it problematic to
engage with actors who refuse to consider addressing massive human rights abuses and other crimes committed during a conflict. However, the inclusion of transitional justice measures need not be as black and white as “a stark choice between either prosecutions for war criminals or broad amnesty.” [103] A broad range of both judicial and non-judicial measures exists, including truthseeking and truth and reconciliation commissions, institutional reforms, providing reparations to victims, advance community reconciliation and memorials.[104]

In practice, mediators, have managed to get agreement on the inclusion of human rights issues in peace agreement.  For example, in the case of the mediation process between the GAM and the Indonesian government, the mediator, Ahtisaari, was successful in getting the agreement from the parties to include provisions on human rights and transitional justice in the final draft of the peace agreement. Article 2 of the Memorandum of Understanding deals
with human rights and the establishment of a Human Rights Court and a Commission for Truth and Reconciliation. The third section covers Amnesty and Reintegration into Society, whereby the government of Indonesia agree to grant amnesty to all persons who have engaged in GAM activities and agree to release all political prisoners and detainees.

Findings from Questionnaires and Interviews

As part of a project entitled “Mediation in Conflict Resolution:  What Makes for Successful Peace Negotiations?”, undertaken in the Centre for International Studies, Dublin City University, 2008 – 2009, [105] seven questionnaires and seven interviews were undertaken with practitioners and academics in the field of international peace mediation.  These gave very interesting insight into the theory and practice of mediation.  The main findings from this
empirical research can be summarised as follows:

• Some people working in the field of international peace mediation have not undertaken training programmes
• Some organisations work in the absence of formal guidelines/ codes of conduct for international peace mediators
• The majority of people interviewed and questioned believed there was a need for both training programmes and guidelines / codes of conduct for professional
  mediators
• The best entity to mediate in an armed  conflict situation depends on the parties but Multi-track mediation is advocated

Among the main challenges of mediation processes, were:

• Inclusion of all interested parties in the mediation process, including civil society organisations, women and marginalised people
• Staying neutral
• Staying hopeful
• Maintaining confidentiality
• Getting buy-in from disparate parties

The research highlighted that a number of factors could negatively impact on mediation processes, including:

• National self-interest
• Greed
• Bias of Mediator
• Lack of Preparation
• Inattention to detail
• Behaviour which may call into question the neutrality and impartiality of the mediator

Conclusion

It would seem that the majority of guidelines and codes of conduct established for mediators are based on the simple model of communication-facilitation, as this type of mediation allows the mediator to remain neutral and impartial in the background. The facilitation-communication category of mediation is the easiest to regulate as the mediator does not impose opinions or agenda on conflicting parties. Codes of conduct may negatively impact mediators’ ability to be creative if they are too restrictive. Track II mediation inherently allows mediators more flexibility and creativity than states operating within Track I. However, Herrberg points out that codes of conduct can be effective for all types of mediation if they are applied with flexibility. They would thus provide guidance for the mediator and “ensure the conscientious application of professional practice” while still allowing for creativity and ingenuity should the need arise.[106] The credibility of the mediator is paramount to the success of any mediation process; flexible guidelines would ensure credibility by ensuring a professional, uniform approach while allowing the mediator to utilise creativity and spontaneity when faced with challenging situations.

Recommendations

Codes of conduct are in place in all strata of occupations to ensure that work is carried out at the highest level of professionalism. This is also true for mediators; codes of conduct are established by mediation institutes all around the world to provide guidelines for mediators and uniform standards to which they must consistently endeavour to adhere. However, these guidelines and standards may be easier to employ in situations that are already well regulated and where the law is clear, such as
industrial relations and civil litigation. In international peace mediation, conflicting parties are usually much more diverse in nature with varying aims and objectives. The law is also not as clear when it comes to deciding on matters such as independence, autonomy, human rights violations, claims over natural resources or democracy. Therefore, codes of conduct for mediators working in an armed conflict setting cannot be as rigid or conclusive as those working in fields of family law or industrial relations; they should allow for flexibility, creativity and spontaneity on the part of the mediator. The mediator will have been trained for the purpose of peace mediation and should therefore be relied upon to decide when and how various strategies should be employed.

The concepts of neutrality, impartiality and bias are not necessary elements of codes of conduct; as empirical evidence has shown, these terms are badly defined and used interchangeably. This can cause confusion and ultimately hinder rather than help the mediation process. Research has indicated that a mediator can never be neutral; a mediator is a human being with an inherent value system that cannot be abandoned nor suppressed. Empirical evidence has also shown that it is not always useful for a mediator to remain impartial; often a certain amount of bias can have a positive impact on the mediation process.  Should the terms ‘neutrality’, ‘impartiality’ and ‘bias’ be used, they should be individually defined and it should be clearly stated how they are to impact the mediator.

The inclusion of the issue transitional justice in codes of conduct is also a topic of debate. The respect for and guarantee of human rights are of paramount importance to all individuals, and a violation of such rights, especially on a widespread and systematic level, should neither be tolerated nor ignored. Victims’ rights must be respected; victims must be compensated for their loss and/or suffering and perpetrators of human rights abuses must not enjoy impunity in order to contribute to a lasting peace and to deter such abuses in the future.  However, it is important to strike a balance when including transitional justice provisions within codes of conduct for mediators for several reasons. First of all, as discussed above, conflicting parties will not want to engage with a mediator who they perceive as potentially willing to blame and punish them for crimes they committed. Secondly, parties to a conflict may perceive transitional justice issues as imposing the values of one cultural system on to their own, and these values and ideals may be dissimilar in nature. [107] Finally, rigid rules may once again restrict the mediator and ultimately have a more negative impact on the mediation process.

Final Observations
Codes of conduct are an important step towards creating professional and uniform standards in international peace mediation. They are invaluable in this regard; although mediators receive extensive training to prepare them for all eventualities, codes of conduct are also there to serve as guidelines for honesty, respect, fairness, ethical conduct and mediator strategy. However, it is important that the codes of conduct reflect the delicate nature of international peace mediation. A mediator must be allowed the flexibility to act with creativity and initiative in order to maintain and enhance credibility and ultimately work without constraint towards a successful outcome to the mediation process.

Bibliography

Books and Articles

Bercovitch, J., 2004.
>”International Mediation and Intractable Conflict.” Beyond Intractability. Eds. Guy Burgess and Heidi Burgess. Conflict Research Consortium, University of Colorado, Boulder

Bercovitch, J., & Rubin, J., 1992. “Mediation in International Relations – Multiple Approaches to Conflict Management,” St. Martin’s Press, Inc.

Burger, W., 1982. ‘Isn’t There a Better Way?’ American Bar Association Journal, Vol.68

Bush, R., 2002. ‘Substituting Mediation for Arbitration: The Growing Market for Evaluative Mediation, and What it Means for the ADR Field.’ Pepperdine Dispute Resolution Law Journal, Vol.3

Carnevale, P., & Pruitt, D., 1992. “Negotiation and Mediation,” Annual Review of Psychology, vol. 43

Carroll, E., Deputy Chief Executive, CEDR, (November 2004) ‘Redefining Mediation’, available at:
http://www.cedr.co.uk/index.php?location=/library/articles/Redefining_mediation.htm

Chigas, D.,2003. “Track II (Citizen) Diplomacy.” Beyond Intractability. Eds. Guy Burgess and Heidi Burgess. Conflict Research Consortium, University of Colorado, Boulder

Conneely, S., 2001. “Family Mediation in Ireland,” Dartmouth: Ashgate

Fischer, R., 2001. “Methods of Third Party Intervention,” Berghof Handbook for Conflict Transformation, Berghof Centre for Constructive Conflict Management

Fisher, R., 1995. “Pacific, Impartial Third-Party Mediation in International Conflict: A Review and Analysis,” in “Beyond Confrontation: Learning Conflict Resolution in the Post-Cold War Era”, ed. Vasquez, J., Turner, J., Jaffe, S. & Stamato, L. University Michigan Press

Folger, J., & Bush, R., 1994. “The Promise of Mediation: Responding to Conflict through Empowerment and Recognition,” Jossey-Bass Publishers, San
Francisco.

Folger, J., & Bush, R., 2007. “Transformative Mediation and Third-Party Intervention: Ten Hallmarks of a Transformative Approach to Practice,” Mediation Quarterly, vol. 13, issue 4.

Galanter, M., 1985. “A Settlement Judge, Not a Trial Judge: Judicial Mediation in the United States.” Journal of Law and Society, Vol.12

Haig, A., 1984. “Caveat: Realism, Reagan and Foreign Policy” Macmillan, New York.

Hayner, P., 2009. “Negotiating Justice: Guidance for Mediators,” Centre for Humanitarian Dialogue

Herrberg, A., Gunduz, C., & Davis, L., 2009. “Engaging the EU in Mediation and Dialogue: Reflections and Recommendations – Synthesis report” Initiative for Peacebuilding

“Humanitarian Negotiations with Armed Groups – A Manual & Guidelines for Practitioners,” 2006. Produced by the United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs OCHA) in collaboration with members of the Inter-Agency Standing Committee (IASC)

Johnson, S., 2000. “The Case for Medical Malpractice Mediation,” Journal of Medicine and Law, Vol.5

Kleiboer, M., 1996. “Understanding Success and Failure of International Mediation” The Journal of Conflict Resolution, Vol. 40, No. 2

Kydd, A. 2003. “Which side are you on? Bias, Credibility and Mediation” American Journal of Political Science, vol. 47, no. 7

MacFarlane, J., 1999 (ed.) “Rethinking Disputes: The Mediation Alternative,” London: Cavendish Publishing

Moore,C., 1987. “The Mediation Process,” Jossey Bass

Nan, S. 2003 "Track I Diplomacy." Beyond Intractability. Eds. Guy Burgess and Heidi Burgess. Conflict Research Consortium, University of Colorado, Boulder

Palmer, M. and Roberts, S., 1998. “Dispute Processes: ADR and Primary Forms of Decision Making,” London: Butterworths

Riskin, L., 1994. ‘Mediator Orientations, Strategies and Techniques.’ Alternatives to High Cost Litigation, Vol. 12 (9)

Slim, R., 1992. “Small-state mediators in international relations: the Algerian mediation of the Iranian hostage crisis” in Bercovitch, J., & Rubin, J., 1992. “Mediation in International Relations – Multiple Approaches to Conflict Management,” St. Martin’s Press, Inc.

Young, O., 1967. “The Intermediaries: Third Parties in International Crises.” Princeton University Press

Zartman, I., 2005. “Escalation and Negotiation in International Conflicts”, Cambridge University Press

Zuckerman, M.J., 2005. “Track II Diplomacy: Can ‘Unofficial’ Talks Avert Disaster?” Carnegie Reporter, vol. 3, no. 3

6.2 Codes of Conduct

Chicago International Dispute Resolution Association Code of Conduct for Mediators, available at http://www.cidra.org/articles/ccm.htm

European Code of Conduct for Mediators. Developed by the European Judicial Network in Civil and Commercial Matters, with the assistance of the European Commission, available at http://ec.europa.eu/civiljustice/adr/adr_ec_code_conduct_en.pdf

“Humanitarian Negotiations with Armed Groups – A Manual & Guidelines for Practitioners,” 2006. Produced by the United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs OCHA) in collaboration with members of the Inter-Agency Standing Committee (IASC).

International Alert Code of Conduct, available at http://www.international-alert.org/about/index.php

International Mediator’s Institute Code of Conduct, available at http://www.imimediation.org/code_professional_conduct-.html

The Mediators’ Institute of Ireland Code of Ethics and Professional Conduct, available at http://www.themii.ie/documents/CoE.pdf

Acknowledgements

The authors wish to thank the many people who answered their questionnaires and gave interviews on their experiences of international peace mediation as part of the project ‘Mediation in Conflict Resolution: What Makes for Successful Peace Negotiations?’, undertaken in the Centre for International Studies, Dublin City University (http://www.dcu.ie/~cis/research/project-details.php?ProjectID=15). The authors are grateful for funding received from DCU’s University Designated Research Centre scheme, under which the preliminary research was undertaken. The authors are also very grateful to IRCHSS and the Department of Foreign Affairs Conflict Resolution Unit for providing funding for a further research project on the role of the EU in international peace mediation which facilitated the completion of this article.

[1] See Bercovitch, J., & Rubin, J., 1992. “Mediation in International Relations – Multiple Approaches to Conflict Management,” St. Martin’s Press, Inc. p. 1-2; Carnevale, P., & Pruitt, D., 1992. “Negotiation and Mediation,” Annual Review of Psychology, vol. 43, p. 561.

[2] The Human Security Brief 2007 states that a growing number of conflicts are ending in “negotiated settlements” rather than fought out until one sides prevails militarily and provides statistics on this trend – see Human Security Brief 2007, Human Security Report Project, Simon Fraser University, Canada, 2007. The International Crisis Behavior project states that mediation was employed in 131 of the 447 crises which occurred around the world between 1918 and 2005 – See http://www.cidcm.umd.edu/icb. The definition of “crisis” used by this project has two elements: “(1) a change in type and / or an increase in intensity of disruptive (i.e., hostile verbal or physical) interactions between two or more states, with a heightened probability of military hostilities that, in turn, (2) destabilizes their relationship and challenges the structure of an international system – global, dominant, or subsystem” – Michael Brecher and Jonathan Wilkenfeld, A Study of Crisis, 2nd ed, Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2000, pp. 4 – 5.

[3] Although mediation has been practiced for hundreds of years, in-depth studies and research on intermediary intervention date from the late 1960s, beginning with Young (1967), Burton (1969), and Stenelo (1972). Kleiboer, M., 1996. “Understanding Success and Failure of International Mediation”, Journal of Conflict Resolution, Vol. 40, No. 2. p. 360. For the purposes of this article, international conflict mediation shall refer to the mediation by a third party between two or more conflicting parties to an armed conflict of both inter- and intra-state natures. There are various definitions of mediation, as will be discussed further on in this article.

[4] For further discussion of the professionalization of international conflict mediation, see for example, Herrberg, A., 2008. “Perceptions of International Peace Mediation in the EU,” Initiative for Peacebuilding, p. 19-23.

[5] It is important to note that mediation is different from negotiation and arbitration.

[6] European Code of Conduct, available at http://ec.europa.eu/civiljustice/adr/adr_ec_code_conduct_en.pdf.

[7] Eileen Carroll, Deputy Chief Executive, CEDR, (November 2004) “Redefining Mediation”, available at: http://www.cedr.co.uk/index.php?location=/library/articles/Redefining_mediation.htm.

[8] Kleiboer, 1996, p. 360.

[9] Herrberg, 2008, p. 9.

[10] Moore, C., 1987. “The Mediation Process,” Jossey Bass, p. 14, cited in Bercovitch and Rubin 1992, p. 6.

[11] Herrberg, 2008, p. 9.

[12] MacFarlane, J., 1999. lang=IT>’The Mediation Alternative’ pp.1-21 in MacFarlane, J., 1999 (ed.) “Rethinking Disputes: The Mediation Alternative,” London: Cavendish Publishing, p. 2.

[13] Johnson, S., 2000. “The Case for Medical Malpractice Mediation,” Journal of Medicine and Law, Vol.5, p 27; Conneely, S., 2001. “Family Mediation in Ireland,” Dartmouth: Ashgate, p. 9.

[14] Palmer, M. and Roberts, S., 1998. “Dispute Processes: ADR and Primary Forms of Decision Making,” London: Butterworths, p.104, p.126.

[15] Palmer, M. and Roberts, S., 1998, p.125; Riskin, L., 1994. “Mediator Orientations, Strategies and Techniques” Alternatives to High Cost Litigation, Vol. 12, p. 111.

[16] Riskin, 1994. p.111

[17] Burger, W., 1982. “Isn’t There a Better Way?” American Bar Association Journal, Vol.68, pp. 274-277; Galanter, M., 1985. “A Settlement Judge, Not a Trial Judge: Judicial Mediation in the United States” Journal of Law and Society, Vol.12, pp.1-18

[18] Folger & Bush, 1994. p 6.

[19] Riskin, L., 1994. ‘Mediator Orientations, Strategies and Techniques.’ Alternatives to High Cost Litigation, Vol. 12 (9), p.111; Riskin was the first to identify the features of evaluative mediation. See also Bush, R., 2002. “Substituting Mediation for Arbitration: The Growing Market for Evaluative Mediation, and What it Means for the ADR Field.” Pepperdine Dispute Resolution Law Journal, Vol.3, p.113.

[20] Palmer and Roberts, 1998. p.126.

[21] Riskin, 1994. p.111.

[22] Palmer and Roberts, 1998. p.126.

[23] Riskin, 1994. p.111.

[24] Ibid at p.112.

[25] Riskin, 1994, p.112.

[26] Ibid.

[27] Folger and Bush, 1994, p.12.

[28] Riskin, 1994. p. 112.

[29] Aspinall, E., 2005, “The Helsinki Agreement – A More Promising Peace for Aceh?”, East-West Center, Washington p. 12.

[30] See Folger, J., & Bush, R., 1994. The other three types of mediation, regardless of the label used, have been researched and discussed since the 1960s.

[31] Folger, J., & Bush, R., 2007. “Transformative Mediation and Third-Party Intervention: Ten
Hallmarks of a Transformative Approach to Practice,” Mediation Quarterly, vol. 13, issue 4. p. 264.

[32] Folger & Bush, 1994. p. 87.

[33] Folger & Bush, 1994. p. 97.

[34] Folger & Bush, 1994. p. 87.

[35] Herrberg et al, 2009. p. 13.

[36] Carter, J., 2006. “Palestine – Peace not Apartheid,” Simon & Schuster, Inc. p. 45.

[37] Bercovitch, J., 2004. “International Mediation and Intractable Conflict.” Beyond Intractability, eds. Guy Burgess and Heidi Burgess. Conflict Research Consortium, University of Colorado, Boulder, p. 2.

[38] Cited in Kleiboer, 1996. p. 374.

[39] Herrberg, A., Gunduz, C., & Davis, L., 2009. “ Engaging the EU in Mediation and Dialogue:
Reflections and Recommendations – Synthesis report” Initiative for Peacebuilding, p. 13.

[40] Cited in Kleiboer, 1996. p. 374.

[41] Bercovitch, 2004. p. 2.

[42] Bercovitch, 2004. p. 2.

[43] Cited in Kleiboer, 1996. p. 374.

[44] lang=FR> Herrberg et al, 2009. p. 13.

[45] lang=FR> Fischer, R., 2001. “Methods of Third Party Intervention,” Berghof Handbook for Conflict Transformation, Berghof Centre for Constructive Conflict Management, p. 5.

[46] Aggestam in Zartman, I., 2005. “Escalation and Negotiation in International Conflicts”, Cambridge University Press, p. 280.

[47] Aggestam in Zartman, 2005. p. 281

[48] Nan, S. 2003.

[49] Bercovitch, 2004. p. 3; Fischer, 2001. p. 7; Nan, 2003.

[50] Zuckerman, M.J., 2005. “Track II Diplomacy: Can ‘Unofficial’ Talks Avert Disaster?” Carnegie Reporter, vol. 3, no. 3.

[51] Cited in Chigas, D., 2003. “Track II (Citizen) Diplomacy.” Beyond Intractability, eds. Guy Burgess and Heidi Burgess. Conflict Research Consortium, University of Colorado, Boulder.

[52] Bercovitch, 2004. p. 3.

[53] Aceh is a special territory of Indonesia, located on the northern tip of the island of Sumatra. The conflict was mainly between the Government of Indonesia and the Free Aceh Movement (GAM) and centred on the GAM’s desire for independence.

[54] Herrberg et al, 2009. p. 14.

[55] Herrberg, 2008. p. 17; Bercovitch, 2004. p. 3

[56] Interview, anonymous.

[57] Bercovitch, 2004. p. 3.

[58] Chigas, 2003.

[59] See www.genevacall.org.

[60] See for example Fischer, 2001; Bercovitch, 2004; Herrberg, 2008. This idea was also highlighted several times during interviews with academics and practitioners as part of the project entitled “Mediation in Conflict Resolution: What Makes for Successful Peace Negotiations?”, undertaken in the Centre for International Studies, Dublin City University, 2008 – 2009, http://www.dcu.ie/~cis/research/conflict-security-studies.php .

[61] Herrberg, 2008. p. 18.

[62] Fischer, 2001. p. 2.

[63] Herrberg, 2008. p. 21.

[64] Herrberg, 2008. p. 21.

[65] This conclusion is drawn from an analysis of a number of interviews and questionnaires undertaken with mediation practitioners.

[66] Interview, anonymous.

[67] Interview, anonymous.

[68] This conclusion is drawn from an analysis of a number of interviews and questionnaires undertaken with mediation practitioners.

[69] The European Code of Conduct defines mediation as “any process where two or more parties agree to the appointment of a third party […] to help the parties to solve a dispute by reaching an agreement without adjudication and regardless of how that process may be called or commonly referred to in each Member State.”

[70] Bercovitch & Rubin, 1992. p. 4.

[71] “Humanitarian Negotiations with Armed Groups – A Manual & Guidelines for Practitioners,” 2006. style=’font-weight:normal’>Produced by the United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs OCHA) in collaboration with members of the Inter-Agency Standing Committee (IASC).

[72] Commentary, Code of Conduct, International Alert, p. 8.

[73] Interview with Johan Galtung, 15^th January 2009.

[74] Article 2.1, “European Code of Conduct for Mediators,” developed by the European Judicial Network in Civil and Commercial Matters, with the assistance of the European Commission, available at http://ec.europa.eu/civiljustice/adr/adr_ec_code_conduct_en.pdf

[75] Article 2.2, European Code of Conduct for Mediators.

[76] Kleiboer, 1996. p. 369.

[77] Article 2.2.3, International Mediation Institute, Code of Professional Conduct, available at http://www.imimediation.org/code_professional_conduct-.html

[78] See for example Fisher, R., 1995. “Pacific, Impartial Third-Party Mediation in International Conflict: A Review and Analysis,” in “Beyond Confrontation: Learning Conflict Resolution in the Post-Cold War Era”, ed. Vasquez, J., Turner, J., Jaffe, S. & Stamato, L. University Michigan Press, p. 39-59; Young, O., 1967. “The Intermediaries: Third Parties in International Crises.” Princeton University Press; Haig, A., 1984. “Caveat: Realism, Reagan and Foreign Policy” Macmillan, New York.

[79] Young, 1967. p. 81.

[80] Haig, 1984. p. 266.

[81] Touval, S. & Zartman, I., 1989. “Mediation in International Conflicts” p. 118. Cited in Kydd, 2003. “Which side are you on? Bias, Credibility and Mediation” American Journal of Political Science, vol. 47, no. 7. p. 598.

[82] Kydd, 2003. p. 597.

[83] Kydd, 2003. p. 597.

[84] Kydd, 2003.

[85] Kleiboer, 1996. p. 370.

[86] Kydd, 2003. p. 599.

[87] Interview with Antje Herrberg, 26^th August 2008..

[88] This conclusion is drawn from a number of interviews and questionnaires with academics and practitioners in the field.

[89] Slim, R., 1992. “Small-state mediators in international relations: the Algerian mediation of the Iranian hostage crisis” in Bercovitch & Rubin, 1992. p. 207.

[90] Slim, 1992. p. 208.

[91] Herrberg, 2008, p. 15.

[92] Kleiboer, 1996. p. 371.

[93] Slim, 1992, p. 207.

[94] Kleiboer, 1996, p. 369.

[95] Hayner, P., 2009. “Negotiating Justice: Guidance for Mediators,” Centre for Humanitarian Dialogue

[96] International Alert Code of Conduct.

[97] International Alert Code of Conduct.

[98] Interview with Herrberg, 26^th August 2008.

[99] Hayner, 2009, p. 14.

[100] Hayner, 2009. p. 14. Amnesty may be granted for crimes such as insurrection or treason, and this is encouraged by and for parties of Additional Protocol II to the 1949 Geneva Conventions.

[101] lang=FR> Herrberg et al, 2009. p. 18.

[102] lang=FR> Herrberg et al, 2009. p. 18.

[103] Hayner, 2009. p. 5.

[104] Herrberg et al, 2009. p. 19; Hayner, 2009. p. 8.

[105] See http://www.dcu.ie/~cis/research/conflict-security-studies.php .

[106] Herrberg et al, 2009, p. 21.

[107] Cultural relativism may also apply to the mediation process itself. For example, ‘western’ mediators may wish to include female mediators as part of their team; however this may be deemed unacceptable in certain Muslim countries.

Establishing the Link: Hunger, Economic Ability and Governance

There has been inadequate progress over the past several decades towards reducing both the size and the proportion of the global population facing hunger despite the best intentions and efforts of a host of individuals,national and international institutions. A key question is raised as to whether hunger and continued chronic food insecurity can be singularly attributed to episodic natural and manmade events; and/or factors involving governance and the human development capacity of nations.
This study examines the relationship between hunger and the economic and governance capacity of a nation. The study considered various data sets to establish the links between hunger and the ability[1] and readiness[2] of nations to reduce hunger. After careful consideration of various candidate data sources[3]and initial statistical tests, the author decided to use the following three data sets in the final analysis. These are the Global Hunger Index developed by IFPRI; the Human Development Index (HDI) provided annually by UNDP; and six World Governance Indicators provided annually by the World Bank Institute: voice and accountability; political stability and absence of violence/terrorism; government effectiveness; regulatory quality (rule of law);and control of corruption. Each of the data sources is publicly available and therefore independently verifiable and subject to international scrutiny; each has been developed and refined over the past many years and will be available for future updates and analysis.

The Global Hunger Index (GHI), a tool for regularly tracking the state of global hunger and malnutrition, is developed by IFPRI. Given that the Millennium Development Goals are benchmarked against the year 1990, the GHI also tracks changes that have occurred since then. The Human Development Index (HDI) has been used since 1990 “to shift the focus of development economics from national income accounting troposphere policies.” The founder of HDI, Mahbub ul Haq,[4] states: “this development paradigm is about more than the rise or fall of national incomes.It is about creating an environment in which people can develop to their full potentials and lead productive, creative lives in accord with their needs and interests. People are the real wealth of nations. Development is therefore about expanding the choices people make to lead lives that they value. And it is about much more than economic growth, which is only a means – although a very important one – of expanding people’s choices.”

The World Governance Indicators, developed and managed by the World Bank Institute, are a compilation of information and perceptions gathered from a diverse group of respondents and collected through large variety of surveys and other cross-country assessments. Some of these instruments capture the views of firms, individuals, and public officials in the countries being assessed. Others reflect the carefully considered views bongos and aid donors with considerable experience in the countries in question. Still others are based on the assessments of commercial risk-rating agencies.

The WBI acknowledges that for many dimensions of governance, relevant and independent data is difficult to obtain. Consider the challenge of objectively measuring corruption. By definition, corruption leaves no paper trail. Even where objective measures are available, they provide only imperfect proxies for real conditions. For this study, the author derived a composite index of governance indicators using the value of each of the six governance indicators provided by the WBI. The composite governance index provides the single measure of governance used in this study.

The Measurement: Ability,Readiness and Hunger

Specifying the Data

As indicated above, three variables have been selected to further our understanding about hunger reduction strategies and accountability. These are hunger, economic capacity and governance as detailed below:

Global Hunger Index (GHI): The GHI is provided by IFPRI, Concern Worldwide and Welthungerhilfe.[5]The GHI was constructed by combining data on the under-five mortality rate, the prevalence of underweight children and the proportion of undernourished people with respect to the total population.

1. Ability: expressed by UNDP’s Human Development Index (HDI); measures country’s average achievements in three basic aspects of human development:longevity, knowledge, and a decent standard of living. Longevity is measured by life expectancy at birth; knowledge is measured by a combination of the adult literacy rate and the aggregate combined primary, secondary, and tertiary gross enrolment ratio; and standard of living is measured by per capita GDP. Hence, economic ability refers to the capacity for social and economic transformation towards a marked improvement in living conditions for individuals, communities and nations as a whole. It is not a measure of country’s underlying natural resource endowment. The HDI is reported in the 2007/2008 Human Development Report of the United Nations Development Programme (UNDP)[6]and can take any value between 0 and 1. It is an objective reflection of the position of a country’s development at a given time. For countries where HDI data is missing from the 2007/2008 HDI report (DPR Korea, Somalia, and Iraq), data from previous years was used instead.
2. Readiness: expresses governance as defined and developed by the World Bank Institute. The World Governance Indicator (WGI) consists of six indicators measuring broad categories of governance.[7]
1. Voice and Accountability: extent to which a country’s citizens are able to participate in selecting their government; includes freedom of expression; of association; and the existence and degree of a free media.
2. Political Stability and Absence of Violence/Terrorism: likelihood that the government will be destabilised by unconstitutional or violent means, including terrorism.
3. Government Effectiveness: quality of public services and capacity of civil services; the independence of the civil service from political pressures; and the quality of policy formulation.
4. Regulatory Quality: ability of the government to provide sound policies and regulations,which enable and promote private sector development.
5. Rule of Law: extent to which agents have confidence in and abide by the rules of society, including the quality of contract enforcement and property rights, the police and the courts, and the likelihood of crime and violence.
6. Control of Corruption: extent to which public power is exercised for private gain,including both petty and grand forms of corruption and “capture” of the state by elites and private interests.

For the analysis in this study, a scatter chart in the form of a 2×2 matrix has been constructed establishing the relationship between ability,readiness[8] and incidence of hunger. The vertical axis plots ability (low,high) and the horizontal axis plots readiness (low, high). The scatter chart consists of four quadrants grouping countries that are able but not ready, able and ready,unable and not ready, or unable but ready to develop and implement their ownanti-hunger strategies (see Table 1 below). The scatter chart is a dynamic tool,illustrating a continuum between and within the quadrants. The key questions the matrix seeks to answer are:

• What is the relationship between governance and hunger in a country?
• What is the relationship between human development and hunger in a country?
• What is the impact of governance and human development collectively on the status of hunger in a country?

A) Able but not ready­­ (Q1) – characterised by a combination of sufficient and/or potential resource capacity and relatively weak governance. The typology in this category is represented by sound economic indicators and a productive, growing economy whose gains can be leveraged for social transformation and development,but where insufficient governance capacity poses an obstacle to the distributive justice of economic and social benefits to the population. This situation calls for concerted regional and international advocacy efforts to ensure that nations falling under this typology invest in governance capacity for hunger reduction, for example, by providing capacity for anti-hunger legislation and policies to protect citizens from the degradation of hunger and investing in safety net programmes and economic growth opportunities.

B) Able and ready (Q2) – depicts a nation that is capable of undertaking concerted actions against hunger and poverty through participatory processes by engaging citizens and, therefore, further enhancing its enabling environment. It mischaracterized by a high position on the HDI, high WGI and a very low GHI. The typology provides a model for others to emulate wherein development partners actively engage in supporting the presence of sustained national capacity to manage anti-hunger strategies and/or prepare the necessary conditions to hand-over anti-hunger programmes.

