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Women in peacemaking: a legacy of Nelson Mandela

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by Dr. Georgina Holmes

Mandela_Bust_at_Southbank

Nelson Mandela’s philosophy towards conflict resolution has had a profound impact on international peacemaking processes, but it was his policy of inclusion that opened doors for women.

Six months after the end of his presidential term in December 1999, Mandela was appointed as the new mediator in Burundi’s faltering peace process. Mandela’s predecessor, Mwalimu Julius Nyerere, had succeeded in extending the Arusha Talks to all recognised political parties that had participated in the 1993 elections, but the approach he adopted followed the standard strategy used by the UN, which saw other elements of Burundian society excluded. Within a week of his appointment, Mandela cautioned that the exclusion of any groups with the potential to create instability in Burundi would be detrimental to achieving long-term peace. His team brought together 19 separate Burundian organisations, although some armed rebel factions still refused to participate.

Later, Mandela expressed frustration at the lack of flexible leadership among the negotiating parties, counselling that ‘there are good men and women in all communities’ and that the ‘art of leadership is to compromise with your adversary not your friends’.[1] Building trust, understanding each other’s cultures and breaking down dehumanising stereotypes were prerequisites to uniting leaders and their peoples. Finding a shared understanding was to be the focus for Burundian negotiators, and Mandela was critical of their ‘manoeuvring to discredit or weaken’ rivals.[2] Mandela’s attitudes towards resolving conflict through peaceful means drew on his experiences of negotiating with his oppressors in apartheid South Africa and then, as President, successfully transitioning a volatile country into a peaceful democracy. In Burundi, he proved to be a deft mediator, using discipline and encouragement to bring Burundians closer to reaching consensus and rejecting his predecessor’s use of threats and intimidation. He was able to turn to his advantage the acclaim he received as a great statesman, raising international awareness of the Burundian crisis, while commanding respect from Burundians as a freedom fighter against apartheid rule.    

As a mediator, Mandela saw the importance of the many political processes under way in Burundi and speculated that ‘if harnessed and directed at constructive routes’, these processes ‘could form the basis for lasting political settlement’. [3] Building on these dynamics was deemed particularly vital if peace was to be sustained in states where conflicts were primarily based on identity politics, or the politics of inclusion and exclusion, and where civilians bore the brunt of suffering. It is here that women gained their entry point into the peacemaking process. Burundian women had worked for many years implementing local peace initiatives but had consistently been excluded from the formal peace process at the national level. By making the peace negotiations a more public affair, Mandela called on civil society groups and women’s groups to input into the design of the Arusha Peace and Reconciliation Agreement, which was eventually signed on 28 August 2000.

Working with the United Nations Development Fund for Women (UNIFEM) and the Mwalimu Nyerere Foundation, Mandela supported an All-Party Burundi women’s peace conference on 17-20 July 2000 in Arusha, Tanzania. Over 50 Burundian women representatives from the 19 Burundian organisations involved in the peace negotiations attended and together put forward several gender specific demands. Among these were the inclusion of a women’s charter in the constitution, measures to ensure women’s security, women’s rights to land, inheritance and education, and an end to impunity for both gender based war crimes and domestic violence. These recommendations were presented by Mandela to the 19 organisations, who accepted all of the women’s recommendations – although their request to have a 30 per cent quota for women at all political decision making levels did not feature in the final peace agreement, and only later would women achieve a stronger political voice in Burundi.[4]

Leading by example

Mandela’s efforts to engage Burundian women could not have been better timed.  Women’s transnational mobilisation to reform international law and institutions had led to the ratification of the landmark UN Security Council Resolution 1325 – on Women, Peace and Security in 31 October 2000. The work of Mandela and his partners provided a practical example of how women could be brought into peacemaking processes at all levels, and as a result Resolution 1325 acquired greater legitimacy internationally. As former Executive Director of the United Nations Development Fund for Women (UNIFEM), now UN Executive Secretary for the UN Economic and Social Commission for Asia and the Pacific, Dr. Noeleen Heyzer observed in July 2013, Mandela ‘was one of the first world leaders to truly grasp the importance of the adoption of Resolution 1325…it was he who helped us breathe life into its implementation’.[5]

More than a decade on from the Burundian crisis, actual numbers of women in formal peace negotiations around the world are still pitifully low. Women constitute around two per cent of negotiating teams, although informal ‘Track II’ conflict resolution mechanisms allow women to push for peace accords that address gender-specific priority issues such as physical security and human rights. There is concern that Resolution 1325 and its associated resolutions are not being implemented effectively. The unanimous adoption by UNSC of Resolution 2122 on Friday 18 October 2013, which calls for a more systematic approach to the implementation of commitments on women, peace and security is another welcomed step towards establishing a framework that supports gender parity. Yet, in reviewing Mandela’s legacy, it seems that women’s genuine integration into peace processes can only be achieved through incisive and visionary leadership and a sustained commitment to long-term social transformation.

