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Modern Conflict Favours Autocracies

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Photo by Mathias P.R. Reding on Unsplash

According to Freedom House, 2020 marked the 15th consecutive year of decline in global freedom. Russia continues to interfere with foreign politics and brashly intimidate Ukraine, China leveraged the COVID-19 pandemic to tighten control of its population, and Iran has indicated intentions to increase nuclear activities. Meanwhile, the United States (U.S.) has left a broken Afghanistan after twenty years, Great Britain is reeling from the consequences of Brexit, and the North Atlantic Treaty Organization (NATO) is struggling to maintain relevancy and address growing threats at its borders.

Amidst these changing politics and growing murmurs of great power competition is a shift in the nature of modern conflicts. Some experts argue that the conventional total wars of the 20th century will never occur again. Advances in artificial intelligence, space technologies, and cyber capabilities are digitising the battlefield and encouraging the adoption of unconventional and hybrid warfare. Modern conflict is extending beyond set-piece battles to encompass ever broader means of attaining political aims. Rapid advancements in technology mean that cyberattacks, disinformation campaigns, and proxy militias are replacing conventional troops while being leveraged more cheaply, effectively, and discreetly than ever before. This technology-driven battlefield favours autocracies as it blurs the line between combatants and civilians and confuses the traditional laws of war. Authoritarian regimes are better positioned for this 21st century conflict than democratic states for three key reasons – their suppression of domestic dissent, centralisation of government, and close relationships with industry.

First, a defining characteristic of autocracies is their elimination of opposition and control of information. Authoritarian regimes of the 20th century relied on extensive networks of informants and secret police – 1 in every 6 East Germans provided information to the Stasi after the Second World War. Today’s technology eliminates such cumbersome systems while simultaneously improving a state’s ability to surveil and control its population. Freedom House’s 15-year decline in democracy corresponds closely with the rise of the internet age, while research has found that today’s ‘digital autocracies’ are more durable than both their historic predecessors and their less technologically adept peers. Led by China, the use of digital tools enables autocracies in previously impossible ways. Massive amounts of data are generated on every citizen and used to control the population through social credit scores and arrest. Autocracies leverage technology by using deep fakes, disinformation, and internet outages to discredit political opponents, tamp down protests, or suppress unfavourable news coverage. And technological advancements only promise increasingly sophisticated ways for autocracies to monitor and manipulate their populations.

Digital autocracies are thus advantaged over democratic states in modern conflict because they effectively reduce public pressure on government actions. A 2020 RAND report found that the influence of public opinion restricted the options and tools available to democracies as compared to autocracies in conflicts. While democracies experience immense public pressure that often limits foreign policy decisions, authoritarian regimes enabled by technology face fewer constraints. Democratic leaders must spend nontrivial amounts of time and money during war to reduce civilian casualties, maintain public support, and win re-election. By contrast, authoritarian regimes are less accountable to their populations, making it easier for them to break international law without consequence, such as Russia’s enforced silence regarding soldiers killed in Ukraine. In suppressing domestic dissent more successfully than ever, autocracies are at an asymmetric advantage in modern conflict because of their flexibility of action unchecked by public opinion.

A second common, although not universal, attribute of autocracies is government centralisation. By concentrating power, authoritarian leaders ensure more control over their state’s budget, long-term planning, national security, legal infrastructure, popular culture, and foreign policy. The U.S. and China demonstrate the stark difference between decentralised and centralised government. The U.S. government quarrels annually over a budget and sometimes shuts down, whereas the Chinese Communist Party (CCP) articulates long-term plans spanning decades. Although the legitimacy of these long-term plans are contested, their mere existence demonstrates a governmental unity that democratic states like the U.S. will likely never achieve. Autocratic governments also tend to be more consolidated than democratic ones, with few independent bodies, limited organic growth, and highly integrated systems. China even has surveillance mechanisms in place to ensure CCP employees are dedicated to the party’s vision and motivated to perform.

Such centralisation can be advantageous to authoritarian states in modern conflict, particularly with the rise of hybrid and unconventional warfare. The commonly espoused antidote for Western democracies in the face of hybrid warfare is a ‘whole of government’ response. Because hybrid warfare is so diffuse, targeting everything from power grids to congressional emails, an enormous number of entities outside of the military may be involved. Democracies often scramble to unite disparate entities for a cohesive defence and response to unconventional warfare, such as the U.S. during the recent SolarWinds hack. Conversely, centralised autocracies are inherently well-positioned because they enact ‘whole of government’ responses to conflict by default. Moreover, centralised autocracies may have fewer cyber and human vulnerabilities to exploit. Aggressive control of communications infrastructure and security practices, such as the CCP’s monitoring of all internet traffic, can improve cybersecurity nationwide. Centralised autocracies use methods to control employees and citizens’ loyalty and technology usage, further limiting susceptibilities to information operations and social engineering. Government centralisation thus benefits autocracies in modern conflict by reducing vulnerabilities and structurally ensuring holistic responses to threats.

Finally, autocracies tend to be much more closely integrated with national industry than democracies. China and Russia typify two differing ways these relationships manifest. China’s president Xi Jinping has taken steps to integrate the CCP into all private companies, pushing for CCP board appointees, eliminating powerful or disloyal business leaders, and coercing foreign companies to support the CCP’s ‘United Front’. Furthermore, China’s 2017 national intelligence law requires organisations within China to ‘support, assist, and cooperate with the state intelligence work’. This law effectively mandates all businesses operating in China to provide any or all of their information and services to the government if asked. While the law technically only applies to intelligence, it is an easy stepping stone to more malign uses – and Chinese companies touch everything from Apple to General Electric, from Hollywood to Wall Street. As China has aggressively legislated its control over industry, Russia has embraced opportunities of partnership. Russia is increasingly using private military companies as proxy militias while encouraging or hiring civilians to undertake cyberattacks and information operations. Usage of civilians in these roles provides Russia with plausible deniability and increased capability. It also complicates any response from NATO and the West because of the complexities of international law and combatant designations.