C) Unable and not ready (Q3) – a typology of nation where economic transformation is not assured and functioning and effective governance systems are yet to be established and solidified. Typically, the Global Hunger Index is highest in this quadrant. These cases may be experiencing armed conflict, pervasive migration patterns, low health and education indicators, poor social service delivery, a generally poor state of governance with limited government control over the entirety of the national territory and insufficient or unequal resource allocation and distribution. This does not imply a lack of natural resource endowment; the country may in fact be rich in natural resources. There are simply no conditions in place to facilitate the economic and governance frameworks necessary to meet the food security needs of the population and to transform national resources into economic and social gains. This typology calls for concerted regional and international action for peacemaking where necessary and feasible; conflict resolution and mitigation measures where needed; and immediate food relief leading into longer-term reconstruction and development strategies through effective institutions.

D) Unable but ready (Q4) – an emerging economy whose governance and institutional arrangements are well placed for hunger reduction and are in take-off stage for economic growth; however, the economic transformations required for effective policy implementation is yet to take place. Typically this category is characterised by low HDI, improving WGI and high GHI. This typology provides an opportunity for engaging in genuine partnerships to develop capacity for hunger reduction measures and enhanced international investment and to support the economic transformation required to reduce hunger.

Statistical Tests: Hunger,Ability and Readiness

A cross-sectional regression test[9]for 177 countries was conducted using the incidence of hunger as a dependent variable and ability and readiness as independent Variables. The data obtained from the three sources discussed above were normalised as values between 0 and 1. HDI data was already presented as a value between 0 and 1 and the WGI data was also normalised so as to fall between 0and 1.
The statistical test shows that the Global Hunger Index significantly correlates with both economic ability and the six World Governance Indicators (see Table 1). The Human Development Index stands out as the most significant variable influencing the Global Hunger Index. An elasticity test result shows that a 10% increase in the Human Development Index would reduce the Global Hunger Index by approximately 26.4% (see Table 1).Thus, improvements in health services, education and income levels of a nation are key determinants to reducing hunger and poverty. Countries with a low Global Hunger Index also exhibit considerable associations with a high Human Development Index and high performance of governance indictors.

Furthermore, the statistical analysis shows that, among governance indicators, ‘control of corruption’ and ‘political stability and absence of violence’ significantly correlate with hunger. An elasticity test result shows that a 10% lapse in the control of corruption will exacerbate hunger by approximately 8.8%. A 10% improvement in political stability and absence of violence[10]would decrease the Global Hunger Index by approximately 5%. Although they are not as statistically significant,[11]government effectiveness, voice and accountability, regulatory quality and rule of law are also important measures (with a strong correlation coefficient weight) influencing the manifestation of hunger.

The Scatter Chart: Hunger and Country Categories

In this section the author attempts to allocate countries into one of the four scatter chart quadrants discussed above (see Figure 2). While the analysis covers 177 countries, only84 are depicted on the scatter chart, with a particular focus on the countries where hunger represents a formidable challenge. The allocation of countries into one of the quadrants is defined using the following thresholds:

• Quadrant I: Able but not Ready:
• HDI > 0.6 and WGI < 0.4 and Incidence of Hunger ≥ 10%;
• Quadrant II: Able and Ready: there are two sub-groups:
• sub-group I, HDI > 0.6; Incidence of Hunger ≤ 6.7%; and WGI > 0.3;
• sub-group II, HDI ≥ 0.6; WGI ≥ 0.4; and Incidence of Hunger ≥ 10%
• Quadrant III: Unable and Not Ready:
• HDI < 0.6; WGI ≤ 0.37; and Incidence of Hunger > 15%;
• Quadrant IV: Unable but Ready:
• HDI ≥ 0.37 and HDI <0.6; and WGI > 0.3 and WGI ≤ 0.52; Incidence of Hunger >10%

Based on the above, we can now allocate countries into one of the four quadrants on the scatter chart and discuss implications and recommendations for corresponding action.

Country Category: Q1, Able but Not Ready

These countries typically rank higher than the established median on the HDI at 0.6 but exhibit a relatively low World Governance Indicator (< 0.4). They are further charactetised by a medium/high Global Hunger Index, falling between 10% and26%. Table 2 depicts the varying degrees of each indicator (HDI, WGI and GHI).Included in this list are OPT, Azerbaijan, Uzbekistan, Honduras, Bolivia, Vietnam, Nicaragua, Guatemala, Sri Lanka, Laos and Tajikistan.
Anti-hunger strategies for these countries require robust internal institutional structures and a concerted effort to develop, maintain and implement policy/legislative frameworks in order to systematically address the particular hunger challenges they face. In order to strengthen institutions and accountability structures that address low performance with respect to governance, these countries should put in place productive and social safety nets relevant to the specific conditions in the country. Actions should focus on heightened advocacy combined with technical assistance so as to strengthen the capacity of national institutions which address hunger and invest in the development of anti-hunger structures, strategies, legislation and targeted disaster management and safety net programmes.

Country Category: Q2, Able and Ready

Countries in this category are characterised by a low Global Hunger Index ranking (some countries with less than ten per cent and others with greater than ten per cent GHI), high HDI (> 0.6) and a World Governance Indicator ranking above 0.4(see Table 3). Thus, countries in this category represent a model for others,demonstrating that it is feasible to significantly diminish the incidence of hunger. Humanitarian action may consider designing and implementing hand-over strategies for these countries by ensuring effective anti-hunger institutions,legislation and policies are deeply rooted in the national system along with guaranteed food security for the population. India stands out a country with23% GHI but very strong HDI and emerging composite index of WGI.

Country Category: Q3, Unable and Not Ready

Countries in this category are characterised by a very high ranking on the Global Hunger Index (in excess of 15%), a relatively low ranking on the Human Development Index (<0.3), and a very low ranking on the World Governance Index (< 0.3) as shown in Table 4. These countries are typified by political instability and violence, low national capacity to control corruption and very poor government effectiveness. Some of them, such as Somalia, Afghanistan and the DRC, are mired in civil conflict while others are at a crossroads in the peacemaking stage.
Appropriate action for countries falling into this quadrant includes direct humanitarian investment to guarantee the protection of citizens from the degradation of hunger; and/or engaging with national systems in incremental capacity development activities, particularly to ensure the creation of anti-hunger institutions and anti-hunger policies and programmes. In addition,these countries require a sustained commitment to create a space wherein lasting hunger solutions can be found through transitional, post-conflict and recovery programmes. These programmes should build trust and encourage local investment in social safety nets, and, at the macro-level, the forging and nurturing of viable partnerships with promising government counterparts,community leaders and civil society.

Country Category: Q4, Unable but Ready

This category represents emerging/transitional economies whose global hunger index remains high—human development index (>0.3) and WGI (>0.3) as shown in Table 5.Chronic hunger is generally widespread among the population, and often articulating hunger reduction strategies can run counter to national priorities for economic growth. Countries in this category include Ghana, Lesotho, Benin, Senegal, Timor Leste, Angola, Ethiopia and Liberia.
For countries in this quadrant, it is critical to invest in anti-hunger action including access to food for the most vulnerable and targeted technical assistance for national capacity development in key areas anti-hunger institutions and anti-hunger policies and legislation.

Implications for Humanitarian Action

The study reveals that hunger is as much the result of poor or weak governance that precipitates economic downturn as that of episodic natural or manmade events causing individual and community crises.The statistical test results show that a 10% increase in the Human Development Index (improvements in health, education, and per capita income) will reduce the Global Hunger Index by about 26.4%. Similarly, a 10% tightening up in the control of corruption will improve the hunger index by 8.8%. Also, a 10%improvement in political stability and an absence of violence will decrease the Global Hunger Index by about 5%.
As this study reveals, both ability and readiness must co-exist at a comparably high level in order to effectively understandably reduce hunger. As a result, where governance is poor, a high Human Development Index alone may be insufficient to bring hunger under control. Similarly, good governance alone, without strong social and economic performance, cannot guarantee a tangible reduction in hunger levels.
Humanitarian organisations must now build on their experience and expertise to forge a coalition with their development partners in order to strengthen the capacity of national systems for greater accountability and the ability to guarantee hunger solutions for their citizens— a goal that is inherently transformational and all-inclusive. Supporting improvements in economic capacity and governance will reinforce the accountability structures between citizen and State — a sustainable approach to reducing hunger. National systems should be assisted to assume ownership, to innovate and to create hunger solutions for at-risk citizens.
Furthermore, the findings underline the importance of investing in effective and accountable institutions while fostering strong social and economic performance. International action for hunger reduction should be conceived within a national development agenda and include robust governance structures. It is only by working within national agendas that hunger reduction strategies can be made to work in the interest of those who have suffered the most from hunger over extended periods. Therefore, the contemporary humanitarian and recovery assistance strategies that have until now been singularly focused on assisting individuals affected by hunger should be recast with concerted international action to strengthen the capacities of individuals,communities and governments to protect themselves and their citizens from hunger.

Assigning countries along the four quadrants of the scatter chart offers a clear engagement strategy for assisting countries to develop the necessary institutional and policy capacity development to sustainable hunger.

References

Fukuyama,Francis, (2005) State Building. Governance and World Order in the Twenty-First Century. Cornell University Press.

IFPRI, (2008) Global Hunger Index. The Challenge of Hunger 2008. International Food Policy Research Institute (FPRI), Welthungerhilfe, Concern Worldwide.

Jacobson, et al (2000). Leading for a change: How to master the 5 challenges faced by every leader. Butterworth-Heinemann

Kaufmann and Kraay (2008) Two Comments on “Governance Indicators: Where Are We, Where Should We Be Going?”The World Bank Institute.

Kaufmann and Mastruzzi (2009) Governance Matters 2009: Learning From Over a Decade of the Worldwide Governance Indicators. The World Bank Institute.

Kent,Randolf, (1987) Anatomy of Disaster Relief. An International Network inAction. Printer Publishers.

Kjaer, Anne M (2004) Governance. Key Concepts. Polity.

UNDP (2008) Human Development Report 2007/2008. Fighting climate change: Human solidarity in a divided world.

World Bank Institute, (2007) A Decade of Measuring the Quality of Governance. Governance Matters 2007 Worldwide Governance Indicators, 1996–2006

World Bank Institute, (2009) Governance Matters 2009: Learning From Over a Decade of the Worldwide Governance Indicators

[1]Ability refers to a country’s use of its economic, human and institutional resources for anti-hunger programmes and actions.

[2]Readiness refers to a political and institutional structure which allows for the implementation of pro-poor, anti-hunger policies and programmes.

[3] More than 15 data sources were reviewed before we determined appropriateness of the dataset use din this study.

[4] http://hdr.undp.org/en/humandev/

[5]See Global Hunger Index. The Challenge of Hunger 2008.Welthungerhilfe, IFPRI, Concern Worldwide. The publication provides data for 121 countries.

[6] See UNDP 2007/2008 Human Development Report.

[7]Governance is defined as “the traditions and institutions by which authority in a country is exercised, including the process by which governments are selected, monitored and replaced; the capacity of the government to effectively formulate and implement sound policies; and the respect of citizens and the state for the institutions that govern economic and social interactions among them.” See http://info.worldbank.org/governance/wgi/mc_countries.asp

[8]The terms ability and readiness are adapted from the”able and willing” concept used by Ralph Jacobson, Keith Setterholm, JohnVollum, Figure 4 – 1, page 87. Leading for a change: how to master the five challenges faced by every leader, Published by Butterworth-Heinemann, 2000

[9]The statistical test ascertains correlation among ability, readiness and hunger and helps to avoid speculative conjecture.

[10] While the relationship between hunger and political stability and absence of violence is commonplace,statistical tests are carried out in order to avoid conjecture.

[11] This maybe due to a high degree of covariance among some WGI variables, for example,control of corruption is strongly correlated with governance effectiveness,regulatory quality and rule of law. Rule of law highly correlates with government effectiveness and regulatory quality, and regulatory quality correlates strongly with governance effectiveness. We suspect that the data used for each variable might contain similar measurements, explaining a high level of covariance.

The author is working for the UN World Food. An extended manuscript of this paper was initially published as an internal WFP occasional paper. The views expressed herein are those of the author, and do not in any way imply those of WFP.

Following the demise of the Washington Consensus, which was insisting on the need of freeing markets in order to achieve sustainable growth, politics and the state have came back at the center of the debates about development. In the new mind-frame Good Governance has become the core of the strategies aiming at sustainable development, while the State has been identified as the key player in order to achieve the long term aim of eradicating poverty[1].

As the debate in the development field was unfolding, even humanitarian workers began to question themselves over the risks connected with their action, discovering that it was contributing to shape the political environment in which they were intervening. Notably, in the new frame of state building, humanitarian aid was always more perceived to be at risk of undermining the aim of extending the legitimacy and authority of the central government by establishing channels alternative to the state to provide services to the population[2].

In response, the humanitarian community came up with a series of proposals, summarized under the formula ‘Do not harm’, which was essentially based on the idea that humanitarian aid was to be provided in a way that would not prove counter-productive in the long term[3]. Some contributed to this concept broadening the scope of humanitarian aid encompassing activities aimed at transforming the conflict context in which humanitarian action was taking place. However this transformative humanitarianism, advocated by authors such as Mary Anderson or Robert Miller, was considered by dunantist and principled organizations as carrying the implicit risk of politicizing humanitarian aid by jeopardizing the fundamental principles of neutrality, and impartiality.

This article analyses the case of the steering committees established by the Italian NGO INTERSOS in Lebanon following 2006 war between Israel and Hizbullah. They are proposed here as an example of transformative humanitarianism which is able to fully respect the principles of neutrality, impartiality and independence, acting at the same time as a mean to strengthen state’s authority, and to reinforce the linkages between the central government and the local civil society. Obviously the experience which will be described in this article is deeply rooted in the context of Lebanon, however some relevant features could prove extremely useful in other areas of intervention.

To carry on the analysis this paper will be divided into three sections: The first one, is aimed at describing the context of southern Lebanon in particular focusing on the period following the 2006 war between Lebanon (Hizbullah) and Israel; The second section, evaluates the project of the steering committees which have been set up with the support of INTERSOS, and their impact in terms of state building and humanitarian action. The third section contains the conclusions of the article.

The article is based upon interviews collected on the ground during an ad-hoc field mission between 16th and 20th of August 2009, this is compounded by an analysis of official documents produced by the steering committees themselves, and by follow up interviews of INTERSOS Lebanese staff in Rome in November 2009.

The Context: Lebanon after the 2006 War

While launching its two rockets and subsequent kidnapping two Israeli soldiers the July 12th 2006, Hizbullah fighters were not aware of passing one of the red lines which characterize the Israeli-Lebanese relations. Up to that point attacks by the Islamist militiamen were responded through rounds of artillery fire from the Israeli side of the border, and vocal condemnation by the International Community. The same Hasan Nasrallah – Hizbullah Secretary General – by kidnapping the soldiers was aiming at a prisoner swap, not at causing a war between Hizbullah and the State of Israel.[4]

However, that 12th of July something new happened, the Israeli Government, under heavy internal political pressure decided to reassert its military deterrence by launching a full-fledged invasion of the South of Lebanon.

The 34 days of campaign were characterized by two prominent features, on one side the inability of the International Community to build up consensus in the Security Council to stop the war, on the other the inability of the Israeli Army, despite the successful air-strike campaign, to win the war on the ground. Hizbullah on its side, by merely resisting and ‘not loosing’, was gaining ground in Lebanon as the ultimate guarantor of Lebanese sovereignty, in contrast to the regular army that was remaining on the sidelines of the war, and reasserted its credentials as the only Arab competitor of Israel, thus digging in the emotions of other Arab public opinions from Egypt to Syria.

The war ended thanks to a Security Council sponsored ceasefire, under the terms of Resolution 1701, the 14th of August 2006. The agreement reached in New York provided a face-saving device for Israel by empowering the UN peacekeeping mission (UNIFIL) up to 15.000 men, and extending the reach of the Lebanese Army to the South where it was entrusted with the outstanding authority to carry out, in collaboration with UNIFIL, the disarmament of armed personnel in the area south of the Litani river. Hizbullah, and partially Lebanon, were obtaining their own advantages from a resolution of this kind as the new UN Force mandate was designed in order to make it unable to truly pursue the disarmament of the militias, or altering the balance of power in the region, but was strong enough, or at least this was their hope, to provide for a deterrent against Israeli violations of Lebanese sovereignty. Essentially Resolution 1701 was a realist device, able to stop the conflict without fundamentally changing the status quo in the region[5].

However, though effective conflict ended 14^th of August its humanitarian consequences were there to stay. The South of Lebanon, an essentially agricultural area, was flooded with Unexploded Ordinances (UXOs), with the Israeli Army reticent to hand over the strike details of its artillery and air force thus impeding effective demining of the area[6]. The death toll was amounting to over 1000, and increased during the following years due to the presence of landmines and cluster bombs, the economic damage to Lebanon, mostly concentrated in the relatively poorer south, was estimated around 5 billion/$, almost 20% of Lebanon GDP, while the number of IDPs was estimated at 1 million people. However, the intervention of the International Community in this specific case was swift and resourceful, with non-western actors playing an extremely relevant role in the reconstruction process. This resulted in OECD countries pledges for around one billion US$ in humanitarian and development aid, and probably an even much stronger engagement by Gulf States and Iran, seeking to strengthen respective power positions in the country[7].

The main difference between Western and non OECD actors was connected to the programs that were financed, in fact, while Saudi Arabia, Iran and Qatar mainly focused on infrastructural reconstruction channeling the funds through non-state actors such as Hizbullah or other sectarian groups, the Europeans and the United States concentrated their efforts on strengthening Lebanese Government’s ability to project its power over the country, under the so-called ‘good governance’ agenda[8].

Despite imagining to implement successfully a good governance agenda in a country characterized by a sectarian conception of the central state could have been considered a chimera, some important advancements in a state-building direction have been made so-far. In particular, the southern regions which, ever since they were occupied by the Israeli army in 1982 had been mostly excluded from the calculations of the policy-makers in Beirut, thus increasing reliance on local non-state actors, witnessed some important developments in a state-building direction. This was due to three main factors, first of all the presence of the Lebanese Army in the south as a guarantor of everyday security was accepted and greeted by most of the southerners; second of all the authority of local municipalities, elected for the first time in 2001, was on the rise thus partially shifting service provision from informal to formal actors; finally, the decision by Hizbullah to exploit its resistance standing through internal democratic procedures ensured the election of its representatives in key positions of southern municipalities, thus reinforcing the legitimacy of local institutions. This is not to say that non-state and civil-society actors were fundamentally weakened and substituted by the central state, but only that for the first time in Lebanese recent history part of the governance in the south was ensured by official Lebanese authorities, and not by civil society or sectarian organizations.

This evolving context was the one faced by humanitarian organizations intervening in Lebanon. As a consequence, one of the main problems for humanitarian NGOs intervening in the area was to follow the humanitarian principles of neutrality, impartiality and independence without undermining the state building process taking place in the south. In fact, if the NGOs intervening in the area were to deliver services outside formal channels, here intended as those controlled by the central or local authorities, the risk was to undermine the attempt of official administrations to strengthen their role against an extremely powerful and polarized civil society; at the same time channeling funds through formal authorities, which in Lebanon are dominated by sectarian logics, was carrying the risk of undermining the neutrality of humanitarian endeavor. Consequently if by delivering aid on its own an external humanitarian agency could have been sure about the respect of humanitarian principles, this was at risk of undermining an already difficult state building process.

The next section of the paper deals with an innovative solution, employed by the Italian NGO INTERSOS, to tackle the above mentioned problem.

The Experience of the Steering Committees – Building a State Through Humanitarian Action

INTERSOS intervened in Lebanon with its Emergency Team in the first days of the 2006 conflict. From the onset it set up a mission as locally driven as possible hiring highly capable local staff which, along the time, has taken the lead of the mission. INTERSOS actions in the country included in a first phase: food distributions; humanitarian protection, in particular through psycho-social assistance to children; mine risk education; and primary care. However, with the emergency phase fading down INTERSOS began to reflect how to provide durable and sustainable solutions, able to transform in the longer term the socio-institutional framework of the South of Lebanon.

The main problem for a humanitarian organization engaging activities other than ‘mere’ relief is how to keep in line with the humanitarian principles of neutrality, impartiality and independence while entering the political realm. However, thanks to the deep knowledge of the setting provided by the local staff, INTERSOS has been able to imagine creative solutions which, though aimed at supporting the strengthening of the state-society relations, would not tarnish the perception of INTERSOS as an humanitarian and neutral actor.

The solution the organization came out with are the so-called ‘steering committees’. These are second-level organizations participated by a wide number of actors operating in a given administrative area (Kadaa) in the field of social assistance. Each committee’s membership includes: (1) local NGOs and voluntary organizations representing civil society, (2) the local Union of Municipalities, representing local institutions, and (3) the Ministry of Social Affairs of Lebanon acting through local Social Development Committees.

The idea at the core of the Steering Committees was not simply to create a forum for discussion between different actors, but to coordinate different actors to implement  social assistance projects in a given area through joint ventures between their members thus favoring dialogue and reconciliation by acting together. The opinion of one of INTERSOS’ local workers is that: ‘the main asset of the Steering Committees is their ability to be operative and to foster dialogue between institutional and non institutional actors on projects which are jointly implemented’.

The statute of the committees is contained in an ad-hoc Term of Reference (ToR), which defines operative procedures to enable the work of the committees. By analyzing the ToR it appears immediately evident the effort to be inclusive and to provide for a fully voluntary mechanism not to hurt the sensibility of any actor. This is evidenced for instance by article three of the ToR which identifies ‘coordination’ as the key goal underpinning Committees activity, but defines it  mainly in a negative form by stating that: ‘coordination is the main methodology of action, however it does not aim at uniting policies, at creating competing organization, at criticizing work made by others, at interfering in internal issues of any member’[9].

The operational capability of the Steering Committee is ensured through democratic voting procedures which are based on majority voting and not on consensus (art.5 – ToR), this is compounded by an executive body, the ‘sub-committee’, which is responsible for the implementation of the projects and is composed by four members, two of which belonging respectively to the Union of Municipalities and the Ministry of Social Affairs.

Projects implemented so far have always been small in size (20.000-30.000$) focusing upon four fields of action: Children and Youth, Environment, Elders, Mine Victims and Disabled, evidencing a preference for social assistance projects targeting the most vulnerable categories. The overall aim was to guarantee decent living conditions through an official channel to people that had usually relied on faith or sectarian-based charity in order to get the necessary assistance.

Resources for the projects and the functioning of the committees have initially been provided by INTERSOS, which acted even as a catalyst and promoter of the entire process, and by other international actors such as the Italian Development Cooperation, UNHCR and UNIFIL.  However, since their creation, the committees have been designed as self-supporting organizations able in the medium term to fundraise autonomously. This is evidenced by the statute itself as it requests each member of the steering committee to pay a symbolic amount, 100.000 Lebanese Pounds (66$), to become members. Nowadays, some of the projects implemented are partially contributed by Steering Committees’ members which contribute to single initiatives through ad-hoc contributions coming from their own budgets.

The selection of the target groups benefitting from the projects is carried out jointly between INTERSOS and the Steering Committees in order to ensure maximum degree of impartiality, and an action exclusively based on needs. Moreover, the same participation to the committee of all kind of associations, with different backgrounds ensures a high level of peer-review guaranteeing against sectarian or party preferences. However, despite participating in the financing and monitoring of the projects to ensure compliance with humanitarian principles, INTERSOS has reduced its external visibility to the minimum in order to foster that of the steering committees. This was understood as an essential step to avoid undermining of the institution-building process in the area.

Nevertheless, despite present success, recognized both by local institutions and by the population of the South, the creation of steering committees has been a difficult process. In particular, in an area dominated by sectarian rivalries entrenched in years of civil war and inter-communal violence, the ice-breaking process to coordinate the activities of the various actors was extremely challenging. The asset of INTERSOS in engaging in this process was deriving primarily from its humanitarian mandate, in fact having asserted its neutrality on the ground – by distributing according to careful needs assessment and by employing staff belonging to all different communities present in the area, INTERSOS has been perceived as a credible broker by the different organizations involved in the Steering Committees’ creation process. However, though the mediator was considered neutral and able to deliver in terms of project financing, the process of signing of the Terms of Reference has included many bi- and multi-lateral meetings – for instance between the first draft of the articles of the ToR and the final approval ten interim meetings had to be gathered.

Today six Steering Committees are operating in the area of South of Lebanon covering the Kadaa of Maarake, Nabatiyeh, Bint Jbail, Tyre,and  Khyam. They provide services for the most vulnerable sections of the population, and are participated by more than one hundred associations, various Social Development Centers – belonging to the Ministry of Social Affairs – and tens of Municipalities. As a consequence they provide not only an essential forum for interaction between the civil society, the local and the national authorities, but represent an important factor to empower the credibility of institutions in the eyes of the local population. The success of this initiative in granting humanitarian principles while supporting state building process was confirmed both by the widespread recognition of INTERSOS’ work by extremely different institutional and non institutional actors, which was evident at the time of fieldwork, but most of all by the wide participation of very different civil society organizations to the experience of the steering committees. These organizations, although often competing between themselves and with state authorities for service delivery, in this particular framework have been able to act in a collaborative manner.

Conclusions

Humanitarian debate of the last years has been dominated by the polarization between transformative humanitarians, advocating a humanitarian action directed at influencing root causes of conflict, and dunantist, convinced that to respect humanitarian mandate and principles any engagement in the political realm is to be avoided.

This article points at a case where, by respecting humanitarian principles of neutrality, impartiality and independence, a NGO has been able to become the catalyst of a state building process in the area of the South of Lebanon. In fact, by insisting upon its neutral and humanitarian credentials, INTERSOS has been able to act as a credible broker and mediator between civil society organizations, local institutions and the central state fostering trust between them.

This process of trust building has resulted in the creation of ad-hoc steering committees which provide both a forum for discussion between different actors, and which are actively providing services to the local vulnerable people, thus ensuring the respect of humanitarian fundamental aim of delivering only on the base of need. Moreover, by providing services the steering committees increase the standing of formal and coordinated institutions in the eyes of a population accustomed to sectarian and communal logics.

It is clear that this approach was possible thanks to the particular situation of the South of Lebanon where partial stability and the absence of conditions of extreme poverty have allowed the project of building steering committees to be pursued without risking to undermine access to the local population, or to delay response to extremely urgent needs. Consequently its application in other areas should be carefully assessed as in many cases urgent humanitarian concerns will prevail against an highly consultative and time-consuming process such as the one which lead to the creation of the steering committees.

However, despite a conducive context, the framework created by INTERSOS in Lebanon represents an interesting mid-way between different approaches to humanitarian action, allowing for space of discussion and providing an example where respecting the humanitarian mandate does not necessarily clash with the long term aim of state-building. This advocates for similar frameworks to be employed in non-primary emergency phases where confidence building concerns, as well as the need to favor the processes of state building, can go in hand with the respect of humanitarian principles which can help the NGO involved to be perceived as a credible broker.

Giulio Di Blasi is a policy officer working for the Italian NGO INTERSOS. He holds a MA in Conflict, Security and Development by King’s College of London, and has extensively travelled in the Near Middle East.

References

[2] USAID (2002)

[3] Anderson, M. (1999)

[4] Hasan Nasrallah interview with Al Jazeera (Jul 20th, 2009)

[5] International Crisis Group (2006)

[6] Report of the Secretary General on Resolution 1701 (2009)

[7] Hamieh, S. &amp; Mac Ginty, R. (2009)

[8] Ibid

[9] Tyre Steering Committee Term of Reference – Article 3

Essential Bibliography

Anderson, Mary (1999), Do no Harm: How Aid Can Support Peace or War, (London: Lynne Rienner)

Hamieh Sylva Christine and Mac Ginty Roger (2009), A very political reconstruction: governance and reconstruction in Lebanon after the 2006 war, Disasters, Vol.34, n°1

Harvey Paul (2009), Towards good humanitarian government: The role of the affected state in disaster response, HPG Report 29, Overseas Development Institute

International Crisis Group (2006), ‘Israel/Hizbollah/Lebanon: Avoiding Renewed Conflict’, Middle East Report n°59

United Nations Security Council (2009), ‘Report of the Secretary General on the Implementation of Resolution 1701′, United Nations (New York), S/2009/119

Acknowledgments

The author would like to thank all INTERSOS staff in Lebanon which his hospitality and great availability throughout the drafting of the paper.

Forced migration and displacement is a profound injustice. It undermines human dignity and security and eliminates choice about where and how people want to live. An important aspect of redress is thus the right of refugees and internally displaced persons (IDPs) to freely choose a solution to their dislocation. This right of free choice is guaranteed under humanitarian and human rights law. The UN Refugee Agency (UNHCR) has outlined three durable solutions for refugees: voluntary repatriation, local integration, or resettlement in a third location. Designed originally with refugees in mind, these solutions have been extended to IDPs, through the Guiding Principles on Internal Displacement. The options are adapted to: return to their former homes, integration at the location they were displaced to, or resettlement to another part of the country.

The right to choose among these options, however, has often been an artificial one, as it is exercised in the context of a political and normative framework that prioritises one solution over another. This paper demonstrates this phenomenon in the context of post-war Bosnia and Herzegovina. It argues that political aims have dominated what should be a neutral humanitarian process focused on supporting the needs of refugees and internally displaced persons.  The desire to reverse ethnic cleansing in BiH has resulted in interventions designed to promote return exclusively. This has deprived refugees and IDPs of the right to choose among the three durable solutions and, in the context of weak conditions for sustainable return, has left many without any durable solution.

This paper first discusses the politics behind the push for return in post-war Bosnia and Herzegovina and the initial difficulties encountered in promoting return.  It then explores the sustainability of return and the on-going challenges faced by returnees.  Finally, it looks at recent developments that aim to provide refugees, IDPs and returnees with access to durable options in the form of support for sustainable return and, for the first time, support for integration.  Despite this shift, however, the humanitarian space continues to be controlled by politics, hindering efforts to move toward the provision of neutral assistance.

Why a focus on return in Bosnia and Herzegovina?