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Dr Georgina Holmes co-chairs the Africa Research Group in Department of War Studies, King’s College London and is the author of Women and War in Rwanda (2013), published by I.B Tauris.

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NOTES

[1] Nelson Mandela, 2010, Conversations to Myself,  Basingstoke: Macmillan
[2] Nelson Mandela, 2010, Conversations to Myself,  Basingstoke: Macmillan
[3] ‘Nelson Mandela, 2003, ‘Address by Nelson Mandela to people of Burundi’, http://www.mandela.gov.za/mandela_speeches/2003/0304_burundi.htm, accessed 11 December 2013
[4] UNIFEM, 2009, p6
[5] Noeleen Heyzer, 2013, ‘Taking Action & Inspiring Change on Nelson Mandela International Day’, http://www.unescap.org/speeches/taking-action-inspiring-change-nelson-mandela-international-day, accessed 11 December 2013

From the Gezi Parki protests to the Democratisation Package

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by Gonenc Uysal

Protestsers vs. police forces. Istnbul. Events of June 15, 2013.
Protesters vs. police forces, Istanbul, 15 June 2013
(photo by Mstyslav Chernov)

It has been just over six months since the start of Gezi Parki protests on 30th May. Amnesty International constantly reported widespread and systematic abusive force and called on police to desist. Amnesty also published a report on the Gezi Parki protests which documented the casualties and the most serious injuries:

In Ankara, Ethem Sarisuluk was shot in the head by a police officer on 1 June and died of his injuries on 14 June. A police officer was indicted on the least serious charges possible – causing death by exceeding the limits of legitimate defence without intent. As the trial continues, Sarisuluk’s family and potential witnesses are still being harassed. In Eskisehir, Ali Ismail Korkmaz was severely beaten and died of his injuries on 10 July. CCTV evidence of the beating was destroyed but four police officers and four civilians are due to stand trial for causing his death. In Hatay, witnesses reported that Abdullah Comert was hit in the head by a tear gas canister fired at close range by a police officer on 3 June and died of his injuries on the following day. Other injuries and human rights violations included plastic bullets aimed at heads and upper bodies, sexual assault and beating, using chemical irritants in the water cannon supply tanks, and the use of live ammunition.  In Adana, Mustafa Sari, a police officer, fell down while he was interfering in protests and died. The AKP circles stated that he was pushed by protestors but this accusation was denied by Sari’s family circles. According to Turk Tabipleri Birligi (Turkish Medical Association), 7,832 people in total were injured.

The protests seemed to fade away as summer passed; then widely staged protests resumed in Turkey in early September. Due to spatial constraints, prolongations of Gezi Park protests cannot be detailed. However, for further information, it is important to look at some protests such as ODTU (METU) student protests, Hatay protests and protests against HES project in the Black Sea region. Demonstrations during the trials for those who died during the Gezi Parki protests such as Sarisuluk davasi, or against the decisions of Ergenekon trials, Alevis’ protests and the Yatagan workers’ protests, are also telling.

But what has changed since Gezi Parki?

On 30 September, the ruling Justice and Development Party (AKP) introduced a ‘democratisation package’ which addressed the following issues:

  • Article 42 of the Constitution that accepts Turkish as the mother tongue, however, which allows teaching of different languages under other laws. The liberation of the teaching of native languages (including Kurdish) would be regulated with Law No 5580 which would allow teaching of Kurdish language in private schools.
  • The abolition of the Turkish Penalty Law Article 222, which punished the usage of the letters W, Q, X with from 2 to 6 months of imprisonment. These letters are used for Kurdish alphabet -and are not used in the Turkish alphabet.
  • Veiling which was prohibited with the public mandate published in 1982 would be allowed in the public sphere except in the military, police and judiciary
  • The Mor Gabriel Church would be granted the status and returned to Assyrian community. However, there is no further regulation about the return of properties that were transferred to third persons
  • Three alternatives to the electoral threshold were proposed: Firstly, the single member district which divides Turkey into 550 electoral regions will cancel this threshold; secondly, the re-drawing of the constituency which will be represented with three to five MPs; and finally, maintaining the present d’hondt method system with a 10% barrier
  • Treasury aid for parties that exceed 3% barrier
  • Return of names of towns which aim at to change Tunceli with Dersim, Aydinlar with Tillo and Guroymak with Norsin
  • Crimes of hatred and discriminatory laws are regulated
  • Introduction of cultural institute and language courses for Roman Communities
  • Protection of private life and lifestyle
  • Allowance of political propaganda in different languages
  • Regulations on the right to assemble and protest
  • Abolition of the Turkish school oath
  • Nevsehir University will be renamed as Haci Bektas Veli University whose name is very significant for Alevis. However, Deputy Prime Minister Bekir Bozdag is working on Alevis demands and needs, and it is foreseen that this work will be put on the agenda later.

Prime Minister Erdogan stated that the package represented the democratic level that Turkey has now reached. He underlined that ‘the state no longer imposed any identity or interfered with ethnicity, faith and thoughts, but the state now was determined to keep humans alive to keep the state alive’. He also added that ‘the government did not exert authority in the public sphere that turned the public spaces into hell against citizens who did not act according the government’s definition of correctness’. Deputy PM Bulent Arinc stated that polls showed ‘75% of the population found the package satisfactory’. Arinc also underlined that this was ‘a continuing process’ and the AKP could do more in the future.

It should be noted that the package includes positive democratic reforms. However, especially in social media, Gezi Parki protesters demonstrated their dissatisfaction. This package did not satisfy some sectors of Kurdish population since the BDP stated that ‘the package did not respond to the abolition of electoral barrier’, or the ‘right of equal representation and local parliaments that would secure autonomy’. Moreover, the package amends the regulations on freedom of assembly to extend the protests for an extra hour if permission for the protest is granted in the first place. Additionally, the issue of the Special Authority Courts, that arguably had common features with the State Security Courts that were abolished in 2004, was not addressed. Similarly, long detention periods and no amnesty to political prisoners including political activists, journalists and MPs who were involved in the Gezi Parki, protests were ignored. Concerns about the Turkish Penal Code, the Anti-Terror Law or the Law on Police Duties and Powers were also not responded to. Moreover, it is not clear how hate speech will be regulated: the amendment must not become a legal platform to punish criticisms which will greatly impede on freedom of speech. The most controversial example would be Fazil Say, the high-profile Turkish pianist’s trial over his social media messages about Islam. On the other hand, there was also no mention of hate speech and crimes against the LBGT community members.

Although the minority religious group Alevis’ concerns were stated to be addressed in the future, the package did indeed say nothing about Alevi community’s rights and freedoms such as spaces of prayer (Cemevi), rejection of the emphasis of the Directorate of Religious Affairs (Diyanet Isleri Baskanligi) on Sunni Islam, and so forth. The government undertook the construction of a joint Mosque-Space of prayer (Cami-Cemevi) centre to represent their close ties. However, this was rejected by large sections of the Alevis population on the basis on the state’s hidden agenda to supervise the Alevi community. At the same time, the government launched a project to abolish Alevi foundations and establish Izzettin Dogan’s  Cem Vakfi as the only Alevi foundation. It should be noted that Dogan was also the member of the committee appointed by the government to visit regions of Turkey and note demands of civil-society organisations to create the democracy package. However some members of the same committee later accused the government on the basis that they were ‘used’ and ‘the package did not represent the larger segments of society’.

Currently, the Turkish political arena has been staging a debate about Erdogan’s statements on ‘university student girls and boys staying together’ (sharing a flat –mixed-sex student houses). Erdogan stated that ‘this is contrary to our conservative structure’ and also added that ‘he gave directive to governors, they would do what is required for regulation’. The next day, the Governor of Adana declared that Erdogan’s speech was indeed understood as a directive and they would do what is required. The CHP underlined the fundamental rights and freedoms of students and asked that the content of the directive, content of regulation, control over students who are already over the age of 18, problems about meetings of girls and boys, and particularly the content of ‘conservative democratic structure’ be clarified.

The biggest question remains: What is the AKP’s understanding of democracy? On one hand, the government prepares a democratic package that would secure rights and freedoms in the public sphere, on the other, the government interferes and re-draws society’s private life by mistreating them on the axis of morality.

The AKP’s interpretations are indeed hidden in its discourse of ‘conservative democracy’ which represents the AKP’s hegemonic ideology with Islamist references. When the founding members of the AKP, namely Abdullah Gul, Recep Tayyip Erdogan and Bulent Arinc established the Party, they stated that they changed the ‘shirt’ of National View Movement (Milli Gorus) which had an arguably clearer Islamist agenda. Therefore, they formulated ‘conservative democracy’ where their religion does not impede on their politicking. Indeed, AKP always followed the secular separation of religion from the state affairs to achieve their economic policies.

However, while separating state and religion, Turkish secularism places religion under the state’s control. This enables the AKP to re-shape the boundaries of the public and private sphere. Although amendments such as the lift on headscarves are indeed democratic reforms, the AKP has long been using the discourse of ‘our veiled sisters’ to create a binary opposition between ‘us’ versus ‘them’. The AKP’s infringements upon the private life-styles are simply an extension of creating appropriate citizens. Regarding the material gains, the democracy package guides the local elections by representing the AKP as a democracy-builder. The 50% of votes that the AKP received in the 2011 elections urged Prime Minister Erdogan to construct the electoral game on the image of 50% AKP-voters versus 50% other. He understood the Gezi Parki protests as a threat to his authoritative image instead of an opportunity for a further democratisation. Therefore, Erdogan’s speeches deepen the polarisation in society and aim to guarantee ‘conservative’ votes.

In democracies, legislation remains a symbolic act. Having sometimes associated itself with the Ottoman tradition, the AKP should have learnt better from the controversial consequences of the Tanzimat (Gulhane Rescript of 1839) era and its idea of top-down reform through legislation including predominantly through the Constitution. On the contrary, consolidation of democracy can be secured through internalising its underlying ethos.

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Gonenc Uysal is a PhD researcher in the Department of War Studies, King’s College London, where she focuses on discourses of the interaction of secularism and Islamism and how these interact with civil-military relations in Turkey.

Poland’s troubled Independence Day – a stumbling block to democratisation?

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by Mateusz Zatoński

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Narodowe_%C5%9Awi%C4%99to_Niepodleg%C5%82o%C5%9Bci_2012_01.JPG
Polish Independence Day celebrations
(photo by Patryk Matyjaszczyk)

 

Each nation celebrates key dates in history its own way. On the Fourth of July, Americans gather at hot-dog eating contests and firework displays. Britain’s Remembrance Day is a more solemn affair, with the omnipresent poppy, and parades of war veterans applauded by crowds of tourists. Other countries opt for body paint, historical re-enactments, and countless other ways of celebrating national unity and pride.

Meanwhile, the Poles seem to have developed a habit of celebrating November 11th, their Independence Day, with a free-for-all rampage on the streets of Warsaw. Over the last three years images of burned cars, riot police in full gear, and pervasive neo-fascist symbols dominate the media coverage of the proceedings. This article lays out the history of the commemorations of the Polish Independence Day, and suggests a number of explanations for why in the last years they have become increasingly appropriated by the radical right.

The Polish Independence Day commemorates the re-establishment of independent Poland in 1918, after 123 years of oppressive rule by Prussia, Russia and Austria-Hungary. For 50 years following World War II, honouring Polish Independence Day was forbidden by the Polish governments steered from Moscow. Communist authorities saw the anniversary as a nationalist legacy that Marxism sought to supersede. After the collapse of the Communist regime in 1989 the Independence Day was restored as a national holiday. However, the state’s commemorations were often poorly organised and widely viewed as support rallies for whichever political party was in power at the time. The Polish nationalists, for decades denied an opportunity to celebrate their ideology, were not satisfied with what the successive governments offered.

And then came the Independence March.

The March first attracted public attention in 2008. Organised by the National Radical Camp (ONR), an organisation openly invoking the heritage of a pre-WWII anti-Semitic political organisation, it attracted a few hundred people who did not attempt to hide their extreme views, and a similar number who came to oppose them. Most mainstream media were quick to condemn the marchers, but treated the event as a minor episode, a desperate attempt of the dying breed of Polish right-wing extremists to draw the public’s attention.