The forced displacement of an estimated 2.2 million persons (UNHCR) during the 1992–1995 war in Bosnia and Herzegovina (BiH) was not a by-product of war but rather its very purpose. It was part of the policy of ‘ethnic cleansing,’ the term used to describe ‘the elimination by the dominant ethnic group of a given territory of members of other ethnic groups within that territory’ (United Nations, 1995: 65-66). This was achieved in BiH through a variety of methods, including harassment, beatings, torture, rape, summary executions, forced relocation, confiscation of property and destruction of homes, places of worship and cultural institutions. By the end of the war, 90 percent of the pre-war Bosnian Serb population left the area now called the Federation of BiH and over 95 percent of pre-war Bosnian Croat and Bosniak (Bosnian Muslim) inhabitants left what is now Republika Srpska (Rosand, 1998). The Dayton Peace Agreement, signed in December 1995, put an end to the fighting and officially divided the country into two entities: the Bosniak-Croat Federation and Republika Srpska (RS). At the same time, the Dayton Agreement guaranteed all refugees and displaced persons the right to return to their original homes. Annex 7 of the agreement stipulates:

All refugees and displaced persons have the right freely to return to their homes of origin. They shall have the right to have restored to them property of which they were deprived in the course of hostilities since 1991 and to be compensated for any property that cannot be restored to them . . . The Parties undertake to create in their territories the political, economic, and social conditions conducive to the voluntary return and harmonious reintegration of refugees and displaced persons, without preference for any particular group.

Return was considered essential in BiH for various reasons. There was concern over the burden of high numbers of Bosnian refugees on third countries and moreover the belief that the return of refugees and displaced persons was essential to peacebuilding. As in other post-war contexts, unresolved problems of displacement were considered to be destabilising and a threat to peacebuilding efforts. The return of refugees and IDPs came to be seen as a central component of peacebuilding – a way to restore pre-war ‘normalcy’, demonstrate confidence in the post-war order and promote stability. This was considered to be particularly important in the case of BiH, where displacement had been a goal of the war.  The UNHCR, the Office of the High Representative (the chief civilian peace implementation agency, established under Dayton) and other international agencies decided that the best option for peacebuilding and reconciliation in the long run would be one that sought to reverse ethnic cleansing by promoting return to homes of origin. The pre-war 1991 census was used as a baseline of return (Tuthail and Dahlman, 2005). The fulfilment of the right to return became a crucial measure of the success of the Dayton Agreement and the hope for a restored multicultural Bosnia. It was also considered necessary to send a message that ethnic cleansing would not be tolerated by the international community.

The challenges in implementing the return policy

The implementation of this right to return policy was tremendously difficult. Not only were 1.2 million Bosnian refugees scattered overseas but approximately one million were also displaced internally (UNHCR). Many abandoned houses were occupied by internally displaced Bosnians, whose houses, in turn, were occupied by people displaced from other areas. Return was an extremely complex and politically charged process. At one end, some Bosniaks insisted that displaced persons should if necessary be forced to return collectively. On the other, nationalist Serb and Croat parties resisted return and supported the local integration of displaced persons to maintain their own local ethnic majority (IDMC, 2009).  Local authorities, eager to consolidate war-time gains vehemently blocked minority returns, which are returns by refugees and IDPs to areas in which they are now part of a minority group. They often mobilised whole communities of displaced persons to violently confront minority returnees and to destroy their property. With wounds from the war still festering, individuals and groups felt safer among their own and were open to such mobilisation.

After persistent obstruction by local authorities to return, the international community decided, in 1999, to depoliticise the process by shifting the focus away from the politicised right to return to an individual right to property, grounded in rule of law. Under this new Property Law Implementation Plan (PLIP), a legal-administrative framework was set up that required property claims to be processed on a neutral ‘first-come, first-served’ basis and in a standardised and transparent manner. The impact of this reorientation was tremendous. By December 2003, close to 93 percent of 216,026 real property restitution claims had been processed. Although it eliminated the explicit push for return, the PLIP, by breaking the impasse on property repossession, allowed for significant progress in recorded minority returns. Such returns throughout BiH increased from an annual total of 41,007 in 1999 to 102,111 in 2002 (UNHCR BiH, 2005).

Restitution, or compensation in lieu, is considered a free-standing autonomous right, as confirmed by the UN Principles on Housing and Property Restitution for Refugees and Displaced Persons (The Pinheiro Principles, 2 and 21). It should be independent of return. Despite the shift in focus to property restitution in Bosnia through the PLIP, restitution did not however become the end goal. Return was still considered the primary approach to redress, and property restitution was seen only as a mechanism to promote return. This is evident in the decision by the international community to bypass compensation for lost properties, provided for in Annex 7. No mechanisms for compensation – in particular, no compensation fund, were established as it was feared that the availability of compensation would deter return. Instead where restitution was not possible, donors sought to provide funds for housing reconstruction. The underlying philosophy behind the restitution process remained the political goal of promoting return to one’s original home.

The reliance on property restitution and denial of compensation in lieu has resulted in peculiar differential treatment among Bosnian refugees and displaced persons based on property damage. Those whose properties were largely intact benefited from the property restitution process and have been able to choose whether to return or whether to sell their property and use proceeds to establish themselves in their area of displacement or in a new location. Sale proceeds became a form of de facto compensation. On the other hand Bosnians, whose properties had been destroyed, did not have this choice due to the absence of an official compensation scheme. In addition, those who didn’t own property in the first place have also been denied support. It is thus unclear whether some IDPs who have expressed a preference for return have done so out of free choice or because it has been the only way to secure assistance.

Are returns genuine? Is there really a ‘home’ to return to?

Fourteen years since the Dayton Peace Agreement, more than one million former refugees and IDPs are reported to have returned to their pre-war homes. These returns include a significant 467,297 in minority returns (UNHCR statistical summary, as at 31 December, 2008).  The political motives behind the promotion of return in Bosnia and Herzegovina is not to take away from a key reason why return is a sought after ‘durable solution’: it is often the refugee’s or displaced person’s profound wish to return home. This may in some cases be a choice made in congruence with political motives – an intense disagreement with and wish to counter the objectives and/or outcomes of war. For many though, the wish stems simply from the fervent longing for home.

The problem with this context, however, is that ‘home’ as remembered by refugees and displaced persons no longer exists. This is due not only to the profound changes wreaked by the war, but in the case of BiH, also due to the insufficient attention and resources given to factors that would help to sustain a ‘home’, such as livelihoods, employment opportunities and social renewal.

The international community and subsequently the Bosnian government has taken a narrow view of ‘homes of origin’, focusing solely on geographic locality and the physical structure of a house. Since ‘home’ has been equated with property, property restitution has been associated with the fulfilment of the right to return to one’s original home. Programming and funding were thus directed primarily at restitution and reconstruction processes. This neglected the idea of ‘home’ as not only a physical place of residence, but also a site of social and cultural relations and a place that provides well-being, opportunities and hope for the current and next generation (Jansen, 2006; Stefansson, 2006). What many Bosnians returned to was far removed from this. Old neighbours had disappeared. Tensions, deep resentments and residual fear within reshaped communities were widespread.  Employment and income-generating opportunities were sparse, discrimination against minority returnees prevalent and poverty rampant. These factors have hindered reintegration, an essential component of sustainable return.  Reintegration as defined by the UNHCR is the ‘universal enjoyment of full political, civil, economic, social and cultural rights’ (UNHCR, 2004: 5). In the absence of satisfactory international and national efforts to ameliorate this situation in BiH, difficulties persist.

The present unemployment rate in Bosnia and Herzegovina is estimated at around 40 percent. A recent UN Development Programme (UNDP) report on social exclusion states that approximately 50 percent of the population in both the Federation and RS live below the poverty line or are at risk of falling below it at any time. It also stresses that minority populations throughout the country are usually poorer. Minority populations experience discrimination in employment and the provision of public services. Social renewal is also lagging.  Ethnic divisions persist and are fuelled by nationalist leaders. The absence of jobs and prevalence of discrimination also exacerbates tensions, hindering reintegration of minority returnees and rendering national minorities some of the most socially excluded groups. Self-exclusion and alienation from interethnic social networks is also pervasive (UNDP, 2007). Segregation in ‘mixed’ communities – in schools, workplaces and social networks has prevented meaningful interaction across ethnic divides that could help transform relationships and rehumanise each group in the eyes of the other. In such a context, the recreation of ‘home’ was and is still considered by many refugees and displaced persons to be easier in a different location from the pre-war home. This sentiment has also been the case for many classified as returnees.

Over one million returns, of which 467,297 are minority returns, and a PLIP implementation rate of 93.3 percent are indeed remarkable statistics. However, decontextualized statistics hide much of the reality of the restitution process. In some cases, high restitution rates actually correspond with high rates of sale or exchange, instead of return (Philpott, 2005). Even where houses are not sold, official return statistics do not tell the full story. The Housing Verification and Monitoring Unit of OHR’s Reconstruction and Return Task Force (established in 1999) found that while about three-quarters of pre-war occupants return to their reconstructed houses, only a part of the family actually returns in a third of those cases. Elderly family members return permanently, whereas younger people and school-age children remain for purposes of employment and education in areas in which they are part of the majority (ICG, 2002). Another trend is ‘reverse returns,’ where returnees relocate back to their areas of displacement. Walter Kälin, representative of the UN secretary-general on the human rights of IDPs, has highlighted that the number of persons actually living in their pre-war homes is lower than return statistics suggest, as a large number of returnees have left again due to poor conditions (Kälin, 2005; see also UNHCR, 2007).

In an effort to demonstrate success in the implementation of the Dayton Peace Agreement and of peacebuilding in Bosnia and Herzegovina, the international community has preferred to emphasise reported returns. By over-looking the weak conditions for sustainable return and related developments such as consolidation of geographic ethnic divisions through the property sales market, the official return statistics gave instead the perception that the political objective of recreating the pre-war multiethnic map was materialising. This, in turn, served to validate the policy to push for return at the exclusion of other options.

The need for genuine durable solutions

Return is not a genuine durable solution if the conditions to make it sustainable are absent. Although housing restitution has been welcomed by refugees and IDPs for reasons of morality, justice and economic rehabilitation, sustainable return also requires access to jobs and livelihoods, social protection and renewed social relationships. The intense focus on restitution and the failure to address these other needs has rendered return untenable; and for many Bosnians, ‘sustainable relocation’ has become their desired option (Steffansson, 2006).

As this compromises the political project of reversing ethnic cleansing, the international community and subsequently the Bosnian government, have avoided providing support for the option of local integration in ethnic majority areas or resettlement. The treatment of these options as ‘taboo’, internationally and locally, has put the lives of many refugees and IDPs on hold for years.

There are still, as of June 2008, 125,000 registered IDPs – just over 10% of the million internally displaced by the conflict. Among these IDPs are many members of vulnerable groups: the elderly – who lack any source of income, minors, women – many of whom head households, and persons who are physically and mentally challenged, highly traumatised and/or chronically ill. Approximately 7,000 of these vulnerable IDPs still live in some form of sub-standard temporary collective accommodation. They live far below the poverty line at the margins of society.

Many of the 125,000 registered IDPs are unable or unwilling to return.  Over a decade and a half in displacement has rendered return an unrealistic option for them. For the most vulnerable, return is also not a viable option. The humanitarian plight of these IDPs has lead to increased calls by the UNHCR, the Council of Europe and Representative of the UN secretary-general on the human rights of IDPs, Walter Kälin, among others, for the Bosnian government and the international community to provide alternatives to return (Council of Europe, 2008 and 2009; Kälin, 2009; UNHCR, 2007). Internally displaced persons should be able to freely opt against return and to choose instead to integrate locally or build new lives elsewhere. Alongside, they should be provided with support for new permanent housing and decent living conditions that is not contingent on a decision to return.

There have also been numerous calls over the last few years to address the sustainability of return. Walter Kälin stressed after a recent visit to Bosnia that the success of the return process should be measured by the real opportunities available to returnees, particularly minority returnees, to rebuild their lives and reintegrate into society in their places of origin (Kälin, 2009).

The Revised Strategy for the Implementation of Annex 7 of the Dayton Peace Agreement, developed by the Ministry for Human Rights and Refugees in 2007-2008, seeks to address these concerns. Although it still focuses on facilitating people’s return to their original homes, it also emphasises the need to sustain those who have already returned and to provide alternative solutions for those still displaced and unable to return, in particular members of vulnerable groups. For the first time, compensation for property and integration of displaced persons are considered as options.

The formulation of this revised strategy is a crucial development. It gives prominence to humanitarian concerns and seeks to provide some choice to displaced persons, albeit cautiously. By moving away from the prior exclusive focus on housing reconstruction, it aims to address the problems and failures experienced on the ground.

The strategy has also been complemented with funding. In 2008, the Bosnian government provided an unprecedented amount of money (KM 38.8 million) to the Return Fund. This money is to be directed not only for housing, but also to create the conditions for sustainable return, in particular employment, education, health and social protection. The bigger test however, will be whether funding is provided by the government and by donors to support alternatives to return – in particular, for the normalisation of living conditions of IDPs in areas of displacement in which they form part of the majority group.

Conclusion

Ethnic cleansing should never be condoned. It is abhorrent, devastating and so destructive. This is why the international community had opposed the option of local integration. It feared that it would indirectly support and cement ethnic cleansing. This is also why integration has been such a sensitive issue within Bosnia and Herzegovina.

It is likely that under the current conditions in BiH, the option of integration and the provision of compensation, as well as the potential for continued sales in the housing market will indeed result in a consolidation of ethnic divisions. This does not sit right. It seems to allow the goals of the political and military leaders who orchestrated the war, and of nationalist leaders who continue to propagate these sentiments to succeed over the many who yearn for their previous way of life. It does feel like a failure. It signals the loss of an ideal so precious – the loss of a multicultural society in which different groups live in harmony.

The politicisation of a humanitarian process however, is also not acceptable. Refugees and displaced persons must not be instrumentalised for political objectives, regardless of what these objectives are.  This risk of politicisation is especially high where as in the case of BiH displacement itself was politicised at the outset as a deliberate strategy of the war. Durable solutions must be framed and maintained as strictly a humanitarian issue, and the choice between them must lie in the hands of refugees and displaced persons. Taking away this choice for political reasons deprives them yet again of the agency to decide where and how they want to live.

Additionally, where refugees and displaced persons have been able to decide against return, this should not be perceived negatively. It is easy in the context of a political and normative approach that favours return to fall into the trap of viewing such decisions critically. It is necessary to realise that there is nothing wrong with Bosnians who choose to live in their countries of asylum or in their areas of displacement, where they may be able to create a new sustainable ‘home’. Their decisions are rationale and based on necessity, and moreover – it is their right to make such a choice.

This does not mean that international agencies and the government should stop striving to create conditions that would allow for sustainable return. These conditions are still desperately needed for existing returnees, for refugees and displaced persons currently wishing to return, and for others who may later opt for return, should it come to represent a viable option.  For return to be a durable solution, it must be premised on a holistic notion of return and of ‘home’ – one that goes beyond property restitution and physical reconstruction and provides for economic opportunities, social protection and the (re)building of relationships.

The Revised Strategy, which provides hope for attention to durable solutions at the policy and operational level, was adopted in January 2009 by the Council of Ministers of Bosnia and Herzegovina. Its adoption by Parliament unfortunately has been held up for months, due to a political stalemate. The Serb representatives want the strategy to be amended to provide greater emphasis on helping people who wish to remain in their current place of residence; whereas Bosniak representatives want government financing to be directed almost exclusively to support for return (OHR, May 2009). The politics of the war and of post-war reconstruction are still being fought out. Despite some welcomed progress, politics still dominates the humanitarian framework at the expense of Bosnians struggling to re-establish their lives and yearning for some semblance of a ‘home’.

Fourteen years on, this is where we are. The politics must subside. It is time for genuine options and truly durable solutions. The well-being and lives of a vast number of Bosnians depends on it.

Huma Haider is a Research Fellow at the Governance and Social Development Resource Centre, University of Birmingham, UK.  The author worked in Bosnia and Herzegovina in 2007 at the War Crimes Chamber and conducted field research on issues of return in 2006.

Acknowledgment

I would like to thank Edin Hodžić (Puls demokratije, Open Society Fund, Bosnia and Herzegovina) for his interest in this research and for helping me think through the issues. An earlier version of this paper was published on the Puls demokratije site.

References

Council of Europe (2009).  Europe’s Forgotten People: Protection the Human Rights of Long-term Displaced Persons. Committee on Migration, Refugees and Population, Parliamentary Assembly, Council of Europe
http://assembly.coe.int/Documents/WorkingDocs/Doc09/EDOC11942.pdf

Council of Europe (2008). Report by the Commissioner for Human Rights, Mr. Thomas Hammarberg, on his Visit to Bosnia and Herzegovina. Commissioner for Human Rights, Council of Europe
https://wcd.coe.int/ViewDoc.jsp?id=1251561&Site=CommDH&BackColorInternet=FEC65B&BackColorIntranet=FEC65B&BackColorLogged=FFC679

ICG (2002). The Continuing Challenge of Refugee Return in Bosnia and Herzegovina. International Crisis Group, Sarajevo/Brussels, available at: http://repository.forcedmigration.org/show_metadata.jsp?pid=fmo:3680

IDMC (2009). Protracted Internal Displacement in Europe: Current Trends and Ways Forward. Internal Displacement Monitoring Centre, Geneva, available at:  http://www.internal-displacement.org/europe/protracted

Jansen, S. (2006). The Privatisation of Home and Hope: Return, Reforms and the Foreign Intervention in Bosnia-Herzegovina. Dialectical Anthropology 30, 177–199

Kälin, W. (2009). Report of the Representative of the Secretary-General on the Human Rights of Internally Displaced Persons, Walter Kälin, UN Doc. A/HRC/10/13, UN Human Rights Council, 9 Feburary, available at: http://www.unhcr.org/refworld/docid/49a55b102.html

Kälin, W. (2008). Guiding Principles on Internal Displacement, Annotations, 2nd Edition, available at:  http://www.asil.org/pdfs/stlp.pdf

Kälin, W. (2005). Specific Groups and Individuals: Mass Exoduses and Displaced Persons: Report of the Representative of the Secretary-General on the Human Rights of Internally Displaced Persons: Addendum: Mission to Bosnia and Herzegovina, UN Doc. E/CN.4/2006/71/Add.4, 29 December, available at: http://www.hrcompilation.org/documents/851/811/document/en/pdf/text.pdf

OHR (2009). Thirty-fifth Report of the High Representative for Bosnia and Herzegovina: 1 November 2008-30 April 2009. Report to UNSC, 21 May, available at: http://www.ohr.int/other-doc/hr-reports/default.asp?content_id=43537

Philpott, C. (2005). Though the Dog Is Dead, the Pig Must Be Killed: Finishing with Property Restitution in Bosnia Herzegovina,’ Journal of Refugee Studies 18(1), 1–24.

Rosand, E. (1998). The Right to Return Under International Law Following Mass Dislocation: The Bosnia Precedent?’ Michigan Journal of International Law 19, 1091–1140.

Stefansson, A. H. (2006). Homes in the Making: Property Restitution, Refugee Return, and Senses of Belonging in a Post-war Bosnian Town. International Migration, 44(3), pp. 115-137

Tuathail, G. O. and Dahlman, C. (2005). Has Ethnic Cleansing Succeeded? Geographies of Minority Return and its Meaning in Bosnia-Herzegovina’, Chapter submitted for the proceedings of Dayton – Ten Years After: Conflict Resoluton, Co-operation Perspectives, 29 November – 2 December, Sarajevo, available at:
http://www.nvc.vt.edu/toalg/Website/Publish/Papers/ToalDahlmanEthnicCleansingSucceeded.pdf

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http://www.unhcr.org/411786694.html
United Nations Principles on Housing and Property Restitution for Refugees and Displaced Persons (The Pinheiro Principles), available at: http://www.cohre.org/store/attachments/Pinheiro%20Principles.pdf

Background

The concept of interviewing the constituents of the ever changing landscape of laws and policies designed to address violence against women seems to be unheard of in Afghanistan and certainly under-utilized in the international development context. Asking the population most affected by institutional, government and judicial reforms is surprisingly a mechanism not popular among the international experts drawn upon to assist in rebuilding the country. This strategy is a departure from the norm, which typically is driven and informed by international experts and outside perspectives and experiences that are transferred and applied to international development work.

International development work in Afghanistan is at an all-time high, with unprecedented numbers of consultants, experts, international organizations and for-profit development firms implementing projects across the country in attempts to stabilize and rebuild society and rule of law. One area that has received recent media attention is the issue of women’s rights in Afghanistan in a post-Taliban era. Popular news stories have covered the grassroots movement that has resulted in women’s shelters cropping up in Kabul and some of other provinces. These women’s shelters, run by NGO’s such as Women for Afghan Women, provide shelter and food to women who are forced to flee their homes and families often due to unimaginable violence and abuse.

Violence against women in Afghanistan is a pervasive and deeply rooted problem, embedded in cultural norms, customs and harmful traditional practices that include rape, “honor” killings, baad[1], forced and early marriage, domestic violence and violence in public life.[2] Crimes of violence against women have not, in practice, been viewed as crimes at all; they have not been pursued by the authorities, not investigated by police or prosecutors, and not prosecuted for violating the law. Until the creation of the VAW Unit, the Attorney General’s Office of Afghanistan had not kept statistics for crimes of violence against women, and crimes such as rape and domestic or sexual assault and forced marriage are noticeable absent from the National Crime Statistics Unified Report for 2006-2007.[3]

Women who are active in the public sphere are in great danger for working to end violence against women. Sitara Achakzai, a Kandahar Provincial Council member was killed in April of 2009, Malala Kakar, a high ranking female police officer was killed in September of 2008, and Sofia Amajan, head of the Women’s Affairs Department in Kandahar was murdered in 2006. While women and girls are bravely going to school and running for public office, giving hope to future generations that fundamental human rights will equally apply to women in Afghanistan, the killers of these women and of the many other Afghan women and girls who courageously step out of the shadows to transform their country are not being brought to justice.

Afghan criminal law outlines acts of violence against women which are criminal offenses; however they are rarely prosecuted or punished. In fact, due to entrenched cultural beliefs about the status of women as property, women victims are often punished instead of the perpetrators. This is evidenced by the large numbers of women who are in prison for running away from home or for adultery (which is often a rape case that lacked enough evidence to prosecute the male offender), as the justice system typically does not distinguish adultery from rape, even in the case of the victim.

Recognizing the need for a concentrated effort to investigate and prosecute crimes of violence against women, the Attorney General’s Office of the Islamic Republic of Afghanistan partnered with the international community to create a Violence Against Women Unit. The VAW Unit included specially chosen and trained prosecutors who would take these cases seriously and follow the letter of the law from initiating an investigation through sentencing, without succumbing to bribes or cultural excuses to mitigate violence against women. The success of the VAW Unit, however, will depend on the ability to be accessible to the women who are victims of violence. Thus, efforts to make the justice system accessible to women victims of violence was a critical part of planning the VAW Unit by informing the design, policies, practices and protocols of the Unit.

The focus group that is the subject of this article was arranged as part of a planning process to establish a specialized Violence Against Women (VAW) Unit within the Attorney General’s Office of Afghanistan. The importance of using this group forum to achieve information from women victims of violence can not be understated; women victims of violence in Afghanistan are largely invisible, thrown away, forgotten, maltreated, blamed, and considered to be tainted or “bad” women. By bringing their voice into the process of system reform, the technique emphasizes empowerment and strength – it tells the women that they have something to contribute and that their perspective matters.

The experiences of women victims of violence, particularly those currently residing in shelter, were critical to understanding what parts of the justice system needed to be changed and in what ways. Specifically two objectives were intended to help guide the formation of the dedicated Violence Against Women Unit: to identify women victims’ of violence perceptions of the formal criminal justice response, and to collect narratives about women’s experiences of violence and the formal system responses to crimes against women.[4]

Methodology

The focus group was organized in a traditional fashion; participants were gathered in a large group room at the shelter where they were given an overview of the confidentiality of information shared, the purpose and objectives of the focus group, how the information gathered in the focus group would be used, and a series of open-ended questions related to their experiences, needs and perceptions. A total of 28 women participated in the focus group, from a variety of backgrounds and experiences, including women from different geographic areas within and outside Afghanistan. They also represented a spectrum of ages and a broad range of experiences as victims of violence.[5]

Throughout the focus group, women openly expressed their perceptions of police, prosecutors and other institutions involved in addressing violence against women. During the course of the focus group I was careful to ask follow up questions to narrow participants’ responses to their experiences and perceptions of prosecutors specifically, as the purpose of the group was to impact and inform the responses and policies of the specialized Violence Against Women Unit within the Office of the Attorney General. To bring the voices of the victims of violence into the planning process for this innovative unit that, in theory, was supposed to meet their needs; but in reality the Violence Against Women Unit was simply something that was a necessary requirement [6] under the National Justice Sector Strategy of Afghanistan.[7]

Results

The results of the focus group revealed some common perceptions and experiences about system and community responses to violence against women. These perceptions were informed by the participants’ real experiences, and in their words one could see the struggle and frustration in seeking justice in an unstable and transitional environment. Below is a summary of focus group participants’ responses divided into three themes: Prosecution of the Perpetrators of Violence, Prosecution and Blaming of Victims, Attempts to Seek Assistance through Other Mechanisms.

1. Prosecution of the Perpetrators of Violence

Among the participants, almost no one reported that the person responsible for the violence was investigated or prosecuted by the authorities. Most women reported seeking help from either the police or Ministry of Women’s Affairs but that the perpetrators of violence were pursued as a result of their cases.

One woman reported that her father used to beat her, tie her hands and feet and lock her in a room. He then sold her to a man who also beat her and abused her. She stated that she fled to Kabul because in the past she had gone to a police station in her own area but they returned her to her father, where she suffered a greater beating. In Kabul, she made her way to the Ministry of Women’s Affairs however, once there she was accused of lying. She reported that it has now been four years since she fled the violence and as far as she knows, nothing has ever happened with her case.[8]

“They never cared about my case and always when I asked them they said there is nothing we can do and you have to stay in here. It is now four years that ministry of women affairs has my case and I am still in the shelter, they are not taking care of my case and they are not working for us.”

Another woman, who reported that she fled her home after suffering serious violence at the hands of her brother-in-law and mother-in-law, sought assistance after a neighbor told her about the Ministry of Women’s Affairs. However, those who beat her were never punished.

“Now it is almost 4 year and a half and I am still in the shelter…, in the ministry of women affairs they didn’t care about my case and they didn’t follow it up and they said that we can’t send your case to court since my husband is missing and court will not process divorce in the absence of my husband.”

More than one participant spoke of forced marriage as the result of baad[9] and the violence surrounding these cases that caused them to flee to the shelter. Their cases did not result in an investigation or prosecution of the husbands or fathers who engaged in this illegal practice.

“I also insist that there should be a way to stop or at least decrease the number of baad and badal[10] cases, the criminals who commit these crimes should be introduced to court and be punished by the court so no one dare to commit these kind of crimes again.”

Most of the women reported seeking a divorce after fleeing a violent situation or forced marriage, however they reported feeling that the system did not respond to their wishes to prosecute those who are violent towards them or to expedite the process to allow them to separate from their abuser.

“The prosecutors make the process long and they took so much long time to present a case to court. Our husbands should be in detention centers at least for one week or two weeks, so then they would know and learn from their mistakes…”

Overall there was a generalized perception that those who commit violence against women are not investigated, prosecuted or punished. In fact, all participants reported feeling that they themselves were blamed for the violence.

“We all want to see the criminals to suffer and to be punished and we want the Ministry of Women Affairs to take our cases seriously and give us our rights.”

2. Prosecution and Blaming of Victims

Almost universally the women reported being blamed or arrested themselves for escaping the violence.

“The criminal[11] should also be arrested and there should be justice.”

“They way we suffer they should also suffer. They should know and pay for their bad behaviors. They are the one who should be blamed not us, why do they always blame us?”

“We hope that one day they suffer the way that we do.”

“When we escape from the house, we are not escaping because we want to, but we escape because they leave us no choice. And if we could solve our problem inside the house we would never escape or do something like that, we would already solve our problem by our own in the house. And if we escape why does the society blame us and act as though we are the criminals. And the real person who did this all and who is the one who should be blamed is free and the society respects him.

Multiple women mentioned feeling that prosecutors did not act with sensitivity towards them, and the participants spoke of their perception of corruption within the formal system in cases of violence against women. Overall this was consistent with all participants’ lack of confidence in the system responses to crimes against women.

“In our society the only thing that works are either money or knowing someone who is in the high position. They don’t care about the truth and about the justice they only care about the money and high society friends that they have.”

“Prosecutors that prosecute us are always behaving badly and blaming us for what happened to us and not caring to arrest those who commit the crime. And most of them ask for the money and they don’t listen to us.”

One woman expressed her believe that even when a criminal case is brought, the prosecutors and the court do not believe the victim and it is difficult to prove the violence occurred.

“When the cases go to prosecutors they usually take side of the criminals and they defend them, and in the court also the judges blame us and take the side of our husbands. The court doesn’t believe us and asks for the witnesses and we can’t find any witness because no one from our husband’s family or relatives want to come and say something against them.”

One woman who reported that she was kidnapped and raped, and then forced to marry her husband, fled her home to the shelter. She currently has a criminal case, but it appeared to be against her for running away, rather than against her husband for the rape and kidnapping.

“My husband kidnapped me on the way to school and then raped me and then married me. When I asked for the support from my family he told everyone that I was the one who ran away with him and everybody trusted him, including my family. And they didn’t care about me and what I was saying, no one heard my voice, everybody blamed me for what happened to me. And now in the court the judges do the same to me, they blame me because I don’t have any witnesses. Whatever the prosecutor and my husband say in court the judges believe and they even don’t care about what I say!”

3. Attempts to Seek Assistance Through Other Mechanisms

Participants were asked if they had sought assistance from other mechanisms before leaving their homes, specifically if they tried to address the violence through the traditional or informal justice system. This is particularly relevant given today’s emphasis on strengthening and validating traditional dispute resolution mechanisms in transitioning and post-conflict environments. In this focus group, many women reported seeking assistance from their families, elders and jirgas but with no success.

“I went to the jirga and had all the family members together but they couldn’t solve the problem. And then I went to my parents’ house because my husband kept beating me. And then one day he came to my parents’ house as well and took me out and started to beat me and that was when I escaped from him and came to Kabul.”

“The Jirga couldn’t solve the problem that is why I am in the shelter now.”

“They Jirga also usually takes the men’s side and don’t hear us.”

Women generally reported that running away was a last resort; after all other options had been explored with no success at stopping the violence. They expressed their belief that the only option that remained was to escape the violence and seek assistance from the formal civil and criminal justice systems, through the attorneys representing them in divorce matters and criminal cases filed with the Ministry of Women’s Affairs.

“Why do people think that girls who are running away cause a bad reputation and bad image to the family? People should know it is not our choice but we have no other way!”

Discussion

As recent as 2009, the United Nations Assistance Mission to Afghanistan and the Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights reported that the human rights of women in Afghanistan are still largely ignored, and that violence is “closely linked to a deeply entrenched culture of impunity that is, in part, an outcome of decades of conflict and indifference to a justice agenda that would also allow for a transition from, and draw a line under, a long history of egregious human rights violations.”[12] The situation for women in Afghanistan is not improving. Despite nine years of international presence and development work, the safety of half the population remains at grave risk of violence because the transitional government has failed to address the human rights of women. Even more disturbing is the lack of voice and agency that women victims of violence have in informing reform initiatives and government responses, however minimal, (to international pressure and presence) to violence against women.