The journalists were wrong. In the next years it became clear that the Independence March has become a fixed part of the political calendar of the country. The numbers of nationalists from around Poland rallying for the March increased every year, from hundreds to tens of thousands. The small-scale brawls characterising the first editions of the March turned into skirmishes involving hundreds of people. In 2011, the nationalists were opposed by an ad hoc collective of left-wing organisations who attempted to block the marchers. The tally of the day was nearly 70 injured, 210 arrests, burning cars, and a devastated historic square in the city centre . In 2012, in a gesture of supra-national solidarity not normally characteristic to those fiercely anti-EU groups, the marchers were joined by nationalists from Hungary, Italy, Serbia, and Ukraine. The outnumbered left-wingers avoided confrontation and this time it was the policemen securing the march who bore the brunt of the violence.

This year the police decided to step back as well, leaving the organisers to field their own security personnel. This did not prevent violent outbreaks. First, several hundred hooligans engaged in a pitched battle with the residents of a squat located nearby to the route of the demonstration. Later, a giant rainbow-coloured flower display in the centre of Warsaw, accused by right-wing politicians of promoting homosexuality, was burnt down. Finally, some of the marchers launched flares at the Russian embassy, attempted to climb its fence, and burnt a guard booth outside its gates. This promptly sparked a brief diplomatic crisis with Russia, and culminated a few days later when Russian nationalists reciprocated and launched flares against the Polish embassy in Moscow.

What surprises Western commentators is that those recurring, blatant manifestations of radicalism are occurring in a country that is widely viewed as one of Europe’s success stories. Poland weathered the economic crisis better than most EU member-states. Euro-enthusiasm still remains the norm rather than the exception among Poles. Most importantly, the country enjoys a stable government and a Parliament that, while significantly slanted to the right, has been free of extremist and populist political parties since the 2007 election. Where do the Marches fit in this picture?

First, while the sea of right-wing symbolism makes for spectacular TV coverage, it is important to understand that in societal terms the March is little more than a side-effect of the democratisation process of a post-Communist state. The March provides a once-a-year opportunity for fringe nationalist youth leaders and politicians whose star has faded to show their faces in the media. One characteristic that unites the March’s organisers, a motley crew ranging from monarchists, through republicans, to neo-fascists, is that they have been unable to obtain any meaningful electoral results in any of the country’s recent elections. The movements they lead have a minuscule membership base, but their highly ideological and organised nature allowed them to be noticed by the media.

The stellar rise of the March could be seen as a political miscalculation of the Polish conservative opposition, the Law and Justice (PiS) party. After the lost elections in 2007 PiS attempted to hijack the March from the extremists and turn it into a vehicle of protest against the ruling liberals of the Civic Platform (PO). The conservative press chose to overlook the radical legacy of its organisers and praised the March as a beacon of healthy patriotism in an increasingly post-ideological world. This was above all an attempt to spite the mainstream liberal media outlets that condemned the March. It quickly became clear that the radicals do not want anything in common with PiS, who they saw as part of the system they were trying to dismantle. Nonetheless, the damage was done. The March became associated with PiS and, even though the party was never involved in its organisation, the subsequent events were bloated by its supporters. Thousands of conservative families with children, often blissfully unaware of the extremist nature of the March’s organisers, helped build its legitimacy. Despite the attempt of PiS leadership to distance themselves from the March after the violent incidents, much of the conservative grassroots has already become emotionally bound to the initiative. Every year they accuse the media of overstating the levels of violence that accompany the March and blame the government for employing the police forces in a way that provokes incidents.

While the participation of conservative families provides a social license for the initiative, and the radical right constitute its brains, the core of the participants is comprised of football hooligans from across Poland. These are simply ‘adventure-seekers’ for whom the March provides the group anonymity needed to cause trouble with impunity. With its football chants and club banners the March could be confused with a rowdy crowd heading for a game. The hooligans have a bone to pick with the ruling Civic Platform who in the run-up to last year’s European Football Championship co-organised by Poland cracked down on organised hooligan groups and introduced a series of security restrictions on football fans. While undoubtedly xenophobic and anti-systemic, there is little evidence that this group could be attributed with a conscious understanding of, not to mention an engagement with, the complex, and often contradictory extremist ideologies of the political movements organising the March.

Many other variables helped facilitate the growth of tension accompanying the March. One is the proliferation of conspiracy theories and intensification of Russo-phobia after the crash of the Polish Presidential airplane in Russia in 2010. Another is the cultural liberalisation that followed Poland’s EU accession in 2004. In traditionally Catholic Poland large groups are vehemently opposing any change that could bring about same-sex marriage, or the marginalisation of the Church, polarising society over those issues. Finally, the growing gap between the country’s wealthy and poor is also of growing concern, especially that it is occurring in a post-Communist country in which modern capitalism is a brand-new phenomenon.

The lack of viable solutions to the annual bouts of violence in the Polish capital lies in the political tensions between the country’s two dominating parties, the Civic Platform and PiS. Both sides of the conflict blame each other for inciting the aggression, while at the same time distancing themselves from the acts of violence, leaving no one to answer (or pay) for the riots. The Polish political elite effectively leaves the country without answers for why this phenomenon is recurring every year, and how to avoid a similar scenario playing out again in the future. As the events in neighbouring Ukraine have so poignantly demonstrated, such by-products of party politics are a small price to pay for Poland’s successful democratisation and integration with Europe.

 

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Mateusz Zatoński is a postgraduate student of Public Health at the London School of Hygiene and Tropical Medicine, and a Research Assistant in Polish History at King’s College London. His interests range from ethn0-nationalism in the inter-war period, to health policy in modern Europe. He is currently researching the role of Communist regimes in covering up evidence of tobacco harm in Eastern Europe.

Film Review: Dirty Wars

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by Zoha Waseem

Dirty Wars (Strife)

The Guardian described it as one of the most important political films in two decades, while The Independent called it the most effective film since All the President’s Men. Jeremy Scahill’s script for Dirty Wars, based on his book Dirty Wars: The World is a Battlefield, peels apart layers of secrecy and unaccountability shrouded under cloaks of expensive national security measures in order to expose America’s covert operations and the increasingly notorious Joint Special Operations Command (JSOC). The film depicts how the US directs conflicts around the world in a war that seemingly ‘has no end’. Dirty Wars is not an easy watch, and it leaves you more than a little uncomfortable.

The film opens in Kabul, Afghanistan, narrated by Scahill, an investigative reporter and author of the book of the same name. It takes the viewers through warm hues and sepia tones to Gardez, in the province of Paktia, where in February 2010 US-trained Police Commander Mohammad Daood and two pregnant women were gunned down late at night during a family gathering celebrating the birth of a new-born. NATO said the women killed were victims of Taliban honour-killings, but Daood’s family members, also attending the gathering that night said the shooters were men from the US forces who had later also assaulted survivors. In response, one American General simply stated that these civilians just happened to be ‘in the wrong place at the wrong time’.

Scahill’s investigation into what one survivor of this raid called the ‘American Taliban’, leads him to uncover the then little known JSOC. The then commander of JSOC, William McRaven – who later tried to offer a sheep as compensation for the deaths – was ultimately suspected to be involved in the raid on Gardez that night. Under US President Obama’s orders, JSOC has been given unprecedented authority for covert military operations. Formed in 1980 in the aftermath of Operation Eagle Claw, the failed hostage recovery mission in Iran, JSOC was the very unit responsible for the coordination of Operation Neptune Spear which led to the Abbottabad raid of 1 May 2011, killing Osama Bin Laden.

By Scahill’s estimates, US special operations and interventions have expanded the Global War on Terror to 75 countries. During the course of this film, we are taken into Yemen where Anwar al-Awlaki, the one-time go-to Imam for the United States and an advocate of democracy turned rogue (following the invasions of Afghanistan (2001) and Iraq (2003)), became the first American civilian placed on the drone kill-list. Voice recordings of Awlaki and Obama are played simultaneously, and repeatedly, during the coverage of this operation. ‘Mirror images of each other’, Scahill narrates them to be.

While Scahill’s investigations may be met with dubious voices and harsh criticisms, and his efforts undermined in the same manner as those of other activists, it goes without saying that Scahill’s script succeeds in breathing morality into even the most critical observer. The soul of his film rests in testimonies gathered from families of victims such as members of Awlaki’s family who suffered the loss of his 16-year-old son in a simultaneous drone strike. This second attack seemed to have been a preventive strike, in case the son was to grow up and take on his father’s role. Further, interviews with former warlords of Somalia, supposedly on US payrolls and Scahill’s own conscience which remains at the centre of his storytelling strengthen the script of this film.