Any practitioner, lawyer, social worker or gender justice “expert” working in Afghanistan would find it immeasurably frustrating to recognize the enormous gap between law and practice, between rights in theory and actualization of rights, between policy and custom as they pertain to women’s human right to live a life free from violence, and between the international and national system players and the voice of the community of women they are mandated to serve.

On the face, progress and on-paper commitments have been made. The Constitution of Afghanistan secures gender equality[13], Afghanistan is a party to the Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women as well as other international instruments, and recently the President signed the Eliminating Violence Against Women (EVAW) law.[14] However, despite these advancements, women in Afghanistan are still suffering numerous human rights abuses in the form of gender-based violence. Additionally, the perspectives of women are noticeably absent in process of institutional reform and in helping to shape system responses to the very human rights issues that affect them.

The results of the focus group illustrate the chasm between law and practice in Afghanistan when it comes to violence against women. The experiences heard through their words make real the need for continued improvement of the formal justice system, and most specifically in making it accessible and effective in meaningfully meeting the needs of women victims of violence.

Recommendations

This focus group of women victims of violence was designed to provide space for the voices of women victims of violence to be heard, and to inform future policies and practices on violence against women in Afghanistan. The following recommendations for institutional reforms were made by focus group participants to improve victim satisfaction with the criminal justice process.

A. Recommendations to Inform the Prosecution of the Perpetrators of Violence

Many women reported being afraid of prosecutors and feeling blamed for the violence. When asked about the prosecution of perpetrators of violence, participants in the focus group stressed the importance of developing a system whereby prosecutors:

• Focus their efforts on the men who are violent and prosecuting them
• Ask more questions to get at the facts about the violence
• Punish those who are violent or practice illegal acts (i.e. baad) in order to set an example and assist in the overall reduction of violence and illegal practices
• Seek to resolve cases better and in a short amount of time, without susceptibility to corruption and bribery

B. Recommendations to Address the Practice of Victim Prosecution

The responses women got when seeking assistance overwhelmingly was that they (the women themselves) were prosecuted or blamed for the violence from members of both the formal and informal justice system. Participants reported that they were either arrested for running away form home and jailed or blamed for what happened to them. This blame was reported by participants as manifested throughout the process, from the police response when seeking assistance, to the attitude by the prosecutor investigating the case, to the relevant Ministries designed to assist them with problems. With respect to prosecuting the victims of violence, participants stressed the importance of designing policies whereby prosecutors:

• Focus on the person who committed the actual violence/crime
• Cease the practice of arresting a victim who runs away from violence
• Develop the skills and attitudes necessary for victim-sensitive responses and investigation techniques
• Pursue and investigate the criminals who perpetrate violence against women

C. Recommendations Informed by Women’s Attempts to Seek Assistance through Other Mechanisms

Many women reported seeking assistance with ending the violence through their families, elders, jirgas[15], and the Ministry of Women’s Affairs. While their stories and the exact nature of their situations all varied, universally the women reported that if the violence could have been solved through other means it would have. This is particularly important for internationals working with the formal system responses to violence against women, as it demonstrates that this is a system of last resort; the final stop. Specifically, in relation to the victim-blaming for leaving home, women reported that if the problem of violence could have be solved through their own efforts or the efforts of these other mechanisms it would have been done. Additionally, most participants did not report having a positive experience seeking assistance through the government institutions. Despite the changing landscape and new initiatives such as the Ministry of Women’s Affairs, the new Family Response Units within the police department and the presence of a wide international community preparing legislation designed to combat violence against women. With respect to attempts to seek assistance through other mechanisms the participants stressed the importance of:

• Prosecutors understanding that often all other avenues to resolve the violence have been tried and exhausted by the victim
• Ministry of Women’s Affairs and other government institutions responding to women victims of violence in a non-blaming manner
• Jirgas referring cases to the proper government authorities[16] and formal justice system
• All formal mechanisms seeking to resolve cases in a more expedient and timely fashion

D. Author’s Recommendations

There are several additional recommendations this paper proposes for strengthening the formal system response to violence against women. Specifically, improved coordination among the various pieces of the justice system (i.e. police, prosecutors, judges) is a necessary next step in improving women’s access to justice in Afghanistan. An additional area for exploration is the creation of specialized courts to address violence against women, which have begun emerging across the globe[17] and are supported by the same principles of specialized police and prosecutor units to best address these culturally complex crimes. A third recommendation is to increase the use of focus groups of communities affected by development work, in order to best inform institutional reforms and meet the needs of those affected by said reforms. Finally, and perhaps most importantly, increased and ongoing communication and coordination between civil society sector NGO’s and VAW Unit would greatly strengthen the formal justice system response to violence against women. NGO’s, shelters, women’s organization and civil legal aid organizations are working directly with women victims of violence, thus hearing their voices and using their experiences to guide practice and system responses would provide opportunities to continue improving women’s access to justice in Afghanistan.

Conclusion

This paper provides insight into the benefits of utilizing focus groups to inform institutional reform to address violence against women in the international development context. It also highlights the critical issue of violence against women in Afghanistan by providing a forum for their voice and experiences to be heard. Focus groups are a useful research tool that provides a forum for participants’ voices to be heard and transform practice, which is vital in environments where certain groups are marginalized or have limited access to public life. This is particularly true in the context of Afghanistan, where half of the country’s population has minimal opportunity to participate in public life and where crimes against women proceed with impunity.

The participants in this focus group, victims of violence against women, reported that they used every means available to resolve the violence, including appealing to their families and local jirgas, before resorting to running away. They tried to make their voice heard. However, when seeking assistance from police, prosecutors and Ministry of Women’s Affairs, women reported that the perpetrators of violence against them were not punished and that they, the victims, were blamed for the violence and for running away.

As illustrated by the voices of the women recorded here, women victims of violence face great challenges and until the formal and informal systems hear them and respond to their real needs, these systems, however transitional, will fail to work for them. The creation of the Violence Against Women Unit within the Attorney Genera’s Office of the Islamic Republic of Afghanistan was a monumental leap forward to providing access to justice to women victims of violence. By continuing the hold focus groups in the international development context the voices of marginalized communities can play an important role in helping to guide reconstruction and reform. A number of institutional changes are recommended in this report that would further assist women victims of violence in accessing justice and instill a greater sense of confidence and public trust in the criminal justice system as a whole.[18]

Acknowledgements

The author wishes to acknowledge the brave women who participated in this focus group, as without their generosity we would not have had the privilege to learn from their experience; everyone at Women for Afghan Women; and Lailuma Nasiri, the quietly strong and brilliant Gender Project Officer who made everything possible.

[1] Baad refers to the practice of trading women as compensatory damages in disputes among families.

[2] Human Rights, United Nations Assistance Mission in Afghanistan, Kabul. Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights, Geneva. SILENCE IS VIOLENCE: End the Abuse of Women in Afghanistan, 8 July, 2009.

[3] Attorney General’s National Crime Statistics Unified Report, www.ago.gov.af/CONTENT/CrimStat/NationalCriStat/NationalCrimeStisticsEng.html

[4] Participants in the focus group were identified through a national NGO serving Women in Afghanistan called Women for Afghan Women (WAW), and included women residing in a confidential women’s shelter located in Kabul.

[5] All identifying information has been changed or removed in order to protect the identities of the participants.

[6] The Attorney General’s Office of Afghanistan, under the National Justice Sector Strategy, is committed to establish the country’s first specialized Violence Against Women prosecution unit.

[7] National Justice Sector Strategy (NJSS), Islamic Republic of Afghanistan, Afghanistan National Development Strategy, 2008.

[8] Participants often referred to their “cases” as meaning both or either the criminal and civil cases, there was limited distinction made by participants between divorce cases and criminal prosecutions against them or the perpetrator of violence.

[9] See footnote 2.

[10] Badal refers to the traditional practice of trading a girl from one family for a girl in another family for the purposes of marriages, particularly in cases where families lack the funds to pay a bride price for their sons to get married.

[11] Referring to her husband who she says perpetrated violence against her.

[12] Human Rights, United Nations Assistance Mission in Afghanistan Kabul and the Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Human Rights Geneva, Silence is Violence: End the Abuse of Women in Afghanistan, July 8, 2009.

[13] Constitution of the Islamic Republic of Afghanistan, 2003, Article 22, Chapter 2, Article 1 states “The citizens of Afghanistan – whether man or woman – have equal rights and duties before the law.”

[14] Eliminating Violence Against Women, published in the Ministry of Justice Official Gazette, August 2009

[15] Jirgas are a form of traditional dispute resolution based on customary law

[16] Participants reported that often jirgas will not take a case or if taken, will blame the victim for the violence.

[17] Specialized courts to address domestic violence cases exist in the United States, Canada, United Kingdom and Australia, specialized courts to address sexual assault cases exist in the United States and South Africa, and recently Liberia created a specialized Gender Court to coordinate with their specialized violence against women unit within the prosecutor’s office.

[18] A full copy of the Focus Group Report was distributed to the Head of the newly established Violence Against Women Unit at the Attorney General’s Office in Afghanistan, along with copies for all prosecutors assigned to the specialized VAW Unit, with hope that the voices of the women would be heard by those given the new responsibility and international credibility of responding to violence against women cases.

If I were not stopped short by poverty, I would travel far from here, to a country where I would go to school all week long, and play soccer on a nice grassy field, and where no one would want to mistrust me and kill me, ever again.

- Cassius Niyonsaba,Genocide survivor, Rwanda. Extract from ‘Life Laid Bare’ by Jean Hatzfeld.

I think that having the option to settle outside Rwanda would be one of the greatest gifts that any concerned people or country can give to Rwandan genocide survivors. Even 15 years after the genocide, many survivors today still live in fear that they will be the next victims of those people who killed their families in 1994 and now see them as the only remaining witnesses to their heinous and inhumane crimes. In addition to offering protection from the physical danger that survivors currently live in, giving genocide survivors the option to resettle outside of Rwanda would eliminate the psychological wounds that many continue to suffer living next door to the people who killed their families in 1994 and being constant targets of their harassment and taunting.

- Genocide survivor, Rwanda. (Email, August 18, 2009)

Psychologically it is very difficult to deal with this idea that we have to live with our killers. I passed a big part of my life after genocide in Kigali, far from my native city and was always afraid. I know that in the village, survivors are neighbors with the killers. It’s too much for survivors and for me this is a new way to abandon survivors a second time in their solitude of genocide, in their nightmare.

-Genocide survivor, Canada (Email, August 17, 2009)

…Some of these men and women [genocide survivors] would choose, if they had an option, to live without this constant challenge, if they could be in a new place, where they could mourn privately, cry it out and start a whole new life with whole new opportunities, of course with new challenges but not necessarily connected to genocide…

-Genocide survivor, Rwanda. (Email, August 13, 2009)

Psychological and Social Challenges Genocide Survivors Face and Violations of their Human Rights

Genocide survivors in Rwanda have great difficulty receiving refugee status and right of asylum to allow them to settle outside of the country. The standard reply that they receive when making queries about the possibility of immigrating to Europe, Canada, or the United States is that there is no longer persecution on the basis of ethnicity in Rwanda, and thus there is no legal merit to their request. It is true that there is no government sanctioned persecution on the basis of ethnicity in Rwanda today. However, social persecution, discrimination, marginalization, threats, and intimidation towards survivors of the 1994 genocide of the Tutsi prevail on a popular level amongst many Rwandans. Genocide survivors are targeted for physical and psychological torture and have been attacked and killed in various parts of the country.[i] Fifteen years after the genocide many lack physical and psychological security.[ii] (SURF Survivor’s Fund Annual Report, 2008)

For many survivors, remaining in Rwanda post-genocide poses insurmountable obstacles to their psychological health and well being. They are subject to flashbacks and continuous retraumatization. Many find themselves trapped in the fears prompted by their experiences, the sadness and pain, and the wounds that cannot heal because justice is so incomplete and because thousands of the perpetrators of the genocide have been freed leaving survivors feeling vulnerable and despondent that justice is not and will not be done.[iii]

All the years I have passed in Rwanda after surviving were not easy in many ways. All my world before the genocide was destroyed. I felt like a foreigner in my own country. The majority of suvivors, if not all were in emptiness of life. But for all loved ones we lost during the genocide we were called to be strong, for their memory, for history, for the future and for ourselves. I did my best, but one thing persists in my mind which reduces my efforts for surviving: in Rwanda, I’m always afraid. I like my country so much, I’m so attached to its vegetation, its hills, its climate, its beauty. But it’s not easy to enjoy all these when I think that among people whom I met on my way, there are some killers. When I return in my native city, I’m very frustrated while I meet those who were our neighbors, who participated in the genocide or who were just silent while my parents and friends were killed. I can’t stay in that city more than a day. The flashbacks come quickly while there. And then I remember everything.[iv] (Email, August 17, 2009.)

Long after genocide has ended, genocide survivors live with its consequences on a daily basis and its legacy impedes their ability to rebuild their lives.

The United Nations General Assembly has passed several resolutions acknowledging the vulnerabilities of Rwandan genocide survivors and the responsibility of the United Nations and its member states to assist and protect them. On December 25, 2005 the UN General Assembly passed Resolution 60/225, entitled, “Assistance to Survivors of the 1994 Genocide in Rwanda, Particularly Orphans, Widows, and Victims of Sexual Violence.”[v] This resolution was a reaffirmation of previous resolutions similarly calling for concrete actions to improve the quality of life of genocide survivors and ensure that their human rights are honored. Resolution 60/225 refers to resolution 59/137 of December 10, 2004 which requested that the Secretary General, “…encourage relevant agencies, funds, and programmes of the United Nations system to continue working with the Government of Rwanda to develop and implement programmes aimed at supporting vulnerable groups that continue to suffer from the effects of the 1994 genocide”.[vi] It expressed solidarity with genocide survivors and urged greater efforts to enable them to access and realize their human rights. It called upon UN member states to “provide assistance to genocide survivors and other vulnerable groups in Rwanda” and recognized “the numerous difficulties faced by survivors of the 1994 genocide in Rwanda, particularly the orphans, widows, and victims of sexual violence, who are poorer and more vulnerable as a result of the genocide.”[vii] The United Nations General Assembly voted again, for a third time, to endorse these previous statements on December 22, 2009.[viii]

Granting Right of Refuge and Resettlement to Genocide Survivors

As one way of actualizing both the content and spirit of these resolutions, member states of the UN in a position to accept genocide survivors for resettlement should enable genocide survivors to do so. In particular, the countries of the European Union, the United States and Canada should take the lead on these efforts. They are all positioned to accept refugees and all share responsibility for their failure to act to prevent the genocide, to stop the genocide once it started, and to assist genocide survivors once it ended. There are approximately 400,000 genocide survivors living in Rwanda today.[ix] Not all wish to resettle outside of Rwanda. Some have found themselves able to rebuild their lives and wish to remain in Rwanda. This is particularly true for those genocide survivors who have been able to access education and work opportunities, and who have been able to settle away from the communities in which they were persecuted and in Kigali, where they generally feel safer than in the countryside. But only a small number of genocide survivors have had these opportunities, and for most they are simply economically unfeasible. Still, for many survivors, remaining in Rwanda is too much to bear.

Many wish to settle outside of the country. The psychological scars that they carry are constantly exacerbated by being forced to live in close proximity to genocide perpetrators, tens of thousands of whom have been released from prison or received amnesties because the Rwandan government cannot afford to incarcerate them and has chosen to release them to promote ‘reconciliation.’[x] As one genocide survivor explained, “When I think of going back to live in Rwanda, it simply sounds to me as a nightmare. Psychologically I can’t stand living in the same villages with neighbors who killed all my family members and siblings.” (Email, August 17, 2009.) International human rights law should reflect and respect the human rights of genocide survivors. As it stands, there are no legally binding instruments that enable genocide survivors to claim asylum by virtue of having survived genocide and seeking to live away from their former persecutors and away from the society that betrayed them so violently.

At the very least, such a change to international law should provide a mechanism that guarantees right of resettlement to the most vulnerable and impoverished genocide survivors and to those coming from countries in which genocide was so wide-scale and wide spread that there is no place where they can settle that will not potentially compromise their psychological health and ability to rebuild their lives. It could take the form of a United Nations treaty or convention, an amendment to the UN 1948 Convention on the Prevention and Punishment of Genocide, or a resolution of the United Nations Security Council. International law takes years to develop and any effort to codify into current laws the rights of genocide survivors to asylum would doubtlessly be subject to lengthy negotiations and delays. Because it will likely take years of deliberations to amend international law and there may be little desire to do so, an alternative for the short term ought to be created: a voluntary program of resettlement for genocide survivors organized by nations willing to accept them as immigrants for humanitarian reasons.

Practical Challenges

The most practical way of initiating the process of providing genocide survivors with immigration rights is through partnership with the organizations founded and run by genocide survivors themselves to promote the rights and well being of genocide survivors. In Rwanda three of the main organizations providing services to large numbers of genocide survivors are: AVEGA which focuses on providing care for widows and female genocide survivors, Ibuka which serves as an umbrella organization that unites and coordinates all organizations providing support and advocating for genocide survivors, and AOCM, the association for orphans who survived the genocide. Together with the Rwandan government, a program for the resettlement of those genocide survivors who choose to live outside of Rwanda for reasons of personal safety and/or psychological health and well-being can be developed and implemented. It need not necessarily involve the United Nations nor must it be coordinated by a centralized bureaucratic structure which would only slow down the process of resettlement. Rather, each country that is able and willing to accept genocide survivors as immigrants, in whatever amount, can directly communicate this with the Rwandan government and the aforementioned genocide survivor organizations who would arrange the implementation of the immigration. They would match genocide survivors with the countries in which they wish to settle and in which they are most likely to acclimate with minimal difficulty due to criteria such as knowledge of the local language, relatives already living there, and other such factors that can ease resettlement. The rights and responsibilities of resettled genocide survivors would not necessarily fall under the category of ordinary asylum seekers/refugees and would need to be negotiated between the Rwandan government, genocide survivors and the organizations representing them, and the countries accepting them for resettlement.

The total number of potential survivors wishing to immigrate stands at roughly 400,000 individuals, although a significantly smaller number will likely seek to resettle outside of Rwanda. Immigration will likely need to be staggered over the course of several years. It is likely, also, that some countries such as the United States and Canada may choose to accept a disproportionate amount of genocide survivors as immigrants because of already well established Rwandan communities and a high demonstrated ability to absorb immigrants successfully and integrate them into society. Again, these decisions will need to be made on a state level and then negotiated in relation to the overall effort so that immigration is coordinated and no country accepts more survivors than it can successfully absorb. Survivors should be settled in large enough numbers that they can create their own support networks and build strong communities. Ideally then they would be settled in two or three cities in each country. In the United States, for example, 50,000 Somalians settled in Minneapolis, and were able in this way to build a community that would empower Somalians coming to the United States with few resources, minimal language skills, and a significant cultural gap. The same should be done for Rwandan immigrants so they are not scattered in small communities across the country without the possibility of intensive mutual support.

Every effort should be made to provide the survivors who experience the greatest vulnerability by remaining in Rwanda the opportunity to immigrate. However, this criterion will need to be balanced with pragmatic concern for their ability to transition to a drastically different society and culture and to acquire the skills needed to become financially independent. In terms of differentiating amongst the survivors, I recommend setting practical criteria for who would stand to benefit the most from immigration rights and be able to become economically self-sufficient within a reasonable period of time. Most likely teenage survivors and survivors in their twenties-forties would stand to benefit the most and best be able to take advantage of the opportunities offered by immigration to a Western country, both in terms of work and education. But wherever possible, they should be allowed to immigrate with surviving relatives, including older individuals – as transitioning to a new society without the support of what remains of one’s family is exceedingly difficult. Immigration of survivors should not cause families that have already suffered from loss and destabilization due to the genocide to be further fragmented.

Trauma of Genocide Survivors and the Positive Impact of Resettlement on Survivors

The testimony of Rwandan genocide survivors who have had the opportunity to resettle abroad reveals how this has enabled them to rebuild their lives and has restored their faith in the future. It indicates that resettlement is one pathway to rehabilitation and restorative justice for Rwandan genocide survivors.

Here in Canada, my adoption country, slowly by slowly I feel better. Sometimes, I’m afraid, but it is easy to be calm just when I ask myself: «Calm down, you’re not in Rwanda». Here, I’m rebuilding my life, with others in another society, with new friends. At the same time, I give my contribution to my two countries. Here I can have dreams, life projects in middle or long term, what was not necessarily easy while I was in Rwanda. Even if I had some projects in Rwanda, I was not sure if I will be in life tomorrow. (Email, August 17, 2009.)

Another survivor states,

My staying in North America has enabled me to recover from the bad memories since I live far away from where the genocide happened. On the other hand I feel very sorry for other survivors who stayed there, since they are under a serious threat of the genocide suspects and those who were released without judgment. (Email, August 17, 2009.)

For survivors the memory of the genocide is always fresh, it haunts them and living in Rwanda they have no respite from it. Because the genocide took place in almost every part of the country and on such a massive scale the presence of death and of evil, the reminder of the innocents killed is permanent, constant, and relentless. There is no place within Rwanda where a survivor can retreat to and feel him or herself far from the genocide. Wherever they may go in the country, in addition to their particular individual memories of the genocide they are confronted by the remains of the hundreds of thousands of others who were killed for being Tutsi.

Although some genocide survivors appreciate certain aspects of the communal justice system established by the Rwandan government, known as gacaca, many critique its leniency vociferously on both moral and practical grounds. The gacaca system enables genocide perpetrators to be freed with generally short prison sentences and sometimes no prison sentences at all, if confession is made and community service is done. Many survivors explain that the burden of reconciliation is placed on them, that they are asked and sometimes demanded to forgive perpetrators, and face enormous social pressures to do so and social ostracism, intimidation, and threats if they do not. They doubt the sincerity of perpetrators who claim in gacaca courts to have rejected their past actions, but who often make these statements simply as practical means to ensure a minimal prison sentence and freedom. They fear the perpetrators who are being released from prison, some of whom go on to kill genocide survivors. And they feel fundamentally alienated from their own land because of this combination of physical and psychological insecurity, and loss of faith in the willingness of the justice system to hold genocide perpetrators fully accountable for their murderous actions.

The consequences of the Genocide against Tutsis did not end when the killings stopped. Many of us still live with open wounds that are made even more painful by the indifference and non- repentance of those who carried out this genocide. While thousands marvel at the progress made in our country over the last 15 years, for so many of us, every street corner, a growing bush, every river, any given forest, brings back the memories of brutal murders and those of being hunted like an animal by your own neighbors of then and now. While for so much time, I have wanted to forgive, and for even a few moments, I am tempted to forget, the longing and hard struggle to achieve a reconciliation with those Rwandans who murdered and vanquished my loved ones; I am simply too close to the situation. I can still feel the pain they have inflicted me and they have no remorse or regret for what they have done. (Email, August 17, 2009.)

As these testimonies show, there is a strong demand and need for an alternative living arrangement for genocide survivors.

Survivors continue to insist that perpetrators of the genocide be punished for their crimes as a matter of justice, deterrence, and a break with the impunity of the past in which under a Hutu supremacist regime from 1959 – 1994 the murder of Tutsis was condoned and enabled by the government. Massacres of Tutsis took place frequently, roughly every ten years, and tens of thousands of innocent Tutsis, civilians, were murdered because of their ethnic identity. Bertrand Russell, as early as 1964, called one of these massacres which took place in 1963, “the most horrible and systematic massacre since the Holocaust.”[xi] Even though Rwanda’s gacaca system of communal justice has failed to provide the justice which many if not most survivors seek, as one survivor says, restorative justice for survivors can at least help them to heal some of their wounds and right the wrongs that have been done to them.

To some extent many Rwandan genocide survivors have resigned themselves to the fact that they will never see justice, that the people who killed their families and friends in 1994 will never get the punishment that they deserve. This however does not mean that survivors also have to live the rest of their lives in fear or with the psychological wounds that are inflicted whenever they step outside their houses to go to their farm, to draw water from a nearby river, to go school, to go church, to go anywhere. (Email, August 18, 2009)

The Obligation to Assist Survivors and Resettlement’s Potential Positive Impact on Rwanda

The United Nations, Europe, the United States and Canada and the entire international community failed the survivors and failed their family members and friends who were murdered in the genocide.[xii] It is time that they honestly ask themselves how they can best contribute to their well being. They should continue to support Rwanda’s development and accepting Rwandan genocide survivors as asylum seekers should not come at the expense of doing so. But they have a very particular obligation to each and every one who survived the genocide. They can offer them the possibility of a transformed life where they will not live under the shadow of their past experiences and subject to constant retraumatization. In enabling Rwandan genocide survivors to immigrate, the governments of each country accepting genocide survivors for resettlement should take care to provide them with adequate support. It is not enough to provide genocide survivors with immigration rights without acting with sensitivity to their unique needs and the immense challenges that they face because most have lost their family members and must confront the challenge of resettlement alone or with very few siblings and relatives. Support services that would likely be necessary include temporary housing and/or financial grants for housing, assistance with job applications, language and general educational programs, and the support of dedicated social workers. Governments accepting genocide survivors for resettlement may wish to apply a portion of their foreign aid/development budgets domestically to assist in meeting the costs associated with resettlement.

It is essential to acknowledge the efforts of the Rwandan government in supporting genocide survivors. Five percent of every annual budget is devoted to programs to support their needs.[xiii] However, its resources are intensely strained and it simply cannot afford to provide survivors with their basic needs because it does not have the budget to do so. Even with this level of support tens of thousands of genocide survivors find themselves without access to adequate shelter, nutritious meals, dependable healthcare, and a steady source of income. Many children and teenagers, numbering in the thousands, orphaned by the genocide cannot afford school fees and are thus denied an education because of their poverty and their lack of a family support network because they have lost their parents and relatives in the genocide.[xiv] In this way genocide survivors are further impoverished and marginalized and rendered unable to rebuild their lives and reconstitute their communities.

Even if the Rwandan government had the economic resources to assist survivors in meeting their needs there would still be many survivors who prefer not to remain in Rwanda because of the immense psychological stress and trauma this can entail. The Rwandan government cannot jail the thousands of Rwandans who were not directly implicated in acts of genocide but who were willing bystanders who looked aside or cheered as Tutsis were murdered and whose actions during the genocide and presence in Rwanda today haunt survivors. Even with the best of intentions there are limits to the extent to which the Rwandan government can help genocide survivors to realize their human rights to live in dignity and free of fear.

Building an extensive Rwandan diaspora ultimately will be of great benefit to all Rwandans. The remittances that survivors who establish themselves abroad will send home to those who remain in Rwanda will inject much needed capital in the Rwandan economy, and some will return to Rwanda to invest, create new businesses and employment opportunities, and to apply skills gained through education acquired abroad.[xv] Enabling genocide survivors to settle abroad then will ultimately not only empower survivors and promote their rehabilitation, it will also promote the development of Rwanda as well as foster positive relations between Rwanda and other nations. There is a Rwandan diaspora in countries like Canada, the United States, Belgium, and Britain. The local Rwandan community in these countries is well placed to welcome Rwandan genocide survivors and extend them support to enable them to integrate the society and to ease the inevitable strains that accompany immigrating to a new country and acculturating.

Why Rwandan Genocide Survivors?

This article focuses on the responsibility to offer genocide survivors the choice to claim asylum. Under no circumstances should they be required or pressured to do so. Such a decision must reflect their informed consent and be an autonomous choice reflecting their individual interests as they define them. Every human being has the right to dignity and the right to security. Living beside perpetrators of such human rights abuses is a violation of these rights and for many survivors constitutes a form of torment and exposes some to tortuous psychological and social conditions. This proposal focuses on Rwandan genocide survivors primarily because the situation of Rwandan genocide survivors is unique because, as noted earlier, of the small size of Rwanda and the enormous scale and scope of the genocide in virtually every part of the country. Consequently, Rwandan genocide survivors cannot be resettled within their own country away from perpetrators of the genocide, as the perpetrators literally live everywhere throughout the country. There are relatively few countries in which the size of the country and the scale and scope of the genocide creates such a universally traumatizing environment for genocide survivors. One survivor states,

Rwanda is our country. It is our mother land. It is where our existing History starts from. However it is also a world of sorrow. These people who did that [killed and tortured] to my family were released in 2006.I meet them every day. I am having lots of difficulties to even look at their faces. I feel bad when I try. It’s as if I am the one who did wrong to them. It’s for me to feel ashamed. But I don’t give much thought on that. I have to mind my own business. However, I imagine how deep sadness is for survivors that live in rural areas. Those who decided to keep silent and never hope that Justice be done to their loved ones, because in Gacaca courts, people are making fun of them when they say what they saw. They are treated like drunkards, or fools by the participants. Those who do that are their neighbors.The ones that will live with them forever. They do that because they want their family members to be released out from prisons. They want judges to never take into consideration the truth from these survivors. And survivors choose to become the supporters of the killers who made their families to perish. They cry in hidden places, by fear of what would be happen if they struggle for the memories of their loved ones. (Email, August 17, 2009)

Perhaps one of the most psychologically damaging aspects of being forced to live alongside perpetrators is the need to curry favor with them and to repress one’s own feelings in order to minimize the chance that perpetrators will try to harm you and at the same time, to suffer their mockery, indifference, and the cruelty of their continued sympathy for the genocide and for the genocidal ideology.

Conclusion

Genocide survivors have waited long enough. They are not reaping many of the benefits of the extensive development programs implemented by European and North American aid agencies in Rwanda.[xvi] The wishes of genocide survivors too often go unheard and so it is important that their voices are acknowledged and given opportunity to be shared in public. Every year in Rwanda delegates from European countries, the United States, Canada, other members of the international community, and the United Nations acknowledge in ceremonies the evil of the Rwandan genocide, its gross injustice, and its brutality. And then, after placing a wreath, writing words such as ‘Never Again’ in a memorial book, and speaking to the media, they leave. But the genocide survivors remain in Rwanda. None of these words, sentiments, and symbolic actions amount to a real attempt to address their human rights and needs.

If the United Nations and its member states believe that the genocide was wrong, if they acknowledge that they failed to prevent and stop it, then it is incumbent upon them to care for its survivors. If they fail to do so survivors will continue to suffer, perpetuating the legacy of the genocide. As these testimonies show, right of resettlement has a central role to play in restorative justice. There is no greater moral obligation, no clearer expression of human solidarity and compassion than to enable these genocide survivors to live in freedom and safety without fear and with their dignity honored and restored.

References:

Emails between the author and Rwandan genocide survivors who wish to remain anonymous. I was assisted in this effort by a survivor who also wishes to remain anonymous who reached out to a diverse group of genocide survivors and collected their testimonies in addition to ones I collected (many of which informed the article but are not directly quoted) during field research visits to Rwanda in 2008, 2009, and 2010. Some of the quotes were collected over the course of several weeks and then emailed to me in one email, without stating the exact date on which they were received. The dates I have listed are the dates on which I received the testimonies.

Email message to the author, August 13, 2009.

Email message to the author, August 17, 2009.

Email message to the author, August 19, 2009.

GETTLEMAN, Jeffrey. Back from the Suburbs to Run a Patch of Somalia. Available at http://www.nytimes.com/2009/10/03/world/africa/03somalia.html?scp=4&sq=Somalia&st=cse )

HATZFELD, Jean. (2007.) Life Laid Bare: The Survivors in Rwanda Speak. (New York: Other Press.)

HATZFELD, Jean. (2009.) The Antelope’s Strategy: Living in Rwanda After the Genocide. (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux.)

MCVEIGH, Karen. Spate of Killings Obstructs Rwanda’s Quest for Justice. Available at http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2006/dec/03/rwanda.karenmcveigh.

MELVERN, Linda. (2009.) The Role of the West in the Rwandan Genocide. (London: Zed Books.)

MELVERN, Linda. The Mechanics of Genocide. New Humanist. Available at www.Newhumanist.org.uk (retrieved 24 October 2009).

REDRESS and African Rights Report, ‘Survivors and Post Genocide Justice in Rwanda.’

Available at,

http://www.redress.org/downloads/publications/Rwanda%20Survivors%2031%20Oct%2008.pdf

(retrieved February 15, 2010)

SURF Survivor’s Fund Annual Report 2008.

Available at, http://www.survivors-fund.org.uk/resources/reports/surf-reports.php

(retrieved 26 September 2009).

United Nations Resolution Adopted by the General Assembly. Available at http://www.undemocracy.com/A-RES-60-225/page_1 (retrieved 15 September 2009).

[1] Already 165 genocide survivors have been murdered in Rwanda by fellow Rwandans, many of whom face trials and are afraid of the punishments that will be meted out against then when genocide survivors testify that they were involved in the genocide. ‘Spate of Killings Obstructs Rwanda’s Quest for Justice. Available at, http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2006/dec/03/rwanda.karenmcveigh

[2] For more on the current situation of genocide survivors in Rwanda see The Antelope’s Strategy: Living in Rwanda After the Genocide by Jean Hatzfeld.

[3] See the report by Redress and African Rights entitled ‘Survivors and Post Genocide Justice in Rwanda.’ Available at

[4]United Nations Resolution Adopted by the General Assembly. Available at http://www.undemocracy.com/A-RES-60-225/page_1 (retrieved 15 September, 2009).

[5] Ibid

[6] Ibid

[7] Ibid

[8] United Nations Press Release, (http://www.un.org/News/Press/docs/2009/ga10908.doc.htm)

[9] Surf’s Annual Report 2008, p. 1. Available at http://www.survivors-fund.org.uk/assets/docs/reports/surf-ar-2008.pdf (retrieved 20 October 2009)

[10] SURF Website, ‘Justice.’ Available at http://www.survivors-fund.org.uk/resources/reports/ar2008/justice.php and also p. 25 http://www.survivors-fund.org.uk/assets/docs/exhibition/surf-hereos-exhibition-web.pdf (retrieved 21 October 2009).

[11]‘The Mechanics of Genocide’ by Linda Melvern. New Humanist.Available at www.Newhumanist.org.uk (retrieved 24 October 2009).

[12]Linda Melvern. ‘The Role of the West in the Rwandan Genocide.’ London: Zed Books, 2009.

[13]‘Life for Survivors’ SURF Survivor’s Fund Report. Available at www.survivors-fund.org.uk/assets/docs/…/life-for-survivors-v01.pdf. (retrieved 22 September 2009).

[14]Surf’s Annual Report 2008. Available at http://www.survivors-fund.org.uk/assets/docs/reports/surf-ar-2008.pdf (retrieved 20 October 2009).

[15]For an example of how a member of the Somalian diaspora community is contributing to Somalia’s development see: ‘Back from the suburbs to run a patch of Somalia.’Available at
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/10/03/world/africa/03somalia.html?scp=4&sq=Somalia&st=cse) (retrieved on 4 October 2009).

[16]See the article in Development in Practice by Noam Schimmel entitled, “Failed Aid: How Development Agencies Are Neglecting and Marginalizing Rwandan Genocide Survivors” for a detailed account of how Rwandan genocide survivors are being overlooked by United Nations, multilateral, national, and international aid agencies and non-governmental organizations. Spring, 2010.

Population displacement resulting from armed conflict is not a new phenomenon. However, human displacement became a global crisis in the 20th century as a result of changes in geopolitical relations between states and an increase in the number of wars around the world. Although the number of armed conflicts has declined since the 1990s, persistent internal conflicts in many parts of the world have contributed significantly to the rising number of internally displaced persons (IDPs), which reached 26 million at the end of 2008 (Human Security Report Project 2008; UNHCR 2009b). The international community is monitoring states’ policies and responses to the plight of IDPs as well as assisting IDPs in resettlement. In recent years, the visibility of IDPs in armed conflict situations has increased as a result of international media attention.

Within the broader framework of a global displacement crisis characterized by internal armed conflicts and violence, this paper selects the Colombian and Liberian cases and argues that the failure of the respective states to implement effective strategies to meet their commitment to global norms and principles pertaining to the rights and safety of IDPs weakens their ability to handle the displacement crisis effectively.

Although civil conflicts have directly caused the displacement crisis in both countries, the Colombian and Liberian cases are chosen mainly for the following reasons. First, these two cases clearly demonstrate direct linkage between civil conflicts and IDPs. The ongoing civil conflict in Colombia (1964-present) continues to displace a large number of people within the country, whereas The end of civil conflict in Liberia (1989–2003) has led to a substantial decline in the number of IDPs. Second, these two cases present an excellent opportunity to examine the strategies adopted by both countries to address the IDP crisis under very different circumstances, i.e. attempting to manage the crisis during and after the civil wars. Third, these two cases allow us to examine the ability of states not only to handle the displaced people, but also the ability to repatriate and resettle them.

By using the two case studies of Liberia and Colombia, this paper examines factors that contribute to the patterns of internal displacement within the context of 20th-century warfare and analyzes the responses of the respective states. The paper begins with a brief discussion of various observations scholars have made in understanding and studying internal displacement in armed conflicts. Next, it briefly explains the Guiding Principles on International Displacement, the international instrument that seeks to protect the IDPs at various stages. Finally, it provides the background of the civil wars in Colombia and Liberia and examines the two governments’ response, commitment, strategies and ability to handle the IDP crisis.

Understanding Armed Conflicts and the Global Patterns of Internal Displacement

Internal displacement as a result of armed conflict is one of many current challenges experienced by states and the international community. Although the number of civil wars rose after World War II, there has been a decline in the number of civil wars since the end of the Cold War (Deng 2004, 21; Helton 2000, 81). However, violence and internal displacement resulting from armed conflicts continue to be pressing issues for many states. The practice of trading contraband products has prolonged some wars. In Colombia, for example, the selling of coca has been linked to the prolonged armed conflict between government and opposition forces and has also contributed to the displacement crisis (Holmes et al. 2006, 157–58).

Women, ethnic minorities, children, and the elderly constitute the majority of the displaced populations (Helton 2000, 75). Although some people cross national borders to escape violence resulting from armed conflict, many remain within their state borders. Those who remain, especially women and children, are vulnerable to violence, abduction, sexual violence, and discrimination, and they lack essential services such as education and health care (Deng 2004, 19). According to recent estimates, children under the age of 18 constitute 43% of the IDP population and women about 50% (United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees [UNHCR] 2009b). This situation puts additional strain on the female population, as it is the women who care for the children. In addition, women and girls are likely to face sexual and gender based violence in if they are internally displaced. (International Displacement Monitoring Centre [IDMC] 2009b, 67). A 2006 survey found that in Colombia, almost half of the displaced women were subject to spousal physical violence (68). In Liberia, Save the Children found that displaced women were often forced to exchange sex for food (68). It is important to note that whereas those who escape immediate danger by crossing state boundaries become refugees whose protection and assistance fall under international jurisdiction (Helton 2000, 77), those displaced within the conflict zones fall under state jurisdiction.

Global Norms or Guiding Principles on Internal Displacement and Responsibility of States

When the number of IDPs began to soar in the post-Cold War period as a result of rising numbers of internal conflicts in the early 1990s, the international community determined that it was essential to devise international standards to protect the IDPs. A comprehensive document known as Guiding Principles on Internal Displacement (referred to as GP from this point onward) was developed at the initiative of the UN Commission on Human Rights and was adopted by the Commission in 1998 (IDMC 2009a). The document lists 30 different principles that seek to provide rights to IDPs and guarantee their protection in various phases of displacement, such as protection against displacement, protection and assistance during displacement, and during return or internal resettlement and reintegration (IDMC 2009a, under “Content”). It also outlines the obligations of state and non-state actors towards the IDPs (Wyndham 2007, 7). These principles are based on international human rights and humanitarian laws and encourage states to include them in their national legislations so that the safety and rights of the IDPs are guaranteed. The principles provide a framework for governments to identify the needs of IDPs and devise proper strategies to to address them (Kalin 2005, 8).

The GP has become the basis of IDP safety and rights since its formulation in 1998. It has not only increased awareness about the plight of IDPs around the world but also encouraged countries to devise national rules, regulations, and policies to protect the IDPs (Carr 2009, 35). Colombia, along with Azerbaijan and Georgia, had some displacement laws prior to the adoption of the GP, and 20 countries, including Liberia, have adopted similar laws or policies relating to IDPs since 1998 (Ferris 2008, 10). Although the GP is not a part of international law, the principles provide necessary tools for governments to adopt legislations, rules, and policies for managing the IDP crisis (Beau 2003, 18).

In theory, states are responsible for providing protection and general welfare to their citizens and all those under their jurisdiction. They are supposed to adopt required legislations and ensure their effective implementation (“Achievements” 2008, 7). However, in countries experiencing tensions among various groups with differentiated identities vis-à-vis race, ethnicity, religion, and language, citizenship does not necessarily guarantee an individual the protection of the state (Deng 2004, 21). Usually, those affected most by armed conflict belong to marginalized groups whose ideas and values differ from those of the dominant group. Members of marginalized groups are often labeled by states as enemies of the state because they support oppositional forces or are sympathetic to the rebels’ cause (Helton 2000, 74–75). As a result, these citizens are often denied state protection and access to essential services, and many are forced to flee from their homes and communities (Deng 2004, 22). Gaining access to these individuals can be a challenge for international organizations, as outside intervention can be viewed as a threat to state sovereignty. These displaced persons are thus forced to live at the mercy of the state, which may or may not allow them access to protection and assistance.

War and Displacement in Colombia

Political violence has been a prominent feature in Colombian 20th-century postcolonial history. In 1948, violence erupted following the assassination of a presidential candidate. The violence soon turned into a civil war that lasted for 10 years; an estimated 200,000 were killed and hundreds of thousands more displaced (Holmes et al. 2006, 163). Many of those forced to flee from their homes, land, and communities were indigenous people and Afro-Colombians. The conflict ended in 1957 with the National Front power-sharing agreement between the Liberals and the Conservatives (IDMC 2006, 8). However, peace did not last for long, as the country experienced a new wave of insurgency that began in the 1960s and continues to the present day. The insurgent forces consist of guerilla groups that have strong support from the local population (Holmes et al. 2006, 163). This popular support partly explains why the guerillas are able to sustain the struggle against the government.

In response to the new oppositional force, the Colombian government created paramilitary groups to assist the state army in counterinsurgency efforts (IDMC 2006, 9). The paramilitaries are responsible for the majority of violence and human rights abuses against Colombian citizens (16), including some targeted activities that involve murder and intimidation of those they disapprove of such as trade union leaders, drug addicts, homosexuals, prostitutes, the homeless, beggars and alcoholics (12). In a move to control the violence, the Colombian government declared the paramilitaries illegal in 1989 (Holmes et al. 2006, 164). Despite their illegal status, the paramilitaries continue to have a strong presence in the country.

Alvaro Uribe was elected president of Colombia in 2002 (Human Rights Watch 2003) and re-elected in 2006 (IDMC 2006, 9). During his presidency, outbreaks of new violence in various parts of the country have threatened country’s fragile stability and forced approximately one million people from their homes (17). Numerous incidents of massacres, sexual violence, and intimidations of civilians, especially in rural areas, have been reported during this period (Holmes et al. 2006, 164). In response to the widespread violence, in 2003 the Colombian government under Uribe adopted the “Democratic Security Policy”, which aimed at suppressing the insurgency by encouraging local civilians to participate in counterinsurgency activities, by arming peasant soldiers, and by establishing networks of informants (IDMC 2006, 4). Despite these changes, violence continues to ravage the country and forces many people from their homes.

Table 1.

Number of IDPs in Colombia

Source: UNHCR 2009a.

As Table 1 demonstrates, Colombia has about 3 million IDPs scattered across the country, the second highest IDP population in the world behind Sudan. Among the contributing factors is a prolonged civil conflict in which the government is engaged with three illegal armed groups: two opposing leftist rebel forces—the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia (FARC) and the National Liberation Army (ELN)—and a right wing paramilitary group, United Self-Defence Forces of Colombia (AUC).

Some patterns of displacement in Colombia are typical of those in other countries facing a displacement crisis. Most of the displaced individuals are moving from rural areas to cities, and within and between urban centers. This displacement is having a disproportionate effect on Afro-Colombians and indigenous communities. In addition, about 70% of the displaced individuals are women and children (UNHCR 2009a).

Colombian case demonstrates a direct linkage between civil conflict and displacement of people inside the country. Policies/strategies adopted by security forces, rebels, and paramilitary groups exacerbate the problem of internal displacement, which disproportionately affects the marginalized groups, women and children.

Colombia’s Response and the Guiding Principles

The Colombian government has adopted several strategies to manage its IDP crisis. However, those strategies have failed due to persistent violence and government’s inability to implement them, jeopardizing its commitments toward the GP and IDPs.

First, Colombia wanted to introduce effective legislation to handle the continuing IDP crisis. Early in 2008, in an attempt to improve the living conditions of IDPs, the Colombian government made some significant changes to the country’s IDP policy. The government declared 2008 the Year of the Promotion of the Rights of Displaced People and issued 80,000 new IDP identity cards. In addition, about 2 million hectares of land were set aside for returning IDPs. These changes demonstrated the government’s willingness to address Colombia’s humanitarian crisis, but implementation has lagged behind legislation (Wright et al. 2007).

Second, the government and the judiciary undertook some measures to honor the spirit of GP. For example, the government adopted Colombian Law 387 in 1997 and revised it in 2005 which contain most of the provisions included in the GP, such as right against forcible displacement, right to receive external assistance, right to education, and right against discrimination. In addition, the government issued a dozen decrees to extend the coverage of this law in Colombia since 1997 (Carr 2009, 38–39). However, the government has failed to ensure effective implementation of these laws and principles. Colombian Constitutional Court has consistently ruled in favor of the IDPs and has asked the government to address the continued violation of IDPs’ human rights. However, the government has not taken any effective measures to address the problem (Carr 2009, 40)..

Despite the commitment demonstrated by the Colombian government and its judiciary, why have the strategies adopted by the government failed to meet its commitment toward the IDPS and GPs? A report published by the Brookings-Bern Project on Internal Displacement (2009) provides some answer. The report lists a number of deficiencies on the part of the Colombian government in managing the IDP crisis. First, the government’s policy of embracing a narrow interpretation of IDPs creates a large group of individuals who are displaced but cannot claim the rights and protection they need. For example, if a person is displaced by insurgents only, he/she can claim an IDP status, whereas individuals displaced by the security forces, paramilitary groups, and government policies such as fumigation are not considered IDPs and are thus denied the rights, protection, and emergency provisions they need (Cohen 2008, 10, 12–13, 17). Second, due to the ongoing nature of violence, the government has failed to provide a sense of security and safety to displaced individuals, their leaders, and organizations advocating their rights. These individuals feel insecure against security forces, paramilitary, and rebels, as they are in many cases threatened, targeted, or killed. For instance, individuals who advocate land titles to marginalized communities, such as Afro-Colombians, even had to flee the country fearing for their lives (12) The authorities fail to take action against individuals involved in such actions (16). Third, the Colombian government has been plagued by its inability to create employment and training opportunities to the IDPs, provide land to Afro-Colombian communities, stop discrimination against children, and offer adequate assistance for returnees (16, 17–19, 21, 30).

The discussion presented above offer a mixed picture of the Colombian government’s ability to manage the IDP crisis in Colombia. Although government has made some commitments to help the IDPs, it has failed to either reduce the IDP population or address many of their concerns mainly due to lack of security and its inability to take stronger and effective measures. Consequently, Colombia’s commitment to uphold the principles outlined in the GP with reference to IDP rights and safety rings hollow.

Civil War and Displacement in Liberia

Unlike Colombia, Liberia has never been colonized. Beginning in 1821, a group of freed American slaves arrived and settled in Liberia, and Liberia is considered to have cultural ideas similar to those of the United States (Bruce 2004). Throughout the Cold War, Liberia was a key U.S. ally in Africa (Peterson 1996, 149).

An understanding of the role of ethnicity is important for the study of the internal armed conflicts and the subsequent internal displacement crisis in Liberia. Although the settlers from the United States were initially welcomed by the indigenous people of Liberia, tensions between the two groups soon arose. Americo-Liberians sought to differentiate themselves from indigenous people by referring to themselves as “civilized” settlers and the indigenous people as “uncivilized.” During the 1940s, Liberian president William V.S. Tubman introduced the Integration and Unification Policy, which was designed to promote the assimilation of Liberian indigenous peoples. Although the new policy encouraged active participation of indigenous people in all aspects of Liberian life, it did not succeed in challenging Americo-Liberian hegemony in economic, political, social, and cultural life (Bruce 2004).

In 1980, a military coup led by Samuel K. Doe overthrew the government and executed then-President William Tolbert and 13 members of the cabinet (Peterson 1996, 149). Doe’s initial plan to include indigenous ethnic groups in the state bureaucracy soon gave way to a regime of repression and corruption. Following Doe’s re-election in 1985, the Armed Forces of Liberia (AFL) carried out massacres of civilians in retaliation for an earlier attempted coup (Bruce 2004). Doe’s reign of terror ended in 1989 with the invasion led by Charles Taylor, who had served as director general of Liberia’s General Services Agency under Doe (Peterson 1996, 153). Liberia subsequently experienced two separate civil conflicts. During the first civil conflict (1989–1996), various factions[1] fought to control different parts of Liberia. The second civil war (1999–2003) was ignited when a rebel group, Liberians United for Reconciliation and Democracy, launched its rebellion against the Taylor regime. A second rebel group, the Movement for Democracy in Liberia, emerged in the south in early 2003 against the existing regime. Under tremendous pressure from the international community, Taylor went into exile in Nigeria in 2003 (Bruce 2004). The violence subsided considerably after the end of the civil war in 2003 and created a favorable environment for IDPs to return home and resettle. The number of IDPs dwindled in subsequent years, and the Liberian government declared the IDP return process complete in 2006. Yet, as Table 2 demonstrates, an indeterminate number of IDPs—probably thousands—remained stranded in and around former camps across the country at the end of 2008.

Table 2.

Number of IDPs in Liberia

Source: IDMC 2009b; UNHCR 2009.

Liberia’s Response and the Guiding Principles

Although the Liberian government has made major efforts to address its IDP crisis and has succeeded in sending most of the IDPs to their homes and villages following the end of civil conflict in 2003, significant problems remain in its handling of the repatriation and resettlement process. Liberia’s endorsement of the GP in its full form is an encouraging development, but the government’s inability to handle the problems in the resettlement and reintegration process suggests a considerable gap between Liberia’s commitment to and the strategies adopted to implement the necessary measures to resolve the IDP crisis.

The end of civil war in Liberia facilitated the repatriation and resettlement of thousands of IDPs since 2003. The Liberian government, with the support of various international organizations and aid agencies, introduced the Community Resettlement and Reintegration Strategy program in 2004, with the aim of assisting IDPs in the return and resettlement process. The new program indicated that Liberia was moving toward economic recovery, sustainable growth and long-term stability (IDMC 2007, 7) and that IDP camps were officially closed in 2006 and the IDPS returned by mid-2007 (52). However, despite the official declaration that all IDPs had returned home, there was still an indeterminate number of IDPs scattered across the country at the end of 2008 (28). In addition, the lack of basic infrastructure, persistent land related conflicts, and exclusion in the registration process continue to hinder the government’s effort manage the resettlement and reintegration of returned IDPs (52). The resettlement process initiated after the end of civil conflict has been compounded by the presence of numerous underemployed and unemployed ex-combatants, drug trafficking and food insecurity (UN Security Council Report 2009, 3). Although many chose to return to their homes and communities, some IDPs decided to settle in their new communities. Economic and educational opportunities, better access to public services, and intermarriages are all important factors in the decision of these IDPs not to return to their original communities (IDMC 2007, 4–5).

Compared to Colombia, Liberia had a small number of IDPs and was able to help them after the cessation of hostilities in 2003. The end of civil conflict and reduction of violence facilitated repatriation and reintegration of most of the IDPs to their homes and villages. Liberia is one of the four countries in Africa that has fully adopted the GP (Carr 2009, 36). It adopted the GP into national legislation in November 2004 as a means to protect the dignity and rights of IDPs (Brookings-Bern Project 2009). In spite of this commitment and the end of hostilities, combined with the return of the majority of IDPs, several thousand IDPs were left behind in various camps across Liberia (Wright et al. 2007). In 2007, IDPs from seven camps demonstrated in Monrovia, demanding support to return home and claiming that the government and nongovernmental aid agencies had ignored them (Cohen 2008, 3).

UNHCR’s evaluation of its operation in Liberia has found multiple problems plaguing the return process. First, returnees could not feel safe when they went back to their old villages and neighborhoods. They witnessed a pervasive “culture of impunity” and felt that there was not enough “medical, psychological and legal support for victims” (Wright et al. 2007, 8–9). Second, Liberian authorities relied on a limited interpretation of IDPs and considered only those living in camps and registered with the World Food Programme to be legitimate IDPs. Consequently, other IDPs who were residing in urban areas and living with families outside the camp were left out of the repatriation process (9). Third, many IDPs either refused to return or came back to the camps later because of the absence of economic opportunities, basic services, and hospitable environment in their villages (9). Fourth, there was a lack of coordination and defined responsibilities between the UNHCR and the local authorities in monitoring, supervising, protecting, and allocating resources to the IDPs returning home (10). Fourth, there were problems associated with land protection and property rights issues for returned IDPs (17). Fifth, , once most of the IDPs were sent home following the cessation of conflict, the Liberian government did not consider the management of smaller number of IDPs a priority, thereby ignoring the spirit of GPs. Sixth, Liberia received less financial support after the end of civil war to manage the IDPs. For example, the budgetary allocation of UNHCR for 2009-11 in Liberia indicates a gradual decline in its support for capacity building activities such as protection and reintegration IDPs (UNHCR, 2010). Finally, Liberia faced multiple problems faced by many post-conflict nations such as lack of sufficient funds to handle the mulitisectoral needs of IDPs, poor road conditions and dispersed population, limited presence of UN agencies, and the inability of the government to take major responsibilities (UNHCR, 2009c). Consequently, Liberian government failed to honor its commitment to protect the interest of IDPs as stipulated under the provisions of GPs.

Conclusion

Displacement of people within a country due to armed conflict is one of the serious humanitarian issues faced by the global community. Responsibility to protect the IDPs rests on the shoulders of the respective governments. Countries devise their national laws and policies on the basis of international instruments such as the GP to manage the IDP crisis. They often work in collaboration with various international organizations such as UNHCR and the International Committee of the Red Cross to protect the rights of IDPs.

This paper explored and examined the displacement crisis in Colombia and Liberia. These two cases reaffirm the widespread belief that there is a correlation between armed conflict and internal displacement. If a country is able to resolve its armed conflict, it creates a favorable environment for handling the IDP crisis. Conversely, if a country fails to resolve its armed conflict successfully, its ability to handle the IDP crisis is significantly compromised. Continued internal conflict in Colombia prevented the Colombian government from effectively managing the IDP crisis, whereas the cessation of hostilities in Liberia created a favorable environment for Liberians to return to their homes and villages.

The two case studies reveal the existence of a significant gap between the commitment of Colombian and Liberian governments toward the global norms and principles outlined in GP and their ability to implement effective strategies to meet those commitments. Colombia had taken the initiative early and passed a few laws to manage the IDP crisis, even before its adoption of the GP in 1998. In addition, its Constitutional Court cited the GP in its ruling and found the government failing in its obligation to protect the rights of IDPs. Thus Colombia demonstrated its partial commitment to the principles outlined in the GP but failed to implement effective strategies to honor those commitments. Liberia, on the other hand, was fully committed to the GP but failed to implement the necessary measures effectively to meet those commitments. Whereas Colombia struggled mainly to uphold the principle of protecting the rights of IDPs during the displacement phase, Liberia struggled in its attempts to protect the rights of IDPs during the repatriation, resettlement, and reintegration processes. Why did Colombia and Liberia struggle to meet their commitments to GP? Because the GP simply provides a framework and guideline for devising national legislations and policies to handle the displacement crisis and does not offer any suggestions for effective implementation of these norms, individual states are expected to develop their own implementation strategies. The case studies of Colombia and Liberia indicate that although this approach protects the sovereign rights of individual states, it also allows for a major gap between the commitment of individual states and their ability to implement effective strategies to fulfill their obligation to address the concerns of IDPs. It is apparent from the discussion above that both Colombia and Liberia did not have the ability to implement effective strategies to meet their commitment to GPs. Why did they lack the ability to manage the IDP crisis successfully in spite of their good intentions? Although it is not the scope of this paper, we can estimate the relevance of two factors in explaining this phenomenon: lack of resources and political will. Both Colombia and Liberia lacked necessary resources and expertise to manage the crisis. For this reason, they sought the help of international agencies to manage the IDP crisis. Paucity of adequate resources might have inhibited the leadership in both countries from developing the necessary will in managing the IDP crisis. Further research is required to ascertain the linkage between the lack of resources and absence of political will in explaining the inability of poor countries like Colombia and Liberia to manage the IDP crisis.

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[1] The factions included the National Patriotic Front of Liberia, led by Charles Taylor; its breakaway faction the Independent National Patriotic Front of Liberia, led by Prince Yormie Johnson; and the United Liberation Movement of Liberia for Democracy, led by the supporters of former President Doe.

1.1. Humanitarianism and advocacy

The literature on conflict-related humanitarianism seems to reveal that the transformations occurred within this field have impacted on the humanitarian policy, the humanitarian community and the humanitarian action and have led towards new policies of intervention, the emergence of new actors and the expansion of their activities. The premise of this paper is that they have also had a strong influence on the development of the advocacy initiatives and a deep impact on the evolution of its concept.

1.2. Evolution of conflict-related humanitarianism

Since the end of the World War II, the intertwined principles of sovereignty and non-interference in internal affairs of sovereign states have represented a controversial aspect in the implementation of the humanitarian action. The external ‘humanitarian intervention’ in its classical sense of forcible military intervention (Roberts 1996:19) was considered feasible when broad threatening and abuses of fundamental human rights in a country involved nationals of another state. Conversely, when the abuses involved only nationals of the offending state this option was considered not viable and technically illegal as it implied a violation of the principle of non-intervention (Roberts 1996:19). Therefore, a different legal basis to justify the use of force was required (Lillich 1967:326-334). An unresolved contradiction within the United Nations Charter, de facto, hampered the international ‘humanitarian intervention’ in most of the conflict-related crises on the United Nations agenda in the aftermath of World War II. On the one hand, the UN Charter states, promotes and encourages the respect of the fundamental human rights (UN Charter Articles 1.3, 55 and 56). On the other, it is deficient in offering any enforcement provisions to guarantee their observance while simultaneously recognizing to all its members states the respect for their principles of sovereignty and non-interference. The concerns for the lack of compliance with the fundamental human rights coupled with the frustrations stemming from the restrictions on ‘humanitarian intervention’ within countries invoking the respect for their sovereignty fostered the international humanitarian community to develop new mechanisms capable of overcoming this impasse.

The ‘droit d’ingérence’ (the right to interfere and/or intervene) emerged during the Biafra war as a new operational principle capable of giving the humanitarian community an alternative and necessary framework for accessing suffering people. This operational concept based its legitimacy on the “rights-based universalism” (Rieff 2002:311) and posited that the international community could no longer accept the option that, in the name of sovereignty, a government could prevent, interfere or even obstruct the delivery of humanitarian assistance to its population. In the eyes of the proponents, frontiers had to be disregarded as the prime responsibility was to the suffering (Ramsbotham and Woodhoouse 1996:119) of the people anywhere whose rights represented a “legitimate concern for people everywhere” (Tomasevski 1994:80). The ‘droit d’ingérence’ marked the beginning of the “contemporary humanitarianism” (Riff 2002:77) distinguished by both a new perspective on the humanitarian action and a new perception of the suffering populations. In the name of efficiency it affirmed the right of access ‘to’ victims for the providers of aid and largely disregarded the rights to access the humanitarian assistance ‘of’ the victims broadly “defined as objects of assistance rather than subjects of rights” (Tomasevski 1994:81-6). Yet, the ‘droit d’ingérence’ introduced two crucial and interlinked consequences. Firstly, by challenging the sovereignty principle, it exposed the humanitarian action to divergent interpretations by the warring parties and consequently to the risk of both becoming, in the wording of the international humanitarian law (IHL), “an unfriendly act of interference in the conflict itself” (Minear and Weiss 1993:25) and making “humanitarianism (…) irrevocably politicized” (Ramsbotham and Woodhoouse 1996:104). Secondly, the exposure of the humanitarian action to political reading challenged the bedrock operational principle of neutrality a milestone of the humanitarian action as it creates the necessary apolitical space needed to legitimize the humanitarian action and, together with the impartiality and independence, outlines the intervention in a way that is both “ethically justifiable and politically possible” (Leader 2000:5). The humanitarian assistance inspired by the ‘droit d’ingérence’ encountered growing challenges in the ‘new wars’ whose realities were progressively shifting from interstates to intrastate. When in ‘non international armed conflicts’ the suffering of the part of the populations represented a war objective, the ‘droit d’ingérence’ was decreasingly seen as an operational humanitarian principle and increasingly interpreted with politically delineated traits. “One man’s humanitarian relief is another man’s aid to the enemy” (Benthall 1993:217 quoting a passage from The Times Playing at peace 17 July 1992).