Though depicting the human side of war and violence, Scahill makes no half-hearted attempts of providing solutions to the war on terror. Instead, he solemnly voices the concerns of the masses, in that it is likely to go on for a very long time.

‘Our job is to go to the other side of the barrels of guns and the other side of missiles and talk to the enemies. Our job is not to be nationalists. Obama’s administration has targeted more whistle-blowers under the Espionage Act than all his predecessors combined’, said Jeremy Scahill while addressing an audience following a screening of Dirty Wars at Birkbeck University in London. ‘Mr Nobel Peace Prize Winner’, he mocks, ‘is presiding over a global assassination programme’.

Dirty Wars (dir. by Richard Rowley) premièred in the UK 29 October 2013.

Zoha Waseem is a PhD researcher in the Department of War Studies at King’s College London. You can follower her on Twitter @ZohaWaseem.

Canada: The retirement of a global peacekeeper?

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by Joana Cook

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“We cannot close the door on diplomacy. We cannot rule out peaceful solutions to the world’s problems. We cannot commit ourselves to an endless cycle of violence, and tough talk and bluster may be the easy thing to do politically, but it’s not the right thing for our security.” At least our American neighbours to the south think so, as Obama said this week while discussing the recent breakthrough nuclear deal with Iran.

Following tense, and earlier secret negotiations, the P5+1 consisting of the US, Russia, UK, China, Germany and France struck a deal with Iran. This deal, in exchange for the lifting of a number of strict sanctions imposed by the UN, EU, and US (valued at $7 billion USD), will see Iran take a number of clear actions to curb its nuclear program. These include Iran ceasing enrichment above 5%, neutralizing its stockpile which currently exceeds this, and granting greater, regular access to inspectors to its two key nuclear sites, Natanz and Fordo, amongst other clauses.

While this deal has received some criticism in the US, and the expected opposition of Israel, even Saudi Arabia, Iran’s regional rival, offered cautious optimism. So why has Canada opted for a position that can be viewed as cynical at best?

Canada, once viewed as an international peacekeeper, and often still thought as such by its population, has now assumed a stance that can be viewed, in frank terms, as negative and uninspired. Canada justifiably shuttered her embassy in Tehran in 2012 and has ceased any type of relationship with the Iranian government since due to its nuclear ambitions and human rights abuses. While certain P5 members, such as the US and UK, had previously done the same, seeking broader security goals took precedence and high-level contact was carried out between these parties over an extended period of six months to reach this breakthrough deal. This is not the case in Canada, whose Minister of Foreign Affairs, John Baird, stated he was “deeply sceptical of the deal and Iran’s intentions” and had no intention of engaging in the foreseeable future. While stating that Canada wants to be part of a diplomatic solution, and will continue to work through organizations like the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA), little was offered in the way of innovative or inspired approaches that Canada could take to support the constructive actions of the past weekend. It also appeared that higher goals of lasting security, or what positive implications improving relations could play in other areas (such as its influence in Syria), were simply sidelined.

What is now appearing to be an aged, though historic, highpoint for Canada in international diplomacy was its 1957 Nobel Peace Prize won by Canadian Liberal politician Lester B. Pearson for negotiating a peaceful end to the Suez Crisis. As introduced in the presentation speech, Pearson was applauded for his qualities, demonstrated during the crisis – “the powerful initiative, strength, and perseverance he has displayed in attempting to prevent or limit war operations and to restore peace in situations where quick, tactful, and wise action has been necessary to prevent unrest from spreading and developing into a worldwide conflagration”. It is a sentiment which could be easily applicable to modern day Iran, but what is lacking is this same will and spirit.

Canada’s current narrow, even, arguably, non-existent, vision for what is achievable through diplomatic channels risks side-lining itself not only from future negotiations with Iran, but also from other potential opportunities that may rise for it to again utilize its past strengths as negotiator, mediator, and peacekeeper. It will take a strong stance from Canada to do this, but there is no reason it can not engage with Iran while continuing to hold her position and stress the importance of human rights, particularly at this pivotal stage in Iran’s new leadership. With peace talks for Syria now planned in Geneva in January 2014, and instability currently threatening the Central African Republic, there is certainly no lack of opportunity to re-establish a positive global role for Canada in the world.

Simply put, Canada must reflect inwards. It must reassess not only how it views its current position, but also, more broadly, what role it wants to perform on the world stage or whether sitting in the audience will be enough.