With the human rights-talk uncensored by the end of the Cold War, agencies were no longer tied by the “strait-jacketed humanitarianism” (De Waal 1994) and by its consequent operational opportunism that made unwise for the humanitarians to pursue human rights goals through their action (Slim 2002:9). Within the humanitarian community the ‘human rights-based perspective’ became the prevailing discourse and, in operational terms, the ‘right-based approach’ (RBA) progressively replaced the need-based modus operandi. The perception of suffering populations re-shifted accordingly as they were no longer seen as the object of organizations’ action but through the new lens of rights-bearers the agencies already had the right ‘to’ access. However, this shift seems to have engendered simultaneous positive and negative outcomes. On the one hand, guiding humanitarian action through rights and duties allowed the humanitarianism not to be left free-floating in the realm of the ill-defined concept of charity but to be grounded within an explicit framework of values and policies (Slim 2002: 21-2). On the other, this approach challenged even further the principle of sovereignty, weakened more the principle of neutrality and introduced a new defy for the principle of impartiality. Concerning the sovereignty, as for the previously claimed right of access ‘to’ the victims, the argument that the humanitarian interventions and actions were means to the end of fostering respect, protection and realization of human rights of suffering populations was interpreted as a façade to justify the Western interference. Concerning the neutrality, the two intertwined factors inherent the RBA of “creating legitimacy for one side (…) [and] playing judge and jury [with the other]” (Hilliard 2005:12) weakened more its acceptance as it implicitly meant to take side. Concerning the impartiality, the conditionality embedded in the RBA clashed with the reality of the multi-sided consequences of a conflict. And when the organization identifies who to assist on the basis of whose rights are being violated rather than on the basis of their needs the all idea of aid loses it contours of value and assumes those of the policy of a politicized action (Hilliard 2005:10-2).

The globalization fostered the end of the “absolute and exclusive sovereignty” (UN 1992: point 17) seen rather as a “partnership at the political level” (Hilliard 2005:15). In this new scenario, where responsibilities were globalized (Darcy 2004:120-1), the state was no longer seen as the sole responsible for creating an environment conducive to the respect, protection and fulfillment of the human rights (Gready 2008:741). On the stage of this new transnational responsibility, the old characters of the international community showed the latest tools called ‘good governance’ while new engaged non-state actors (NSA), such as the humanitarian agencies, appeared. Yet, if on the one hand in the rights-duties equation old and new players seemed keen in claiming their share of contribution in the realization of the human rights, on the other, they both showed inconsistence vis-à-vis the consequent liabilities. “Rights imply duties, and duties demand accountability” (UN OHCHR 2002 paragraph 23). Without “methods for holding those who violate claims accountable (…) the claims lose meaning” (Uvin 2004:131). Extending this concept, it becomes clear that “without accountability (remedies, redress) human rights mean nothing” (Gready 2008:741). In conflict-created emergencies the humanitarians took up their share of ‘governance’ by established the so-called ‘humanitarian space’ and assumed their quota of human rights duties by increasingly engaging in the rights-based advocacy. Yet, concerning their accountability they visibly became elusive. Seen liable in efficiency rather than in political terms and simultaneously to both donors and beneficiaries, humanitarians usually donned the “impenetrable armor of moral righteousness” (De Waal 1994) when questioned. This handy elusiveness put them in a pure win-win situation (Uvin 2002:8) where they could accuse while avoiding accusations. Usually, this left the government of the recipient country the only indicted in the court of public guilt.

The advancements of the information and communication technologies (ICT) made globally known the large-scale sufferings of the ‘complex emergencies’ that enchained during the 1990s. This simultaneously reinforced the trend towards both the “McDonaldization of human rights” (Volker 2004:23) and the consequent need for intervention to protect them. This new perspective shifted the international debates from the legitimacy of the ‘right to intervene’ to the need to find a new global mechanism capable of producing new worldwide solutions to respond to the ‘massive and systematic breaches of human rights’ seen to be causing these new large-scale sufferings and to increasingly threatening regional and global security. The UN, with its reinforced moral authority emerged within the ‘new world order’, came on the scene as the appropriate answer especially for its ambition to tackle the complex emergencies by assuming a simultaneous political, military and humanitarian role (Roberts 1996:11). The new UN operational framework for humanitarian intervention was outlined by the possibility to deploy peace-enforcement units to secure the ‘humanitarian space’ and by the ‘Agenda for Peace’, stating the reciprocally supportive character of the humanitarian assistance and the peacekeeping operations (UN 1992: Section V Preamble). The new interventionist approach was made viable by an unprecedented freedom to act in humanitarian emergencies via the Security Council (Slim and Penrose 1994:206-7) no longer powerless by the non-intervention norms or paralyzed by vetoes. This approach became more visible through the transformation of both components of ‘humanitarian intervention’. The ‘intervention’ component was transformed through the substitution of UN Charter article 2(7) for 2(4) in UN missions and the adoption of new forcible resolutions. The ‘humanitarian’ component was transformed by increasing the field coordination role of UN humanitarian agencies and by the inclusion of a full range of activities and approaches under the UN umbrella (Damrosh and Scheffer 1991:215). Yet, if on the one hand the forcible UN resolutions illustrated the new international consensus on the legitimacy to enforce minimum humanitarian standards within the states (Ramsbotham and Woodhoouse 1996:79; Chopra and Weiss 1992; Garigue 1993), on the other, they brought the humanitarian action to the fore of international politics (Roberts 1996:15). Furthermore, the creation of the ’safe heavens’ pushed the concept of ‘military humanitarianism’ into the public domain (Weiss and Campbell 1991:451-65) marking the militarization trend of the humanitarian initiatives. Finally, researches seems to suggest that the new humanitarian action under the UN umbrella was tarnished by the lack of a coherent and transparent international and long-term policy framework addressing the root causes of the post-Cold War crises. Among the causes, scholars have identified the colliding priorities generated by the United Nations’ “split personality” (Ramsbotham and Woodhoouse 1996:153) acting simultaneously politically through the Security Council and non-politically through its various agencies. The related operational dilemmas clearly emerged during the Rwanda crisis. The consequent policy vacuum stemming from the UN incapacity to set clear objectives, often formulated through ad hoc resolutions, appears to have weakened even further the international community mandate to intervene (Macrae and Zwi 1994:26; Duffield et al 1994:228).

The new millennium saw the Responsibility to Protect (R2P) doctrine gaining currency in international humanitarian debates. This fostered the idea of a certain right/duty of the international community to launch “human rights protection operations” (Rieff 2002:268) whenever the sovereign states were no longer able to protect their own citizens from avoidable catastrophes. Within the humanitarian community, the ‘humanitarian protection’ replaced the obsolete terms of ‘relief’ and ‘assistance’ and became the overarching operational framework that guided and explained the entire action. Yet, the available literature seems to suggest that at the dawn of the new century the humanitarians were seen to interfere in other countries’ sovereignty and their action appeared to be implemented in a policy vacuum, irremediably perceived with politicized and militarized contours and having a clear human rights orientation. When in 2001 Colin Powell declared that the NGOs were “force multiplier (…) [and] an important part of our combat team” (Powel quoted in Burnett 2004) in the general eyes the humanitarian actors definitively became the ambassadors of the Western policy and the unarmed troops of the Western military forces. From the start, the crisis in Darfur was framed in the language of human rights protection.

1.3. Evolution of the humanitarian community

Humanitarian agencies responding to conflict-related emergencies are generally considered crucial players hinging between the crises and the relief, the haves and have-nots, the ‘North’ and the ‘South’. They are seen as a sort of “missing link” (Omole and Ajibade 2005:49) allowing the civil society at a global level to intervene and alleviate the suffering at local level. For this reason, to the multiplication of conflict-related emergencies, the international community responded also with the creation of new humanitarian agencies, the enlargement of their tasks and the reinforcement of their role and responsibilities. An aerial view of the humanitarian community operating in conflict-induced crises would reveal a motley assortment of interveners that for the purposes of this discussion will also be termed humanitarian organizations, agencies and actors in an interchangeable way. Conversely, a more historical overview would show an evolution associates to four generations of agencies: the first appeared in the 19th century, the second emerged in the aftermath of the WWII, the third grew during the 1960s and the fourth developed between the 1980s and 1990s. (West 2002: 27-33). This paper will focus on the 1960s and the 1980s during which the reinforcement of organizations’ role and influence occurred and on the 1990s marked by an important swing in the agencies’ humanitarianism philosophy.

During the 1960s, the humanitarian assistance channeled through government-government aid programs started to be considered both insufficient and ideologically biased because framed within the Cold War logic (Tomasevski 1994:60). This factor, coupled with the progressive disengagement of Western governments from the crises in less developed countries, opened the way to increasingly channel the humanitarian aid through private voluntary associations. Through the lenses of the neo-liberalism and the ideology of privatization of the 1980s, the involvement of Western states in third world development programs started to be considered no longer acceptable especially in the light of the achieved results generally considered disappointing. In line with the decline, if not suspension, of bilateral development aid, humanitarian agencies became “major players” (Duffield et al 1994:226) in the implementation of humanitarian assistance. These actors offered to Western countries the possibility to avoid the channeling of the aid through the Southern states (Borton and Shoham 1989; Duffield 1994:58). Furthermore, they were seen more reliable than some recipient governments’ agencies and more responsive to the suffering communities’ needs. Finally, and more importantly, in the case of intrastate conflicts they allowed to circumvent the official recognition of insurgent groups eventually implied by a direct involvement of a Western government in the humanitarian action (Ramsbotham and Woodhoouse 1996:153). During the 1990s, an increasing number of agencies started to shift from the ‘Dunantist’ to the ‘Wilsonian[1]‘ humanitarianism philosophy or from the need-based approach to the RBA and therefore to expand their interventions beyond the traditional task of distributing relief aid. Generally classified as either ‘Dunantist’ or ‘Wilsonian’, humanitarian organizations belonging to the former are seen to insist on the neutral, independent and impartial humanitarian action kept away from any political involvement and interference. Those belonging to the latter are seen to have a wider approach that aims at eliminating the root causes of the humanitarian suffering by attacking the responsible structures (Barnett 2005:728).

At the dawn of the new millennium a large number of agencies enjoyed plenty of leeway to “influence humanitarian policy and to operate on their own terms.” (Hilliard 2005:2-4). Yet, with the proliferation of agencies the response to international emergencies assumed the external contours of a ‘global enterprise’ showing internal divergent pressure and forces. The centripetal pressure to reach field coordination was vanished by the atomization of the agencies with often overlapping mandates, incoherence in their interventions and duplications of their field programs. The centrifugal forces transformed the ‘friendly rivalry’ within the humanitarian community into a real antagonism and pushed many agencies to both exploit their links with Western governments and to compete to occupy the global ‘mediascape’ for their advocacy, visibility and fundraising goals. Because of this competition, the future seems to prospect a flattening of the humanitarian community pyramid and a polarization of its actors with few BINGOs at the top and a galaxy of small local NGOs at the bottom (West 2002:217).

2. Advocacy

2.1. Advocacy and humanitarian advocacy

Advocacy is the process of speaking out about issues of concern in order to exert some influence aimed at pursuing effective outcomes directly affecting people’s lives (Cohen et al: 2001). In its general meaning of a mix of persuasive communication and targeted actions aiming at ‘pleading the cause of’, ‘acting on behalf of’ and ’speaking out for or in support of others’, advocacy is designed to change policies, positions and actions on a specific issue or cause on behalf of the voiceless. Its characteristics have been summarized in three elements: protect vulnerable people, give them a stronger voice and promote their rights (Barnes quoted in Rai-Atkins 2002:5). In these respects, the concept of advocacy is at the heart of operational humanitarian organizations intervening in conflict-related crises. Besides their relief logistical exercise, they attempt to plead the cause of unheard suffering people by shaping the context conducive to appropriate political, economic and humanitarian responses to their unmet needs. In Perrin’s wording, advocacy also allows the agencies to fulfill their “duty to influence” (Perrin 2002) all key players in order to ensure that they assume their responsibilities to the victim and respect the IHL (Perrin 2002). Although advocacy it is not a novelty within the conflict-related humanitarianism (Meyer 1996), researches would confirm that, apart from notable exceptions, it was not included in the original mandate of many operational organizations. They would also reveal that it was especially with the shift in the humanitarianism philosophy seen above, that the majority of them broadened their initial scope of activities in order to include advocacy. Nowadays, it is considered a critical component of the international response to complex emergencies (Prendergast 1997:145) and listed among the core organizational competencies of many agencies. Yet, current literature shows a panoply of interchangeable terms for advocacy (ODI 2007 October) and suggests that the approach and extent of each agency’s involvement in advocacy initiatives varies making the contours of this function quite blurred and very difficult to establish communitywide guidelines.

2.2. Humanitarian advocacy: objectives, activities and its private/public approaches

In the available documentation of major agencies some commonalities can be found in terms of formulation of advocacy’s general objectives, strategies, tactics and type of activities to implement it. Main shared advocacy’s objectives seem to show a scope that is simultaneously at global and local levels. Within the former, advocacy is considered to aim at influencing the awareness of both international decision-makers and general public on specific humanitarian issues and concerns as well as on the agencies’ work. Within the latter, it is seen to seek to reshape the humanitarian perception of key political and military players operating in the conflict contexts and having a weight on both the plight of affected populations and agencies’ action. The expected outcomes are generally formulated in terms of changes in their general opinion, attitudes and behaviors. The mobilization of the necessary financial support to implement the humanitarian actions is also generally included within these general objectives. Advocacy activities are considered to fall within a continuum between passive involvements such as the ‘corridor lobbying’ and more proactive engagements such as lobbying; between a direct approach of key interlocutors and indirect pressure through the mobilization of public opinion; and between low-profile initiatives such as meetings and ordinary use of the media and high visible forms such as public campaigns. Humanitarian organizations seem to have usually addressed complex and sensitive issues related to conflict-induced emergencies through the behind-the-scene initiatives and the bilateral practices of the ‘humanitarian diplomacy’. Traditionally, this has been considered to be the most effective route to impact the future of humanitarian issues and concerns. Empowered by the privileged position gained during the 1960s the 1980s and 1990s, humanitarians succeeded in actively carving a niche for themselves at the table of the discreet and private advocacy. Yet, when deemed necessary to the interest of humanitarian purposes, the organizations have also been ready to use more visible advocacy initiatives with a clear public communication orientation. Nowadays, both private and public approaches have become fundamental components of a broad set of strategies put in place by humanitarian organizations for their advocacy purposes and in order to maximize the impact they are largely used in tandem.

Focusing a closer attention on the public humanitarian advocacy, this seems to show a threefold strategy at global level and a twofold strategy at local level. At global level, the first is to reshape the awareness of key political actors on the roots causes of the humanitarian outcomes of a conflict in order to influence their policy formulation or policy implementation. Patent examples are the International Campaign to Ban the Landmines, the campaigns on the Cluster Munitions, on the Control of Small Arms and on the Child Soldier. The second is to sensitize the decision-makers about the plight of affected populations in order to ensure that their humanitarian needs receive appropriate attention and resources. The UN Consolidated Appeal and the annual ICRC Emergency Appeals are two among other illustrations. The last is to raise the profile of a specific crisis or to frame a specific humanitarian issue in the public minds in order to both influence or shift targeted audiences’ opinion and rally their support. One example is the media-based and internet-based appeals regularly launched by the Disaster Emergency Committee. Another is the increasing exploitation of the prospect of “equal opportunity activism” (Facebook 2009) offered by the social networking. Through such mobilization, humanitarians aim at creating a context conducive to appropriate political, economic and humanitarian responses or, ultimately, at either putting an indirect pressure on decision-makers or shaking reluctant key leadership from inaction. The ability of the public opinion to provoke an eventual reaction of politicians is based on the “salience hypothesis” (Burnstein 1999:16) positing that when there is a discrepancy between the public preferences and the policy framework, increasing an issue’s salience in the public minds can have a strong impact on politicians (Mchale 2004:6). This capacity has gained a larger relevance in contemporary society where politicians are increasingly accountable to public opinion (Leonard 2000; Wedge 1968). In today’s ‘global village’ this pressure has obviously assumed global dimensions.

At local level, the public humanitarian advocacy initiatives aim, on the one hand, at shaping the perception of key political and military players in order to sensitize them on the hardship endured by the crises-affected populations and on the need to ensure that they access humanitarian assistance and protection. On the other, they seek to respond to the central imperatives governing the humanitarian action notably the guarantees for unhampered access to vulnerable populations and the security of the humanitarian staff in the field. Each organization would provide statistics on their activities such as the dissemination sessions, seminars and workshops regularly conducted to sensitize local key players as well as copy of their ‘Fact Sheet’ summarizing their response to the crisis. More original examples are the music projects launched in 1999, 2002 and 2006 by the ICRC delegation in Côte d’Ivoire that used the power of music to appeal for the protection of human dignity of war victims and for the respect for Red Cross humanitarian action and personnel (ICRC 2006).

Discussion

3.1. Public humanitarian advocacy has become a ‘good word gone bad’

This paper claims is that in today’s conflict-related humanitarian environment, advocacy has become a ‘good word gone bad’. In recent years, when referred to this field advocacy, especially in its public forms, seems to have progressively lost its original and positive connotations and simultaneously assumed growing negative significances. Nowadays, it appears to be away from its original people-and-their-suffering-centered orientation, largely interpreted in political terms, widely used with a ’speaking out’ approach intended to publicly denounce rights-violating governments and increasingly associated with initiatives aiming at pure visibility goals. Arraying the exercise of influencing key players through advocacy on a continuum ranging from negotiations behind the scenes to public denunciation (Perrin 2002), many organizations seem to increasingly prefer the latter to the former. This ‘deviated’ interpretation and the widespread association of advocacy with the denunciation approach would rally a large consensus within the humanitarian community. Outside analysts seem also to implicitly recognize this deviation when they wonder whether “advocacy in Darfur has gone too far” (Gidley 2007) or when they highlight the need for a better understanding of both the role of agencies in advocacy and the effectiveness of this function (HPG 2007:1).

3.2. Five main factors behind advocacy’s deviation

Five main factors seem to emerge as having particularly fostered this deviation. Firstly, the growing frustration stemming from the acknowledgement of the political contours of the complex emergencies and from the widespread perception that “there are no humanitarian solutions to humanitarian problems” (Sadako Ogata quoted in Rieff 2002:22) oriented many agencies away from their ‘Dunantist’ approach considered to be producing only increasing dissatisfaction and “well-fed dead” (Barnett 2005:728). The international policy vacuum in addressing the post-Cold War crises coupled with the agencies’ reinforced tasks and responsibilities analyzed above prompted many humanitarians to take individual interventionist moves also in terms of advocacy enabling them to push for more appropriate actions to reach their new goals. Yet, with the shifts fostered by both the ‘Wilsonian’ philosophy and the ‘droit d’ingérence’ the issues at stake were growingly interpreted in political terms and the intentions behind advocacy’s process of persuasion were seen to swing from empowering the voiceless to increasing the power of the speakers. In the general frame of mind advocacy assumed political connotations while the advocates turned into propagandists.

Secondly, operating increasingly in intrastate conflicts-related crises characterized by their volatile, insecure and lawlessness nature, many agencies started to face serious challenges in the accomplishment of their tasks. When their humanitarian programs seemed jeopardized or when the ‘droit d’ingérence’ was hampered or when the advocacy initiatives did not produce any visible results, several mainline relief agencies started to openly deplore the restrictions to their actions and to plead Western governments and the UN for more political commitments and military protection (Barnett 2005:727; Rieff 2002:26). Yet, these appeals both reinforced the politicized and militarized perception of their action and weakened the credibility of their neutrality. Furthermore, the positive answers to these requests often put the humanitarian actors in the embarrassing and controversial situation to implement their programs next to international contingents deployed to the same area under an international political resolution in order to secure the ‘humanitarian space’. At field level, these generally labeled ‘westerners’ were seen helping and condemning at the same time in the same country and this blurred image shadowed the charitable character of agencies’ actions and highlighted the political nature of their advocacy.

Thirdly, the implementation of rights-based advocacy strategy seems to have engendered simultaneous positive and negative outcomes. As the RBA is “people-centered” (Jones 2000: 39) suffering populations were no longer referred to as ‘victim’ or ‘beneficiaries’ of Western generosity but as dignified ‘rights-holders’ the humanitarians could help to protect from the abuses of the corresponding ‘duty-bearer’. The consequent rights-based advocacy re-shifted the focus from the interveners and their right ‘to’ access the vulnerable people back to the war affected populations and their right ‘of’ accessing humanitarian assistance and protection. Yet, although “raising awareness of human rights is prerequisite to their achievement” (Jones 2000: 39) agencies did not re-shift the articulation of their discourse accordingly from the public denunciation of the operational restrictions back to the promotion of people’s rights. Instead, between the “violations and (…) promotional approach” (Jones 2000: 39) they seem to have married to the former and divorced from the latter and simply re-oriented the blaming formula towards the denunciation of human rights violations (OCHA 2007).

Fourthly, when the medium/long-term vision intrinsic in both the ‘Wilsonian’ philosophy and the realization of human rights collided with the urgency of the crises, agencies started to add a ‘hic et nunc’ element to their advocacy initiatives. In order to give an impelling character to their appeals they often chose to push the key players to publicly face their humanitarian responsibilities. In overestimating the assumption that “exposing the parties to the conflict to the judgment of the public is the best way to exert positive pressure” (Minear and Smith 2007:104) many agencies started to exploit the immediacy of the media and to attract their attention by privileging the ’speaking out’ approach or pushing for highly mediatized forms of aggressive advocacy.

Lastly, the increased exploitation of the television to channel public advocacy coupled with the media’s practices of focusing on the latest ‘bad news’ often brought to the television screen the fundraising appeals for the latest sudden-onset complex emergencies while the humanitarian and financial needs of other chronic crises experienced more difficulties in receiving attention. Furthermore, the competition in the relief market becoming increasingly crowded with the mushrooming of new small agencies desperately looking for the mass visibility offered by the cross-border media sometimes produced perverse results. On the one hand, the rivalry to occupy the ‘mediascape’ pushed some agencies to attract media’s attention by “citing the highest numbers of victims” (Minear and al 1996:67). On the other, the interest of the media in a specific crisis promoted either the implementation of photogenic activities rather than the needed interventions or the concentration of humanitarian programs in zones more covered by television while ignoring other areas off the media light (Mohamed Sacirbey quoted in Gowing 1994:11). But, when these blameworthy circumstances came into light they cast serious doubts about the professionalism and accountability of humanitarian interveners and enhanced the perception that advocacy initiatives were primarily visibility-driven. Advocacy started to be seen aiming at exploiting the television to raise money, at promoting agencies’ work and at satisfying donors’ need to know that their money was being effectively spent rather than at pleading the cause of the vulnerable. The “distinction between doing good and being seen to be doing good” (Pupavac 2006:266) became increasingly blurred.

3.3. A conceptual explanation and a theoretical interpretation for the advocacy deviation

From the conceptual perspective, advocacy’s deviation seems to occur when the circle of the public humanitarian advocacy process is interrupted. In theory, this sees agencies using public advocacy to frame a specific humanitarian issue at stake in the mind of key political actors or to raise the general public awareness about a humanitarian concern. These initiatives are assumed to influence political leaders’ opinion and to mobilize large constituencies eventually enabling the agencies to put an indirect pressure on decision-makers and engender their appropriate responses and actions affecting the humanitarian issues. Yet, from a more realistic angle, the circle of such process is not always closed either because the advocacy does not succeed in influencing the political leadership or in mobilizing the constituencies or because the decision-makers do not feel the pressure of a successful mobilization. The list of the top-ten neglected crises that yearly shows the same few underreported emergencies highlights the challenges faced by the humanitarian agencies in mobilizing global attention and support. The delay of the international community intervention in Rwanda was also due to the limited impact of the advocacy efforts. The Sudanese government has demonstrated indifference to both activists’ international outcry and the pressure from western public opinion on the plight of the people in Darfur. Observations of past examples would reveal that when the efforts to mobilize the general public were unsuccessful some agencies have often entered into a spiral of public advocacy actions and kept on trying different strategies and initiatives. This insistence often transformed advocacy into an end in itself rather than a means to achieve agencies’ objectives and its initiatives into activities ‘just for the sake of doing advocacy’ or with strictly fundraising and visibility goals. Conversely, when decision-makers turned to be non responsive to successful public mobilization some humanitarians have often shown the penchant to increase the tone of their communication or to reorient their strategy of putting pressure by using direct attacks to governments and their responsibilities or calling for external political and military interventions. The crises in Rwanda and Darfur are cases in point. The general negative connotations that the word advocacy has assumed in recent years basically stems from the tendency of an increasing number of operational agencies to resort to this aggressive approach, not only, when the circle did not close but, also, as their deliberate main public advocacy strategy.

Conner’s “strategy and stance advocacy framework” (Conner 2005) provides a more theoretical structure through which the different advocacy approaches can be interpreted. Referring to advocacy in its general terms, Conner argues that the ’strategies’ that can be used to “cause the target [of advocacy] to change (…) can be arrayed along a continuum from ‘push’ to ‘pull’ where push strategies are coercive and pull strategies are invitational” (Conner 2005:7-8). Conversely, the ’stance’, which is the attitude or frame of mind through which an advocacy person/agency “relates to the target (…) [of advocacy], fall[s] on a continuum between friend and foe” (Conner 2005:7-8). The combination of these strategies and stances produces four broad styles into which advocacy initiatives can be categorized. Limiting the application of this framework to the focus of this paper it can be said that the ‘pull-friend’ combination seems to be typical of advocacy initiatives producing the expected results and therefore typical of a closed circle of the advocacy process. Conversely, the direct attack on decision makers and their responsibilities would fall into ‘push-foe’ box characterized by the strategy of delegitimizing the other and the attitude of considering the other through negative lenses, if not an enemy. Conner warns that when falling within this last combination both sides enter what he calls the “advocacy trap” (Conner 2005:10) in which each side feels justified to continue using ‘push-foe’ tactics and to blame the other’s behavior. Conner sees two risks connected to this approach. The first is that both sides enter what he calls the “circle of blame” (Conner 2005:13) that intertwined with the advocacy trap might distort advocacy person/agency from “fulfilling the calling that drew them into public advocacy in the first place” (Conner 2005:15). The second is that both sides become “locked in [a] ritual combat” (Conner 2005:10) in which they continue to use push strategies from a foe stance long after it is evident that they can no longer achieve their advocacy objectives (Conner 2005:10). The case of Darfur is a relevant illustration of this latter scenario. At the beginning of the crisis, some agencies started to speak out to condemn the ‘genocide’. The Sudanese authorities responded by accusing them of Western interference. The agencies denounced the operational hampering and so on. The ritual combat still continues today with these two foes still reciprocally blaming and delegitimizing one another.

3.4. Challenges, limits, defies and dilemmas

Differently from other field, when in conflict situations agencies engage in advocacy initiatives with the expanded ‘Wilsonian’ scope and ambition the potential for confrontation with the local leadership increases (Haug 2001:2) for its obvious political implications. Together with this expansion, the burgeoning of public initiatives brought to light the challenges of balancing advocacy with the concept of humanitarian imperative as well as with the core principles of humanity and neutrality. The tension with the humanitarian imperative seems to stem from the mainly medium/long-term view of the advocacy’s goals aiming at attacking the root political causes of suffering that collides with the short-term pragmatism of the humanitarian imperative aiming at saving lives and providing immediate assistance. The clash with the principle of humanity seems to be two-fold. The first arises because the expanded political contours of advocacy diverge from the principle of humanity whose formulation ensures that the humanitarian action remains non-political and that the political considerations do not prevail over the humanitarian concerns. The second relates to the conflict between the advocacy initiatives calling for ethical military interventions to protect populations in severe danger and the moral aspect intrinsic in the principle of humanity stating that all human beings are to be treated humanely. When such appeals resulted in the killing of some people in order to prevent and alleviate the suffering of other, advocacy showed its double standard that clearly deviated from the equality of treatment promoted by the principle of humanity. The framing of public initiatives in terms of condemnation of human rights violations seems to highlight the challenges of reconciling advocacy with neutrality. By promoting the rights of one side or condemning the other for abusing or violating such rights, advocacy becomes visibly incompatible with the equidistant position outlined by the principle of neutrality.

In the humanitarian crises increasingly induced by politically-laden and intrastate conflicts five aspects seem to have both engendered additional challenges in the implementation of the rights-based advocacy as strategy and introduced some limits to its use. Firstly, in situations like the conflict ‘where the stomachs are empty’, talks about rights lack legitimacy (Uvin 2009). Secondly, the fact that the Human Rights Law (HRL) expresses its content largely in the genre of “manifesto” (Feinberg quoted in Finnis 1980:214) listing a series of “peremptory” and “conclusory”, “assertions” (Finnis 1980: 218) seems to have fostered a militant attitude in agencies’ advocacy efforts. Thirdly, in order to ‘come to earth’ this body of law requires to be translated into “specific three-term relations” (Finnis 1980: 218) in which the rights-holder(s) and the duty-bearer(s) are clearly indentified and the elements of the rights-duties equation clearly outlined (Finnis 1980: 218-9). Yet, while in the human rights system the accountability of the state is clearly defined as “the principal duty holder under international law” (Windfuhr 2000:35) the liability of the others duty-bearer(s) seems not. Harbored in their vague, split and morally impenetrable liability, humanitarian were in their ‘win-win position’ that allowed them to use the militant attitude and the accusatory tones in their advocacy while avoiding the blame. This approach has exacerbated their already challenging relationship with duty-holders. Fourthly, HRL is an international binding instrument for the signatory states but not for non-state actors (NSA). This appears to make the essence of the right-based advocacy workable with the former but unsuitable for the latter. Unless the NSA declares its sensitiveness to the HRL, any attempt of rights-based advocacy to use the denouncing tones would produce feeble results. Lastly, the fact that human rights form a single indivisible package and that they cannot be ranked on a hierarchical scale seems to weaken also the strategy of the right-based advocacy with the states. Uvin argues that in the reality of the conflicts, where the needs are huge and the resources scarce, even the most committed government would face serious defies in implementing core rights such as the right to food (Uvin 2009). Advocating for impossible core rights would weaken the strategy. Advocating with less decisive tones for core rights difficult to implement due to the objective restrictions would justify exceptions that are simply unacceptable from both the RBA and HRL perspectives.

The overuse by the operational organizations of public advocacy initiatives structured in the deviated form of public denunciation widened further the challenges of advocacy that became increasingly “difficult (…) not to be judged as deeply politicized” (ODI 2007 October). This pushed agencies’ action, apolitical by mandate, to face the growing defies stemming from being perceived as integrated into the realm of politics. Two other elements complicated even further their position. The first is the mushrooming of purely human rights advocacy agencies that, generally speaking, privilege provocative outcries aimed at calling for interventions against rights-violating governments or at blaming state authorities for not acting appropriately. The extended use of controversial and strong approaches by the operational organizations blurred their differences from the purely advocacy agencies fostering the tendency to put all the agencies under the same label and to consider all public humanitarian advocacy based on political and public denunciation actions. The second is the globalization that extended the consequences of their strong public advocacy positions across political and geographical boundaries and increased the risks of double standard criticisms stemming from a global/local public communication inconsistency.

Sometimes, local authorities reacted to this deviated connotation of advocacy by re-framing the agencies’ action within the political terms of interference with their sovereignty and by interpreting their human rights-based advocacy as a further articulation of the Western cultural and values imperialism. The public advocacy in Darfur is a case in point. Although within the humanitarian community it is not denied that especially during the 2004 it helped both to rally the global attention on the barely known plight of Darfurians and to push the crisis onto the international agenda many humanitarians emphasize the complex drawbacks that this engendered. At best, strong advocacy actions triggered the rift between the humanitarian community and the Sudanese Government. The reference of the Sudanese President to the humanitarians as “the real enemies of Sudan” (Reeves 2008) summarizes this thorny relationship. At worst, they created significant operational complications. One practical illustration of this is the arrest of MSF’s senior official in May 2005 after the publication of a report about their concerns for the rape in Darfur. But examples of harassment, arrest or of a ‘persona non grata’ stamp on aid workers’ passport abound. In some occasions, the retort of local authority translated into the expulsion of the agencies from the country with serious humanitarian consequences stemming for the impossibility to provide further assistance. In the 1980s, because of their public position, MSF and the ICRC were forced to dismiss their operation in Ethiopia (Minear and Weiss 1993:67). In March 2009, the Sudanese government expelled several humanitarian agencies whose reports and public declarations are believed to have helped the decision of the International Criminal Court to issue an arrest warrant for President Al-Bashir (Rice 2009).

These and other similar incidents fostered many operational agencies to evaluate the impact and repercussions of their strong advocacy on both the ongoing and future field programs as well as on the security of their field staff. The growing challenges forced them to face the dilemma to which extent an aggressive public advocacy is compatible with their pragmatic priorities. For, when the consequences of a strong advocacy are that the implementation of their programs is hampered, their presence in the field is vetoed and the security of aid workers is threatened, their raison d’être of accessing vulnerable populations is undermined. Yet, when the alternative of eschewing strong stands or of relying on softer options was considered a second dilemma surfaced. Some operational agencies started to ponder whether through this latter approach they were entirely fulfilling their responsibilities in line with their ‘Wilsonian’ philosophy and those that did exposed themselves “to criticism for having applied a Band-aids to systemic problems” (Minear and Weiss 1993:67). Research on the communication initiatives about the crises in Darfur would show that at a later phase, some agencies that had faced operational problems started to adopt a lower profile, if not a virtually silence. Furthermore, apart from few exceptions, agencies started to re-centre their advocacy on issues relating to humanitarian assistance (ODI 2007 October; Gidley 2007; HPG 2007:3) and to avoid further strong public positions that could complicate and restrict their actions or oblige them to dismiss their operations.

Today, there seems to be two tendencies. The first is to doubt that advocacy is critical to successful humanitarian actions or at least to agree that its “positive impact is by no means proven” (O’Callaghan quoted in Gidley 2007). The second is to reduce the above dilemmas to the equation of discretion with efficiency and to the dichotomy of ’speaking out’ or ‘remain silent’. This paper shares the views considering these conclusions too simplistic. Concerning the first, the above analysis shows that the essence of the issue is not the validity or effectiveness of the public advocacy but rather its past misuse that transformed its initiatives limitless in their range and blurred in their objectives. Vague public actions aiming at appealing the international community to ‘do something, anything’ or invoking the ‘never again’ formula make the strategy blunt and its eventual poor results should not put in to question the usefulness of humanitarian advocacy as a whole. Concerning the second, juxtaposing public advocacy to operational constraints and strong public advocacy to the failure to tackle roots causes of crises seems to be a superficial conclusion as in both cases the former is only one of the arrays of variables influencing the latter. Furthermore, humanitarian agencies do not walk on the tightrope of public advocacy between accusation and silence. There is a vast spectrum of stances available in-between. Among them the possibility to engage in public initiatives framed within strict humanitarian terms or based on the advocacy’s original meanings. The following two examples seem to confirm the feasibility of a more balanced approach.

3.5. Public humanitarian advocacy in humanitarian terms and within the advocacy’s original meaning: two examples.

The first example concerns the specific ICRC’s public communication approach. Its analysis seems to confirm that even in a highly mediatized and politicized environment, such as for instance the Darfur crisis when it started to be a cause célèbre, it is possible to advocate the plight of the suffering populations and raise awareness on their hardship without falling into the political and public denunciation framework. During the most intense phase of the humanitarian advocacy on Darfur, the second and third quarters of 2004 (HPG 2007:2), the framing of public advocacy of many agencies progressively shifted from matters concerning the humanitarian context, assistance and funding needs to issues relating to insecurity, international intervention to resolve the crisis and human rights violations (HPG 2007:2). In his function of ICRC communication coordinator in Khartoum, the author[2] recalls the strong advocacy positions of some agencies denouncing the plight of the populations in Darfur in terms of ‘genocide’ and their ’speaking out’ approach about the operational hampering they were experiencing. He also remembers the effort of some agencies to mark their distance and distinction from this general strong public stand (HPG 2007:6). Finally, the author recalls the nuanced approach of the ICRC that, in line with its public communication policy[3], did not join the condemnation euphoria of the moment often reducing the conflict to the stereotyped dichotomy of ‘good and bad guys’. During this intense communication phase on Darfur, the ICRC’s public communication was based on regular bulletins and operational updates and on the appeals to the parties to the conflict to respect the fundamental rules of the IHL. With a better understanding of the situation in Darfur, based on the results of a food-need assessment published in September 2004, the ICRC started to frame its public communication in the humanitarian terms of food insecurity of the rural communities and, in line with its communication policy, kept people’s daily challenges and needs at the centre of its messages (ICRC 2004). In this later phase, the ICRC continued to use its typical communication framework urging all parties to the conflict to abide by the IHL’s obligations demanding the respect and protection for the ‘non-combatants’ which represent a concrete way of pleading the cause and the ‘rights’ of the vulnerable but from its mirrored perspective. The author recalls that within the ICRC there was the widespread confidence that such approach had allowed the organization to experience less challenges in keeping its access to vulnerable populations.This is not to suggest that the ICRC never condemns. It does. In August 2004, talking about Sudan, ICRC President publicly referred to grave violation of IHL. Another example dates June 2007 and concerned the situation in Myanmar. But, in line with its public communication policy, the ICRC usually considers this option its second or third best alternative, it delivers carefully worded statement avoiding one-sided or at least too explicit condemnations of individual parties to conflict and typically uses it when other persuasion means have failed and this option shows clear benefits for the victims (Kellenberger 2004:600-4).

The second example concerns the International Campaign to Ban the Landmines (ICBL) widely celebrated as one of the most successful examples of public humanitarian advocacy. Its main comparative advantages have been summarizes in three dimensions: effective coalition building, favourable negotiating conditions and clear campaign messaging (Hubert 2000a:57). Knowing that advocacy by individual agencies is necessarily limited, the humanitarian community succeeded in building a transnational activism around the landmine cause and in acting as united “global conscience” (Nye 2002:66) capable of fostering a worldwide “mobilization of shame” (DeChaine 2005:115). This collective approach was buttressed, at global level, by a strategic use of a powerful mix of communication tools including media, campaigning, lobbying, celebrity and the Internet and, at local level, by a ’strategy of localism’ allowing to tailor the advocacy efforts. The analysis of the campaign shows four points relevant to the present discussion. Firstly, its structure allowed tackling one of the worst causes of suffering in conflict-related crises keeping the messages away from the slippery ground of politics. By “reframing the (…) issue away from its status as political and military issue to the realm of humanitarianism” (DeChaine 2005:107; Hubert 2000a:xii) it succeeded in persuading the decision-makers of the humanitarian dimensions of the concern and in making very difficult for them “to resist the logic of the ban” (Hubert 2000a:xii). Many other arguments could have been used to buttress this initiative but the essence of its messages was continuously focused on the human costs that outweighed the military utility of the landmines (Hubert 2000a:29). It is the framing of the issue in humanitarian terms that constituted the main strength of the advocates and the main weakness of their opponents (Hubert 2000a:64). Secondly, its approach made possible to ‘denounce’ the responsibilities, instead of the people responsible, without fearing the repercussions on humanitarian field activities (MSF website quoted on Lindenberg and Bryant 2001: 199). Being a single issue of concern to many countries, those producing or using the landmines were not publicly blamed. Yet, by deciding not to sign the Ottawa Treaty few notorious countries singled out their own responsibilities vis-à-vis an issue on which there was a large global consensus. Thirdly, its communication pushed into the background the right of access ‘to’ victims of humanitarian agencies and repositioned at the center of the public advocacy the plight and the right ‘of’ the victims. Finally, its advocacy and communication objectives were clear since the beginning: the ratification of an international treaty. To sum up, this advocacy success seems to confirm that although an issue might be at the intersection between the political domain and the humanitarian action, it is still possible to intervene in the former without compromising the latter. Moreover, it suggests that “even where multiple discourses are available (…) advocacy is often best couched within explicitly humanitarian terms” (Hubert 2000a:65).

3.6. Other examples

Researches would probably reveal other agencies’ communication initiatives equal/similar to the ICRC’s example analyzed above. Yet, they would also highlight the lack of consistency showed by the ICRC and this, most likely, due to an ill-defined communication strategy if not the absence of a public communication policy. Conversely the analysis of other campaigns shaped on the ICBL model and its humanitarian framing is possible and this could help identifying the main limits of such approach useful for future initiatives. These campaigns are the creation of the International Criminal Court (ICC), the banning of Child Soldier (CS) and the restriction on the proliferation of Small Arms (SA) campaigns (Hubert 2000a: 41) considered, together with the ICBL, both the “innovations in humanitarian advocacy” (Hubert 2000b) and the learning cases for future initiatives. In order to remain focused to the subject, the investigation will concentrate on two common aspects relevant to the present discussion. These are the campaigns’ focus on humanitarian objectives and their messages coined within an explicit humanitarian discourse (Hubert 2000a: 57). The analysis will also attempt to evaluate the weight of such humanitarian framing on the varying degrees of their acknowledged results.

There seem to be a large consensus on considering the ICBL and ICC as winning campaigns and their produced results, the Ottawa Treaty and the Rome Statute, respectively a ‘triumph’ and an “impressive success” (Hubert 2000a: xiii). Furthermore, there seems to be a shared opposite opinion on the CS campaign whose advocacy “can hardly be called a success” (Hubert 2000a: 47) and on its outcome, the optional Protocol to the Convention on the Rights of the Child, rather considered an ‘accomplishment’. Finally, in the case of SA campaign, the agreement seems to be that the progress in recognizing the issue in humanitarian terms is relatively modest (Hubert 2000a: xiii) and that the impacting results of its advocacy campaign are still to come.

Two fundamental elements could help explaining this decreasing chart. The first is the different relevance of each issue to the “normative space” (O’Dwyer 2006:78) of the IHL and its overall objective of reducing the human costs of war. While for the ICBL and ICC campaigns the relevance of their issue to the normative space of IHL is self-evident for the other two this is more challenging to establish. For the CS, it would be arduous to claim a direct correlation between the reduction of the number of active young soldiers and the decrease of the human costs of war. For the SA, it would be difficult to stress the relevance of the issue to the normative space of IHL because this is applied only during the armed conflicts while the small arms are equally common in conflict and peace time. As the prevention and reduction of the human costs of war represents not only the main IHL’s objective but also the essence of the humanitarian framing of the issue in a campaign, the weak relevance to the IHL’s normative space of the CS issue and the essence of the SA issue diluted between the IHL and HRL seem to have contributed in making the humanitarian discourse of their campaigns less convincing.

The second element concerns the provisions aimed by the campaigns and the impact they could have on the countries’ internal and military affairs if they are ratified. Banning and replacing the landmines with other weaponry capable of obtaining the same military results, but with a reduced human cost, could still satisfy armies’ warfare needs. Therefore, the Ottawa Treaty could hardly be seen as interfering in internal military affairs. Countries committed to ‘play the game’ by the rules do not consider the ratification of the Rome Statute a hindrance to their warfare capacity but rather an opportunity to publicize they law-abiding attitude. Conversely, the impact of the provisions aimed by both the CS and the SA campaigns seems to be relevant. Concerning the former, the recruitment of new soldiers responds not only to the need to confront the ‘other side’ but also, if not more, to the need to defend ‘our side’. Differently from the landmines, troops are irreplaceable and although countries might be sensitive to the humanitarian discourse of the CS issue some of them are more reticent to subscribe clauses that by restricting the recruitment could, de facto, weaken their defense capabilities. Concerning the latter, the impact is even stronger as the provisions would collide with the ‘right’ to use the small arms for self-defense in peace time deeply rooted in some cultures (O’Dwyer 2006:91). The clear potential impact of the intended provisions of the former on the countries’ military affairs and of the latter on their internal affairs seems to have contributed to undermine the humanitarian framing of their campaigns.

4. Conclusions

Despite being at the heart of conflict-related humanitarianism, nowadays advocacy seems to have lost its value-neutral denotation and its original and positive meaning. In this sense, this paper has argued that it has become a ‘good word gone bad’ especially when referred to public advocacy. The discussion has evidenced that with the time advocacy has assumed a negative significance due to its widespread political interpretation, denouncing strategy, aggressive approach and visibility goals. The analysis has highlighted the main reasons behind this deviation, explained and interpreted it through conceptual and theoretical frameworks and outlined the challenges, limits and dilemmas that it has engendered. The examination of the ICRC’s public communication approach during the emergency phase in Darfur and the ICBL have shown the feasibility of advocacy initiatives framed within its original and positive meaning. From the study of these examples and other international campaigns few elements seem to emerge that could contribute to stimulate the future reflections on the contours of this core humanitarian function.

The promising path for future campaigns in conflict-related humanitarianism seems to be within the boundaries of “enhancing restrictions on the production and use of weapons and strengthening the legal protection afforded to civilians in situations of armed conflict” (Hubert 2000a: 65). Such ‘public issue-based advocacy’ at cross boundaries level (either regional or global) seems to show two main advantages when it is implemented by a coalition of agencies that share the vision of a ‘glocal’ strategy, the approach based on the ’shame’ rather than on the ‘blame’ and the policy of denouncing the responsibilities rather than people responsible. The coalition could exert a stronger pressure while the single agencies could face less repercussion on their field activities. The humanitarian concerns with a strong relevance to the normative space of IHL and a weak impact on countries’ military and internal affairs seem to offer better chances of success. Issues seen to cause human consequences that go beyond the immediate and direct effects engendered by the conflict appear to present even more promising prospects. Framing the conflict-related issue in humanitarian terms is possible and advisable but this discourse tends to lose its strength when the issue behind the advocacy fails to be perceived in equally strong humanitarian terms. Humanitarian concerns relevant to simultaneously peace and conflict times seem to encounter deeper challenges in their promotion. The consequent advocacy campaign with its ambition to aim at multiple goals difficult to equally achieve and its discourse diluted between the IHL and the HRL frameworks would produce modest outcomes and a watered impact on the issue.

At country level, single agencies could integrate the follow ups of such ‘public issue-based advocacy’ campaigns with ‘public need-based advocacy’ initiatives that appear to be successful when they are implemented by an actor knowledgeable about the needs it intends to meet. From the analysis above it appears that the ‘public rights-based advocacy’ is a less suitable approach in today’s humanitarian crises increasingly induced by politically-laden and intrastate conflicts. Its penchant to exacerbate the unresolved contradiction between the principle of sovereignty and the promotion of human rights widens the potential of confrontation between the humanitarians and local governments making this tool inappropriate. Its production of questionable short-term results and unsatisfactory scenario for the humanitarian action on the long-term make this strategy blunt. Instead, agencies should complement their public advocacy efforts with an ‘IHL-based advocacy’ and make more explicit links between HRL and IHL that continues to offer significant comparative advantages in today’s ‘complex emergencies’. Among other the fact that IHL framing does not involve politicization; that with its “bilingualism” (Slim 2002:9) IHL clearly outlines the rights of non-combatants and explicitly define the rules/duties of the combatants; that the rights expressed in the IHL, representing the so-called ‘noyeau dur’ of human rights common to both HRL and IHL, are non-derogable rights; that all the parties to the conflict, both states and NSA, are bound by this body of law. In other words, as Slim suggests, “the best means of maintaining a humanitarianism of rights when those rights are contested is by emphasizing IHL over human rights law” (Slim 2002:24). The boundaries suggested by Hubert for future campaigns seem in line with this view as they correspond to the two main objectives of IHL. However, agency should not expect everyone to be knowledgeable about international law and include knowledge creation among their core tasks. Furthermore, due to the security challenges increasingly experienced by the aid-workers this country level public communication activity should receive particular consideration and resources.

The behind-the-scenes approach seems to be more appropriate for the ‘rights-based advocacy’, at both global and local level, as it would most certainly defuse the confrontation and therefore allow the agency to have a more constructive exchange with its interlocutors on both their duties to respect core human rights and their eventual responsibilities for not respecting them.

The reality of today’s conflict-related humanitarianism seems to evidence that the credibility of the action is compromised, that the meaning of the word advocacy is discredited and the validity of this core function put into question. The post-9/11 reality seems to have added an additional challenge as it has weakened humanitarians’ voice by pushing out of contexts their expertise on ’soft issues’ overshadowed by the ‘crusade’s priorities’ of the global agenda (O’Dwyer 2006). The ‘Cluster Approach’ seems to be the latest tool developed to improve effectiveness of the humanitarian response to emergencies by enhancing agencies’ commitment to coordination and accountability. Concerning advocacy, community wise there seems to be a clearly expressed need to better understand its role and limits. This need should inspire the internal debate aiming at fine-tuning a public communication strategy in line with each agency’s financial and human assets if not at outlining a public communication policy shared communitywide. This strategic thinking could also help the humanitarian community identifying how to formulate and convey a ‘humanitarian story’ capable of winning, in the short and long terms, the heart and mind of all its interlocutors and, possibly, contribute to improve the credibility of its action.

Footnotes

[1] Dunantist refers to Henry Dunant founder of the Red Cross Movement. Wilsonian refers to Woodrow Wilson’s who believed that is was possible and desirable both to transform political, economic, and cultural structures so that they liberated individuals and produced peace and progress and to attack the root causes that leave populations at risk. (Barnett 2005:728)

[2] The reflections included in this paragraph reflect the views and the analysis of the author alone and not necessarily those of the ICRC.

[3] In 2004, ICRC Assembly adopted an internal doctrine on public communication policy titled “ICRC public communication: Policy, guiding principles and priority audiences” (ICRC internal document). Broadly speaking this policy is based on the guiding communication principles of credibility, identity and impact. It establishes a public policy framework within which both the ICRC communication initiatives are originated and developed and its communication strategies at local, regional and global levels are outlined.

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Several puzzles lie at the center of the controversy regarding the right to asylum, some historical and political, others conceptual and ethical. The right to asylum has been recognized as a duty of humanity since the ancient period; why did it lose its status as posing an absolute universal duty in the mid-20th century? Is the answer strictly a political one, as Hannah Arendt suggests, [1] that when millions of political refugees were left stateless between the two world wars in Europe, opening one’s borders to these political refugees was viewed as a threat to the sovereignty of the European nation states at which they arrived. Similarly, the sheer numbers problem has been offered as the reason why President Clinton withdrew his promise to accept Haitian refugees when the Haitian state experienced vast chaos and political violence; it was estimated that tens of thousands of Haitians would be arriving on U.S. shores shortly before the Presidential election. [2]

Arendt further argues that the right to asylum as it was interpreted by the participating nations drawing up the UN International Protocol Regarding Refugees [3] was primarily motivated by the objective of protecting individual state sovereignty. This explains why the 20th century interpretation of the right to asylum was couched in terms of the right of non-refoulement, i.e. not being sent back to the site of persecution. As such, it’s being interpreted as a negative right, rather than the positive right to the resources that were needed to restore the persecuted or traumatized refugees to a level of physical and psychological functioning and well-being essential to exercising powers of citizenship and meaningful membership in community life. As an expression of sovereignty on the part of nation states in the mid- to late 20th century the right to non-refoulement (rather than the right to hospitality or the right to basic need satisfaction of persecuted and traumatized asylum seekers), it poses significantly fewer demands on the sate, and therefore constitutes less of a threat to sovereignty. In addition, given the historical and conceptual connections between state sovereignty and authority over one’s borders, and, in general, over issues of inclusion and exclusion, none-refoulement is consistent with sending refugees to third countries, in particular, those they may have passed through to arrive at the territory at which they’re seeking asylum.

Originally the concept “asylum” was linked to its Greek origin as meaning the right of non-seizure or arrest; it later became understood as a right of protection from serious harm, e.g. persecution, and historically has been responded to in a variety of forms. Humanitarian intervention has entailed either evacuation to a safe or at least safer place, although genocide has also elicited a response of military intervention, regarded as an alternative form of humanitarian intervention. In addition, asylum seekers have often fled from genocide by walking hundreds of miles to bordering states, where they have been given refuge in refugee camps; or have used other forms of transportation to arrive at distant territories, where they have faced long periods of incarceration in detention centers awaiting processing of their applications. Little attention has been paid in many camps and detention centers to their traumatized condition, but such sites do fit the criterion of providing protection or non-refoulement.

One way to resolve the ethical puzzle as to which specific duty is entailed by the right to asylum is to ask whether the right encompasses both a positive and a negative duty. Rather than viewing the possible responses nation states can provide to people seeking to escape genocide as essentially issues of application to be resolved on the basis of pragmatic criteria, the alternative is to interpret the right to asylum as entailing both positive and negative claims on potential host countries. As a negative right, the right to asylum for individuals seeking to escape genocide can be understood as an absolute right not to be killed gratuitously, i.e., outside the context of a war, and regardless of whether or not one surrenders to the military or paramilitary personnel doing the killing. [4] As such, it needs to be distinguished conceptually from the right of economic migrants to emigrate to a country where they can live a decent life. As a positive claim on host countries, it differs from other rights based in the right to life of potential victims, because it’s being claimed by a group that may have already been substantially harmed in their flight from genocide, as witnesses to some of the cruelest, most inhumane acts of barbarism committed against humanity. As a positive right, it can be viewed as a duty to necessitous strangers to be restored to the level of physical and psychological health and functioning essential to exercising the powers and capacities of personhood and citizenship.

The following essay attempts to provide support for this particular resolution of these issues by considering the writings of both Hannah Arendt on stateless people in the 20th century, Derrida’s writings on cosmopolitan cities of refuge and the duty of hospitality, and empirical and narrative accounts of political refugees’ situations in refugee camps worldwide.

Arendt on Stateless People.

What’s distinctively valuable about Arendt’s analysis of the plight of refugees during the European wars of the 20th century is the focus on their essential state of rightlessness. As stateless people, refugees are denied the basic political status of being a person, i.e. if they lack the basic right to have rights, in contrast to what Arendt refers to as a mere human being. For Arendt this means they have no public forum in which they can make claims to have their basic human rights or political rights recognized. It would seem that the primary object of her concern with the needs of the stateless people would have been the suffering they experienced when denied their basic human rights to subsistence, shelter, medical treatment, etc. But it’s not the suffering the German Jews and other Europeans experienced in the refugee camps in the 20th century that primarily concerns her: it’s that they were powerless to do anything about such suffering resulting from being denied a forum in which to claim their basic human rights.

Some interesting implications for the recognition of the right to asylum in the 21st century follow from this interpretation of Arendt’s analysis: that the right to asylum is not solely to the claim to have one’s suffering mitigated, whether in the form of medical treatment, food, water, shelter, access to one’s family, etc. Although lack of access to these basic goods entails one’s being denied basic human rights, it does not entail a duty to provide asylum even when such suffering is a result of fleeing genocide. Humanitarian aid can be provided in refugee camps in the same country as the genocide is occurring or in bordering countries, where they may be denied the opportunity to become integrated as citizens into the host country. Such refugee camps can be interpreted as minimal first-responses to the protection from genocide and persecution asylum seekers require. But refugee camps, in particular those in countries bordering the site of genocide or persecution, do not ameliorate the situation Arendt regards as essential to the asylum seeker as stateless persons: the most basic right to claim one’s rights and have them enforced as citizens in a democratic political forum.

Refugee camps do not change the essential political status of refugees as stateless persons occupying a no man’s land where even their basic subsistence needs may not be met. They’re often places where females are regularly raped by enemy forces or lawless predators, where militias or rebel groups abduct children into fighting forces, where disease and malnutrition add to the loss of lives, and where illiteracy and separation from one’s family and communities makes reintegration into social life in the future very difficult. They vary in the level of danger with which refugees must cope depending on the political will and circumstances of the country in which the camps are located. [5]

Understanding why Arendt’s focus is not on ameliorating the suffering of refugees in these camps or on the move to safety but rather on enabling them to regain political status requires an understanding of what Arendt believes was lost with regard to personhood in the concentration camps run by the totalitarian regimes in the mid-20th century. Prisoners in these camps were deprived of what Arendt conceives of as the essence of human freedom: the ability to take initiative with regard to one’s fate. The capacities for natality (beginning something new) and spontaneity give political action and speech in the public realm of democratic decision-making its distinctive value for persons as democratic citizens. Loss of membership in the state for Arendt is tantamount to losing the right to make one’s claims heard in the political realm, including the claim to basic human rights, a claim refugees currently can only hope to be recognized by the international community. Without the political institutions that citizenship gives access to, refugees can appeal to philanthropy, NGO’s, acquiescent border guards and bordering countries, but they can’t voiced their claims as a matter of right. They can only hope to affect the political will of any of these groups, a result that can depend on a variety of arbitrary factors, including economic resources, and as well as political relationships among ethnic groups,

The most fundamental right that refugees are being denied while stateless is of such paramount importance to Arendt because of its relationship to the value of personhood: autonomy, natality, spontaneity, and freedom as initiative over one’s fate. Although occupancy in some camps have provided minimal opportunities for political organizing, political influence and limited control over their living conditions, these opportunities can’t begin to approximate those of citizens who can utilize the political realm in democratic nations and be accorded equality of rights satisfaction that’s provided to citizens as a matter of right. [6] Arendt’s arguments take on a particular significance when applied to the situation of the right to asylum of refugees fleeing genocide. In her essay entitled “We Refugees” she castigates the German Jews she’s met while a refugee in France and then later as a citizen of the U.S. for failing to keep their Jewish identity relatively intact and instead eschewing it for the sake of assimilation into their host country. [7]

In The Origins of Totalitarianism, she had engaged in a similar attack on the “exception Jews” who were ancillary to the development of the burgeoning nation states in 19th century Europe, i.e., for failing to accept their responsibility for political engagement, thereby blinding themselves to the factors that precipitated their genocide in the 20th century at the hands of the Nazi regime. [8] For Arendt, retaining one’s identity as members of ethnic communities as well as achieving one’s own unique personal identity in the public realm in the context of human plurality and the other’s response to one’s claims are key to understanding what’s lost when one loses one’s political personhood. Yet, in “We Refugees” statelessness is described as a condition which imperils the lived experience of identity in community as well as the possibility of using the political realm to assure the opportunity for transmission of one’s cultural identity to one’s families. She describes the particularly painful loss of home which entails the familiarity of daily life, the loss of work and the attendant sense of usefulness, the loss of the opportunity to speak one’s own language and the natural reaction and spontaneous experiences of feelings it allows for, the loss of friends and family and the consequent rupture of private lives.

Much of Arendt’s criticism of the modern state in The Origins of Totalitarianism is based on its having reduced the public political realm with its tremendous potential for the discussion and resolution of genuinely political issues into a forum for social and economic interest satisfaction, with citizens often being reduced to clients. Yet the discussion presented in “We Refugees” of the tremendous input on the self’s identity, esteem and engagement in community life, when he is torn from the setting of home or ordinary life, reveals a different perspective on the relationship between the private and the public political realm and provides significant implications for refugees ‘ positive right to asylum. Of particular import here is the relationship between having political status and rights and issues of identity.

Liberal political institutions have historically been committed to protecting the private realm of family and household from the intrusion of the state based on the value of protecting the private individual’s identity, self-conception and private values. From such a liberal perspective, one’s identity is importantly linked to one’s actions, commitments and relationship s in one’s private life. Liberal political theory also puts great emphasis on the relationship between self-actualization and the freedom to express one’s views in the open marketplace of ideas. Arendt’s view that the public political realm being the site of identity formation in the context of plurality with different others challenging one’s views and identity, as well as validating them as distinctively one’s own, can be viewed as a distinctively liberal orientation.

Bringing these two separate lines of Arendt’s questioning together regarding the connection between identity and the political realm reveals an interesting set of issues for political refugees’ right to asylum, as the right to have rights. Issues of identity appear in two distinctively separate but related spheres, both for Arendt in her general political theory as well as for refugees with regard to the right to asylum. On one hand, the loss of home, continuity and familiarity inhibit refugee’s capacity for free, spontaneous political action given the connection between spontaneity and identity. A stable, unified self is better equipped to act spontaneously in the voicing of one’s political interests and rights, because she can react more confidently and self-assuredly because of her knowledge of her life plan, project, values and visions for one’s family and community. Separation from one’s family and community can bring about a sense of permanent separation, and can result in the diminution of the sense of pride in these affiliations that has sustained these people and provided much of their will to life in hostile, dangerous circumstances. Confidence in one’s self and pride in one’s community can allow for spontaneous political speech and initiative-taking by making it less likely a political agent will be vulnerable to merely reacting to other’s political rhetoric in an extremely vulnerable state of dependency as a refugee. [9] So, not only does the first-minimal response of protection and non-refoulement provided by refugee camps deny asylum seekers a forum for articulating what they envision as their best options for the future lives as members of stable, safe family and community members, the absence of such a forum means the loss of opportunities for mitigating the threat to their identity, an essential element for building stable, healthy communities for themselves in their post-refugee lives.

Yet, an important question still remains unanswered in Arendt’s analysis: is their being outsiders to both their former culture and nation state as well as foreigners to the state they’ve fled to that makes them marginal and disposable? Arendt’s most obvious response is that they’re being outsiders and therefore disposable is a function of their unable to claim their rights in a political forum. Her argument is that without a polity a person loses his humanity. Yet the access to a political forum to fight for their rights is hardly the primary concern of traumatized refugees who are attempting to transplant their cultural understandings in their host country. The paradigmatic context in which this freedom to act on one’s own initiative is linked to the extreme lack of it exemplified in the context of concentration camp prisoners. Viewed from this lens and based on her own experiences in fleeing Nazi genocide, it does seem clear that this capacity to act, rather than a mere animal capacity for behavior, is a fundamental type of human freedom. Secondly, there is a long philosophical tradition linking the freedom and opportunity to make one’s imprint on the world to the conditions for the development of the self and one’s identity. Thirdly, Arendt’s emphasis on the interest of a political refugee being that of the right to rights must be understood in light of these conceptual connections. It’s the move from being an object being acted on (in refugee camps, in being subjected to genocide) to being a subject that’s essential to understanding the situation of the refugee fleeing genocide.

But two problems arise with this solution to the problem stateless people fleeing civil war, persecution and genocide. One is the problem of recognizing how the value of such freedom to act depends on the presence of certain social and material prerequisites. Secondly, deprived of the family, culture, and social community which provide meaning to one’s action, as well as contribute to their efficacy, the benefits of self-actualization themselves are compromised. One clue to understanding why Arendt downplays these losses and their impact on political effectiveness can be gleaned from the following discussion in which Arendt is examining the aftermath of the experience of the horror of the camps: “A change of personality of any sort can no more be induced by the thinking about horrors than by the real experience of horror. The reduction of a man to a bundle of reactions separates him as radically as mental disease from everything within him that is personality or character unchanged, just as he left it.” [10] Even is this claim were substantiated by research on the lives of the concentration camp survivors of the Nazis, there is good reason not to make that assumption or draw further implications from it for 21st century survivors of genocide. Although the U.S. was not receptive to the requests for asylum made by the Jews escaping the Nazi’s genocide, Jewish communities worldwide have found the cause of Jews surviving World War II worth defending. Similarly, there was U.S government support for Cambodian refugees from the Khmer Rouge’s genocidal war against the Cambodians in the 70’s; however, this was linked to the U.S. own contribution to the chaos and loss of lives by the bombing of Cambodia towards the end of the Viet Nam war. The same support is currently not forthcoming for African survivors of genocide in Rwanda, Sudan or Dafur.

I will argue below that a new paradigm is needed for understanding how the recognition of refugees’ right to asylum must be based on a positive right to the resources needed to survive as functional citizens in host countries. This entails the opportunity and resources to draw from their cultural and family backgrounds the most basic material and psychological pre-requisites for citizenship. In addition, rather than viewing their primary role or political value in their host country as consisting in their fighting for their right in a political forum, I want to present a model of their potential contribution to the host country as “chameleon intermediaries”.

Refugee Camps as a Response to the Right to Asylum

The situation and prospects of asylum-seekers reveal strong reasons to regard their interests as constituting a right to asylum. The notion of right implies a correlative duty on specific duty holders, in this case the international community as a whole. Yet, several arguments have been posed that militate against the conclusion that any particular nation state must incur that duty as a matter of right. Michael Walzer approaches the issues of immigration rights in general from the viewpoint of communitarianism. [11] Essentially; his claim is that for communities within the larger nation state to retain their cultural autonomy without becoming fortresses of their own, a nation requires a sovereign government with coercive power to determine criteria of inclusion in and exclusion from their territory. Otherwise ethnic or cultural enclaves themselves can become sovereign political units, thereby threatening the integrity and order of the larger nation state with the worst-case scenario being the threats of secession and civil war. A policy of open borders then is not consistent with sovereignty of the nation state as a whole. Sovereignty then becomes the key political and ethical issue in determining the duty to accept immigrants, with duties to refugees and asylum-seekers viewed as subsets of the duty to needy strangers.

Walzer approaches the issue of the conflict between national sovereignty, which presupposed the right to cultural autonomy, and the duty to needy outsiders as a conflict between internal and external principles. A nation’s sovereignty entails the right to determine the ethical principles upon which claims of justice among citizens can be resolved. Walzer further describes these internal principles as relational, suggesting that they’re a function of the nation’s particular cultural norms. In contrast, the nation’s duties to needy outsiders are described as external principles, i.e. general ethical claims that are also generally referred to in the literature on the rights of refugees as basic rights of humanity. When external principles conflict with internal ones, cultural autonomy as a precondition of sovereignty is threatened. Furthermore, these internal principles themselves can become an object of degradation if they’re violated as a result of taking in outsiders and treating them unethically, e.g. through racism, discrimination, rights-violations, etc.

Sovereignty has been viewed as threatened by nations’ responding to the duty to protect asylum-seekers on two different fronts. First, if unlimited (i.e., open borders) the resulting ethnic enclaves formed by new and former residents who have formed autonomous communities can develop into sovereign entities unto themselves. The policy for determining which refugee groups and how many should be included therefore must be based on rational criteria of inclusion. Michael Dummett argues that such rational criteria can be determined by a group of national states voluntarily taking on the duty to provide asylum and who can assign an international commission to review applications and assign refugee groups to respective host countries by applying the agreed upon rational criteria. His suggestions include: available resources of the host country; existing family and cultural ties; languages spoken by the refugee group; cultural attitudes toward the refugee group in the potential host country. [12] Participating nations could set appropriate limits to the numbers of refugees they’re willing and able to accept, given issues of scarce resources and cultural integrity.

This proposal constitutes an enormous improvement over the current state of affairs with regard both to the legal status of the right to asylum, as well as the plight of asylum-seekers currently residing in refugee camps and detention centers. Currently the legal status of the right to asylum amounts only to the duty of non-refoulement, i.e. not to send back the asylum seeker to the home country where they face persecution, genocide, imprisonment, or grave rights- violations. Such a duty falls on the country upon whose shores or borders the asylum seeker has arrived. Given the distinction made between immigrants (e.g. economic immigrants) who can apply for immigrant status while residing in their home country and asylum seekers who can only apply for asylum once they’re arrived at the potential host country, asylum seekers without the funds or opportunities to travel to hospitable host countries are severely disadvantaged. For example, the U.S. Government under the Clinton and Bush presidencies offered an alternative to the processing of asylum applications on U.S. territory to Haitian and Cuban refugees by providing sites of review of applications on the military base in Guantanamo Bay, aboard ships, and in the Caribbean islands. Once an overwhelming number of refugees from Haiti were rumored to be arriving and applying for asylum, even these alternative arrangements were rescinded and boats were returned to Haiti. [13]

An international commission authorized by voluntarily participating countries to determine assignments based on agreed upon rational criteria would diminish the likelihood of asylum seekers languishing in detention centers without the option of consulting with attorneys who speak their language, or of arriving on the shores or borders of countries who hardly have the economic resources to provide sufficient food, water, medical care, psychological counseling and education for groups who could be camp residents for several years. [14] The decision for which groups are assigned to particular countries could be based on general, rational criteria rather than on proximity to the site of genocide or persecution or based on ideological criteria, such as the U.S. used during the Cold War, admitting asylum seekers from communist countries such as Cuba and Eastern European Bloc states. A further serious ethical concern has also been made apparent by the current legal requirement that asylum seekers be present in the territory of the host country to which they’re seeking asylum. One consequence of this requirement is the situation of hundreds of thousands of refugees living for years in dangerous unhealthy environments in refugee camps across the borders from their home countries.

Arthur Helton in The Price of Indifference [15] argues that there are extremely important political reasons for the international community as a whole to respond to the worldwide refugee crisis rationally and effectively. He describes them as the ultimate transitional figures, a destabilizing force depending on the political situation in the countries at which they seek asylum, in particular when they settle in dangerous refugee camps. Helton further claims that they’re often both the cause and the outcome of political instability; one example being the objective of Saddam Hussein’s expelling the Kurds, forcing them into Turkey where their presence further destabilized the Turkish government. Similarly, Milosevic sought to make refugees out of the ethnic Albanians residing in Kosovo, i.e. it wasn’t merely an outcome of his strategy of ethnic cleansing. The political refugee’s transitional status is further exacerbated by their having witnessed extremes of cruelty, degradation, violence to family members prior to their arrival in refugee camps, but where they often experience danger, violence, rape, abduction into child soldiering [16][17] Given their situation of being economically destitute and without possibilities of employment in the camps, they become easy prey for recruitment by militia, rebel or government military forces.

Not all refugee camps deprive refugees the opportunities and resources for retaining their cultural identifications and kinship ties. The Lakore camp housing Burundi refugees in northwest Tanzania have allowed for a certain modicum of political organizing, influence and power (e.g. the continuation of “big man” politics retained from African village life). Turner describes this camp as viewed by the Tanzanian government as an “exceptional space” with Tanzanian officials as having ultimate authority over issues of control over movement, jobs and assimilation, but which has a the same time afforded refugees opportunities to restore a semblance of family life by setting up an adoptive foster family system and other support networks. The UNHCR has also managed the camp in such a way as to promote empowerment among Burundi refugees by providing social services and support systems that enhance individual and community health and well-being, thereby better helping to prepare them for reintegration into normal community life.

Certainly there are other international responses that need to be institutionalized to ameliorate the 21st century refugee crisis, besides offering them temporary settlement in camps or in potentially long term assimilation into host countries’ citizen populations. These can include humanitarian intervention rather than evacuation, thereby obviating the need for asylum. Currently attempts at intervention in humanitarian crises such as mass terror (violence against one’s political enemies or opponents), civil war, genocide, or grave human rights violations haven’t been successful for a variety of reasons, including inadequate, inefficient, unorganized military and institutional responses from NGO’s. But given the long-term nature of state building and ending ethnic violence whose passions have been reinforced by decades of cycles of violence and retribution, the asylum option remains one of the most humane and promising in light of the urgency of the situation and prospects for these ‘ultimate transitional figures” who are the living testimony to the unstable, uncertain prospects for their nation or people’s future.

Derrida

Several implications for the right to asylum can be gleaned from Derrida’s deconstructive analysis of the right to hospitality [19] First he appeals to Kant’s view that the right to hospitality of travelers arriving at a foreign destination is a right of visitation, not a right to a permanent home. So, the duty of providing asylum when modeled on the right to hospitality would entail providing hospitable guest provisions, and could be viewed as an extension of the moral principle of reciprocity, although without the expectation that the favor or gift be reciprocated automatically by the guest. [20]

Although the duty of hospitality has historically been acknowledged as owed to travelers passing through one’s territory and therefore not an absolute or permanent claim on one’s resources, there is some value to making this analogy with the right to asylum in the contemporary context of refugees. The duty of hospitality can be extended to asylum seekers as a short term response to their situation of homelessness and statelessness. Such a duty is inconsistent with restraining asylum seekers for several months or longer in detention centers without opportunities for contact with attorneys who speak their language. One important dissimilarity between refugees fleeing genocide and our own national population of homeless is the trauma that many of them have experienced in fleeing and witnessing murder and other forms of violent and inhumane loss of life and limb or other forms of bodily security, home, family, and community. In addition, the sooner children and adolescents fleeing persecution or genocide can be given psychological counseling and emotional support, the better their prospects for integration into normal, functional community life. The duty of hospitality that’s owed to refugees although typically short term has urgency beyond alleviating the traveler’s discomfort. Once an individual refugee or family has been restored to a level of physical health and emotional equilibrium, they can decide whether they wish to return to their home country if stabilized, or to put roots down in their host country with a possible option of dual citizenship.

Derrida’s genealogical analysis of the right to asylum as originating in the ancient duty of hospitality is also a deconstructive analysis, revealing conceptual impasses in this ancient right that are analogous to contemporary aporias. The duty of hospitality has its conceptual grounding in the right to private property held by the master of the household who extends hospitality to needy travelers. But the extending of hospitality to a guest in his home ultimately turns him into a hostage to his guest’s needs, thereby compromising his unrestricted liberty to exclude others from the use of his property. Just as the value of the right to private property is diminished when on no longer is in a position to exercise control over its occupants, a case can be made for a similar set of problems besetting host countries who open their borders to desperate traumatized others.

Although the sovereignty of nation sates and the control over whom to include therein as a matter of fact can be threatened by the presence of cultural enclaves as discussed above, sovereignty as a matter of principle entails the authority to determine who are friends and who are enemies and under what conditions exceptions to immigration policies can be enforced. [21] Furthermore, as Nietzsche argued, just as mercy and compassion can be extended by governments who have maintained an enviable climate of law and order as an expression of their power, so can these virtues be institutionalized in the form of asylum rights. [22]

In addition, applying the moral resources of a virtue ethic of compassion can be viewed pragmatically as providing greater flexibility in the institutionalization of this right, i.e., in a manner consistent with a host country’s future resources and political commitments. Accepting a refugee population based on such an ethic can also enhance the possibility that a nation state will be forging its identity as based on a political persona which is not limited to self-interestedness in the face of tremendous suffering of others.

A second aporia that emerges from Derrida’s deconstructive approach is that of the essential nature of the demands of justice, given his view that achieving justice presents a person (or here a state) with an infinite responsibility, most obviously in the context of the face-to-face relationship. In addition, the modern conception of “rights” is ambiguous as to whether this concept refers to the moral ideals that ground legal rights, or whether it’s an acknowledgment of particular cultural norms which have already been institutionalized into legal requirements. A two-level analysis of the basis to resolving modern rights conflicts can provide some insight as to how this challenge may be answered. [23] First, an analysis of the seriousness and weight of the interests at stake would be provided, including a comparative analysis of the interests in conflict. The seriousness of those fleeing genocide can hardly be underestimated: the interests in not being killed, maimed, raped, abducted into child soldiering, witnessing any of one’s family members undergoing those traumas; not losing one’s family members due to extended periods of displacement; as well as the interest in keeping intact one’s home, ancestral lands and community. In addition to the weight of these interests which are routinely threatened by genocide, the second level of rights-analysis would ascertain the power differentials between the parties with conflicting rights claims, here sovereign states’ rights to sovereignty and cultural integrity and autonomy vs. the rights of those escaping genocide. Imminent victims of genocide are relatively powerless to do anything but flee on foot in comparison to the power of sovereign states to take appropriate measures to safeguard their cultural and political resources. Furthermore, Derrida’s insistence on justice as always “a venir” (to come) suggests why it cannot be achieved by the balancing of present interests; the demands of justice aren’t achieved by the bringing about of harmony and order. These claims may be contaminated by the legacy of historical power and wealth acquisitions resulting from colonialism, nationalism or imperialism and hardly qualify as components to be balanced or harmonized in order to achieve justice.

Thirdly, one of the conceptual tools that Derrida offers to confront the aporias besetting certain untenable polarities is that of positing a third term which then functions to mediate between the two opposing terms Such a term can be found in the idea of cosmopolitanism in its Kantian sense as world citizen. [24] Such an affiliation can ameliorate the apparently conflicting claims of national sovereignty with its emphases on borders and exclusion and that of stateless citizens as bereft of any national political associations whatsoever. Appealing to a cosmopolitan identity can serve to ameliorate the unproductive, backward-looking policies these approaches have produced, one of these policies being that of viewing the problem of immigration as one of foreignness and the sites of the solution being the emigrants themselves and the borders they’re attempting to cross.

In addition the universal human rights claimed by stateless citizens have been argued to have both diluted the conception of “citizens” as claimants on the resources of nation states [26] rather than providing an additional level of protection of the dignity of persons, irrespective of their residency. Arendt makes a similar point in her analysis of the perception of Stateless persons during the interim during the two world wars as being stripped of their residence in a nation and “reduced” to a universal state of personhood thereby stripping them of the cultural affiliations and norms that sustain social interaction. [27]

Cosmopolitanism would entail a positive affiliation with citizens of diverse cultures, informed by the interdependent of those linked by transnational policies, rather than a null set of moral norms and resources. Embracing world citizenship enhances the potential for more democratic resolutions of global economic and political problems to the extent that it can transform citizens from the status of passive recipient of transnational transactions to an active participant in determining global policy concerns. In addition, embracing a cosmopolitan conception of citizenship and thereby tapping into one’s imaginative resources in order to better comprehend the plight of refugees can work to expand the boundaries of the self, thereby diminishing the tendency of modern Western citizens to withdraw into the realm of narrow nuclear family socio-economic concerns and into individualistic pursuits of interest satisfaction. Honig points out how the paradigm of immigrants actively seeking their human rights can model a more participatory form of citizenship. [28] This could be contrasted with a contemporary interpretation of rights in the form of the citizen as client relationship to the state, as well as with a modern focus on the right to be left alone or to advance one’s narrowly construed financial and consumerist interests.

Finally, when democracy is viewed as a political system in which all members have an equal right to have their basic needs represented by the political and legal institutions, global citizenship and awareness can reveal commonalities between host country citizens and accepted asylum seekers with regard to the impact on both groups brought about by transnational policies. Unemployment, whether due to local plant closings or to civil wars; food scarcity based in local agricultural practices or in the production of export crops in poor foreign countries which often result in political conflicts and emigration; homelessness whether caused by inadequate social services or civil war are all deprivations of vital interests that may no longer be displaced onto the problem of “foreigners”. Such a broadening of the parameters of groups these problems to include the discussion of the experiences of both categories of citizens can refocus the “them” and “us” categories to refer to those who formulate transnational policies that promote or exacerbate the above-cited deprivation of basic needs.

Yet, although the presence of refugees can enhance the workings of democracy by providing a vehicle by which first-hand accounts of massive rights-violations are occurring elsewhere, thereby falsifying official reports minimizing or denying that genocide is taking place abroad, and in providing exemplars of active rights-takings in the difficult quest for asylum, certain factors can work toward diminishing democratic processes. Honig elucidates this problematic in her argument for the “undecidability” of foreignness and the foreigner. [29] Despite our recent history of the achievement of many civil rights for blacks and other minorities, the current xenophobia of foreigners as terrorists has worked to obfuscate the drastic though passive acquiescence of the American public and its representatives with regard to privacy rights in the government’s quest for information. Rather than viewing this rights-violation as a power grab and denial of accountability on the part of the government, it has been projected onto foreigners as the cause of our disabling with regard to rights-protection. Expressions of xenophilia have been focused on cultural products available to the many in a multicultural society, rather than in light of the potential for building more democratic institutions in the form of public fora for holding the government accountable for diminishing civil rights. For those native citizens already alienated by the rapid transformations occurring in contemporary forms of social interaction (Internet, commercialization of the private sphere, proximity with foreign language speakers), an increasingly multicultural milieu has been shown to increase the isolation of such individuals. Greater involvement in local neighborhood activities and democratic grassroots organizations which include the refugee populations could ameliorate such alienation and isolation.

Another area of discussion that Derrida offers that’s illuminating with regard to refugee settlements in host countries is his discussion of cosmopolitanism, in particular, with reference to cosmopolitan cities, such as ancient Alexandria. [31] Derrida points out that as a result of Christian Pauline thought on the issue of cosmopolitanism, it has become interpreted as citizenship in a world community. Such cities functioned in ancient epochs as sites of residence that occupied a different political status than other political entities, i.e. provinces, villages, or nation states; they found themselves in a unique position of being relatively autonomous from the jurisdiction of the empires or larger territories in which they were located and affiliated with. Valued as centers of trade and cultural diversity, their flourishing in cultural and economic terms was tied to their diverse resources rather than to the economic and political benefits made possible by their being part of a cohesive, well-ordered nation. Taking heed from such a political model for cosmopolitan cities of refuge, Derrida’s discussion suggests some interesting solutions to the issue of possible locations’ and resources for asylum seekers.

Many urban areas in the U.S. are witnessing a steady decline in urban populations as a result of corporate outsourcing and other economic results of globalization, including vast shifts in employment opportunities and remuneration, a decline in the quality of inner city neighborhoods, setbacks in the quality of urban education, etc. Utilizing these areas as sites of urban renewal on the model of cosmopolitan cities can provide an economic boost to cities who seems to have run out of options with respect to urban shifts of population to suburban neighborhoods. Neighborhoods could be revitalized as ethnic populations create districts with restaurants, services, markets, and other other cultural opportunities essential for rebuilding their lives in a new community. Derrida’s appeal to Kant’s description of these cities as possible sites of reflection, as well as his own view that they could offer opportunities for progress, creativity and transformation suggests several interesting possibilities for urban revitalization. First, it would provide an opportunity for residents of the host country to become more informed about the richness and vitality of the refugee groups’ culture. Secondly, it can provide people of African ancestry to get the opportunity to explore the artistic, spiritual and other cultural resources of African refugees. Urban leaders and activists of African ancestry could utilize these groups in their efforts to develop an African cultural consciousness in youth in inner cities as a basis for developing their self-esteem (e.g. African drumming, dancing, story-telling). Thirdly, approaching the issue of ethnic communities in cities of refuge as a cultural resource, rather approaching the issue strictly in economic costs and benefits can broaden the parameters of political debate in host countries about immigration, which has been primarily couched in rigid polarized categories of conflicting rights (resident citizens vs necessitous strangers). A shift in the debate from one oriented towards issues of sovereignty, cultural economy, and limited economic resources to one broadened to include cultural understandings can involve a broader range of participants in the debate: artists, teachers, youth groups, activist, urban planners, neighborhood organizers, schools, etc.

Despite the apparent cultural benefits to be derived from hosting ethnic groups in cities of refuge, issues of cultural autonomy and integrity have been posed with regard to the American Ethic of unity through assimilation. Two responses are possible, given these concerns. One is offered by Danielle Allen in her book Talking To Strangers, Anxieties of Citizenship Since Brown vs. Board of Education, in which she makes a distinction between the political ideal of unity in contrast to that of wholeness. [32] Allen distinguishes between the metaphor of “oneness” which she regards as only one way to direct citizenly practices and customs toward the sovereign state’s ideals of integrity and community. And as such, the myth of oneness or unity in the United States has given rise to an interpretation of national integrity based on homogeneity. Her analysis of the tragedy of Little Rock, Arkansas, documents a violent confrontation between black and white citizens vehemently blocking the entrance into the public school of black students who were following a federal order to integrate the Little Rock schools Her account of the level of violence, anger and subsequent separation that resulted from the confrontation illustrates the political practices and issues that arise when a model of oneness is the dominant interpretation of national wholeness or integrity. She concludes with reference to the violence of the confrontation, “most important, the citizenship of oneness consisted not so much, as we tend to think, of exclusion as of (racial) domination and acquiescence.” [33] Concerns about the threat ethnic enclaves pose to national sovereignty can be ameliorated when the reference point if shifted from the ideal of oneness as homogeneity to that of an ideal of wholeness, which is consistent with a wide variety of components contributing their distinctive cultures to the whole.

Secondly, an important distinction needs to be made between two different conceptions of cultural autonomy: one as independence from the coercive or manipulative pressures that can be placed on cultural groups when being overtaken by the ubiquity and dominance of a larger, or more influential cultural group. A second conception of cultural autonomy is predicated on a definition of individual autonomy, as a capacity for critical reflection and evaluation of one’s desires and motivations and possibly a transformation of these as a response to such critical evaluation. This second conception of autonomy is enhanced, rather than diminished or threatened, by being exposed to alternative value systems or cultural forms of life.

Conclusions

One can conclude from the above discussion that although the right to asylum of those fleeing genocide has been argued for as an absolute (negative) right not to be killed, and as such, as posing an unconditional duty on the international community as a whole, the current situation of millions of displaced political refugees seeking asylum can be responded to as a positive right to be restored to their capacities for community life. Their experience of those fleeing genocide qualifies them to be placed in a different category from other necessitous strangers, economic migrants or travelers. Potential host countries can voluntarily assign an international commission to determine which various groups are best matched to potential host countries based on a set of criteria determined by the international group as a whole. Viewing the negative duty as absolute and the positive one as conditional on voluntary participation and the application of rational criteria can help reduce the tension between the right viewed as comprised of contradictory duties (i.e. conditional and unconditional)

Secondly, appealing to ethical concepts framed in the language of virtue when approaching the positive right to asylum can break the standoff many developed countries find themselves dealing with when the debate is couched in terms of incompatible rights. Tying this discussion to Arendt’s concerns with asylum seeker’s lack of the powers of initiative taking, the positive right to

asylum can be interpreted as a duty to provide the opportunities and resources needed for utilizing their capacity for initiative taking with regard to their group’s fate. Although it was Arendt’s intention to argue for the right to have rights as an essentially political right, it’s clear that the value of such a right awarded to citizens presupposes meaningful contact and support from one’s family and friendship networks. Providing “exceptional spaces” for restoring their hope and Furthermore, this solution seems additionally valuable in an era in which globalization has been interpreted by developing countries primarily in terms of economic activities occurring in spaces accessible to the public through the mediation of telecommunication, mass media or financial reports. Cities of refuge would provide opportunities for developing new insights and creative solutions to problems globalization has yet to bring about by involving different combinations of citizens in “exceptional spaces.”

Finally, the second generation of political refugees who have obtained asylum can function as “chameleon intermediaries” with the capacity for interpreting the differences between their own native culture and the culture in which they find themselves in a uniquely valuable manner. On one hand, they can seize the opportunity to move more smoothly between the culture of their relatives and the host country’s own diverse cultural legacy by offering interpretations of each, gained from the perspective of those occupying two worlds. [34] Offering their authentic perspective of chameleon interpreters could be invaluable in promoting the rich cultural resources of their families while at the same time diminishing the alienation that often occurs when an immigrant or refugee perceives his options as assimilation or isolation.

Footnotes

[1] Hannah Arendt, “The Perplexities of the Rights of Man”, The Origins of Totalitarianism,, Harcourt Brace, 3rd edition, 1966.

[2] Arthur C. Helton, The Price of Indifference: Refugees and Humanitarian Action in the New Century, Oxford University Press, 2002.

[3]The UN Protocol Relating to the Status of Refugees requires states to offer refuge to persons who “owing to well-founded fear of being persecuted for reasons of race, religion, nationality, membership of a particular social group or opinion, is outside the country of his nationality and is unable, or owing to such fear, is unwilling, to avail ohimself f the protection of that country”, from Phillip Cole, Philosophies of Exclusion, Liberal Political Theory and Immigration, University of Edinburgh Press, 2000.

[4] Helen Fein defines genocide as a sustained attack perpetrated against a definable group – ethnic, religious, political, racial – with a sustained purposeful design on killing the members of a group because they’re members of that group and requires further that they’re defenseless and will continue to be killed regardless of whether or not they surrender. She also argues that the killing doesn’t end when the larger war is over. “Genocide, Terror, Life, Integrity and War Crimes: The Case for Discrimination” from Genocide: Conceptual and Historical Dimensions, , Geroge J. Andreopoulos, ed. University of Pennsylvania Press, 1994.

[5] Helton, op.cit.

[6] Simon Turner, “Suspended Spaces – Contesting Sovereignties in a Refugee Camp”, from Thomas Blom Hansen and Finn Stepputat, eds., Sovereign Bodies: Citizens, Migrants and States in the Postcolonial World, Princeton University, Princeton, 2005.

[7]Hannah Arendt, “We Refugees” from Feldman, The Jew as Pariah: Jewish Identity and Politics in the Modern Age, Grove Press, N.Y. 1978

[8] Arendt, The Origins of Totalitarianism, op. cit.

[9]Lost Boys of Sudan, Point of View Video Production, Actual Films and Principe Production in association with American Documentary, Inc. and ITUS, 2003.

[10] Arendt, op.cit.

[11]Michael Walzer, Spheres of Justice, Basic Books, 1983.

[12]Michael Dummett, On Immigration and Reform, Routledge, 2000.

[13] Helton, op.cit.

[14] Dummett, op. cit.

[15]Helton, op. cit.

[16]“Darfur Refugees Forced to Join the Fight”, Christian Science Monitor, April 28, 2006. The article documents children being abducted from refugee camps in eastern Chad and forced to fight with both Chadian and Sudanese rebel groups operating in the area. “Although the exact number is unknown , the UNHCR estimates that around 4,700 (adult and children) refugees in Chadian camps were abducted last month (March 2006).” P. 6.

[17]Helton, op.cit.

[18]Ben Kiernan, “The Cambodian Genocide: Issues and Responses” from Andreopolous,op.cit.

[19]A deconstructive analysis will be interpreted here as one which focuses on the conceptual impasses arrived at when a concept is broken down to reveal an untenable set of polar terms.

[20]Jacques Derrida and Anne Dufourmantelle, Of Hospitality: Cultural Memory in the Present, trans. Rachel Dowlby, Stanford University Press, Stanford, 2000.

[21] Carl Schmitt, The Concept of the Political , University of Chicago Press, 1996.

[22] Friedrich Nietzsche, The Genealogy of Morals, trans. F. Golffing, N.Y . Doubleday,1956

[23] Michaeleen Kelly, “Rights and Power, A Feminist Re-thinking of Liberal Rights”, Journal of Social Philosophy, Fall, 1994.

[24] Jacques Derrida, On Cosmopolitanism and Forgiveness, Thinking in Action,Routledge Press, NY 2001.

[25]foreigners with a resulting “we” vs. “them” resolution, thereby eliminating serious analyses of the global conditions and national policies contributing to emigration.

[26] Pheng Cheah, Inhuman Conditions: On Cosmopolitanism and Human Rights, Harvard University Press, Harvard, 2006.

[27] Arendt, op. cit.

[28] Arendt, op. cit. Honig, op.cit.

[29] Honig, op.cit.

[30] Honig, op. cit.

[31] Derrida, op.cit.

[32] Danielle Allen, Talking to Strangers, Anxieties of Citizenship Since Brown vs. Board of Education, University of Chicago Press, Chicago, 2004.

[33] Allen, op. cit

[34] An interview in October, 2009 with the Roeun family of Elkhart, Indiana revealed the importance of providing second generation children of political refugees who had fled from Cambodia during the Pol Pot genocide with opportunities for occupying such dual roles. One daughter described her high school education in both San Francisco and in Mishawaka, Indiana as invaluable as a result of teachers who provided in San Francisco a Cambodian club for providing Cambodian students with opportunities to share with one another stories of their culture, and in Mishawaka, Indiana an ethnic culture club which played a similar role for immigrants and refugees. The areas of Goshen and Elkhart, Indiana provide numerous occasions for celebrating the Cambodian culture in the form of yearly holidays (Cambodian New Year celebrated at the same time as Chinese New Year) as well as providing markets for the purchasing of essential ingredients for making Cambodian food. These educational and cultural opportunities are extremely important for the well-being of the Cambodian people living in the U.S. Cambodian refugees are believed to be the least well-equipped of all refugees in the U.S. with respect to transferring the economic, educational and material resources of their culture. This is due to the Khmer Rouge killing so many of the Cambodian intellectual and upper economic classes. This may also contribute to the fact that although it’s been on average “more than 2 decades (that have) elapsed since arriving in the United States, our sample revealed high rates of past-year (2004) PTSD (62%) and depression. (51%)” “Mental Health of Cambodian Refugees 2 decades After Resettlement in the United States”, Grant Marshall, Terry Schell, Marc Elliott, S. Megan Berthold, Chi-Ah Chun, JAMA, 2005.

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