Despite differences in approach, Russia and China’s leverage of national industry in a way unique to autocracies advantages them in modern conflict. Democracies, built on ideas of freedom of expression and freedom of action, cannot force industry to partner with defence.

Burgeoning technology companies, the quickening pace of research, and the evolving role of dual-use technology are forcing western defence departments to rely more heavily on private innovation. Budgetary constraints and public resistance, such as with Project Maven, are antagonising Western democracies’ defence contracts even as peer autocracies forge ahead with industry relationships unfettered by morals or law. Such easy relationships with industry cheapen and quicken defence acquisitions for autocracies. Conversely, democracies are obligated to pursue contracts within a framework heavily restricted by democratic principles, public opinion, and law. Autocracies are thus vastly advantaged in modern conflict by relationships with industry that democracies cannot match.

Rapid technological development is shaping the 21st century, changing the nature of warfare, and cementing the power of autocracies. Modern conflict, defined by hybrid and unconventional warfare, favours some of the unique characteristics of autocracies – suppression of domestic dissent, government centralisation, and close relationships with industry. Autocracies are of course not infallible though, and democracies are not doomed. Democracies are advantaged with a creativity, diversity, and passion rarely found within authoritarian regimes. While quashing of dissent and extreme centralisation can be beneficial, it is also dangerous. There are few mechanisms in place to guide autocratic leaders away from missteps – any one of which may be disastrous given the often deeply integrated nature of the government. And even as technology enables better surveillance, it enables better evasion, too. Populations under repressive rule are rarely silent, and an autocracy’s power is fragile. Western democracies would be prudent to consider the chinks in autocracies’ armour, even as they reckon with the large chinks in their own. Modern conflict favours autocracies, and the democratic West must prepare to face this new reality.

Disclaimer: The opinions and assertions contained herein are the private opinions of the author and are not to be construed as official or reflecting the views of the United States Department of Defense or the United States Air Force.

Organized criminal groups’ impacts on Mexico’s Energy Sector since the 2000s

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Photo by Roberto Arcide on Unsplash

Organized criminal groups have severely hampered Mexico’s energy sector since the 2000s, as their violence and fuel theft have disrupted energy development, delayed sector diversification, and discouraged foreign investment. Cartel violence and theft influence energy companies’ work schedules and tasks, project risks, and maintenance costs. Organized criminal groups have contributed to delays in Mexico’s efforts to diversify the energy sector, especially in regards to natural gas production and shale development. High costs associated with private security contracts and initiatives, as well as a bleak outlook regarding violence, cause foreign firms to hesitate when considering ventures in Mexico.

State-owned petroleum company Petróleos Mexicanos (Pemex) provides about one-third of Mexico’s federal tax revenues, but at the same time the United States was experiencing significant increases in gas and oil production during the ‘shale revolution,’ Pemex announced its pipelines had been ‘practically taken over by organized crime and armed groups’ stealing the oil to sell on the black market. Fuel theft, or ‘huachicol,’ which steadily increased to an all-time high in 2018 of nearly 15,000 illegal taps and has only slightly subsided since then to 11,022 taps in 2020, has enabled cartels to diversify their portfolios and become even wealthier and more powerful. At the height of illegal siphoning, the Pemex CEO stated fuel theft was costing Pemex the equivalent of U.S. $1.5 billion per year. Recently, the frequency of these taps decreased due to arresting collaborators and an increased presence of security forces at siphoning hotspots. Security and theft concerns have shaken Mexico’s energy sector and will continue to hamper it until the government develops an efficient strategy to reduce violence, prevent fuel theft, and restore security.

Organized criminal groups’ activities have disrupted energy exploration, development, and production, largely stemming from the overlapping territory of cartels and oil and gas development. In December 2006, newly-inaugurated Mexican President Felipe Calderón launched a war on drugs that, within a few months, involved 20,000 troops in counter-drug operations across the country. Cartels retreated to their support zones, where they diversified portfolios to make up for destroyed drug crops and interdicted shipments. As oil prices rose globally, cartels stole from oil and gas facilities, trucks, and Mexico’s hard-to-defend 17,000-mile pipeline network, as their territories overlapped with the most prolific areas for oil and gas development. Fuel theft rendered greater profits than cocaine trafficking, as money spent on necessary equipment to extract fuel from pipelines could be recovered within two days of operations, due to strong profits in the black market. Violence between warring factions and high frequencies of fuel theft led Pemex and other firms to conduct daily security briefings and institute strict work hours to keep employees indoors between 4 p.m. and 8 a.m. Violence and illegal taps of pipelines also led Pemex to temporarily shut down stations and halt routine maintenance in some areas.

In addition to organized criminal groups’ direct targeting and violence, their activities have also affected communities through unintentional explosions caused by clandestine siphoning. These incidents involve excessive maintenance requirements to repair holes, but illegal taps of pipelines have also caused dozens of catastrophic accidents. The deadliest explosion occurred in Texmelucan in 2010 when a few members of the Zetas cartel tried to siphon oil from a pipeline, but a spark produced a gas explosion and oil fire that killed 29 and injured 52. Such incidents have diverted money away from further exploration and development to address urgent maintenance needs and pay for collateral damage.

These groups’ activities have also delayed the diversification of Mexico’s energy sector. Cartel violence hindering development contributes to Mexico’s consistent decline in natural gas output (nearly halved from 60,000 million cubic meters of production in 2009 to around 30,000 million in 2019), ensuring Mexico remains dependent on foreign gas. In 2004, the Spanish energy and petrochemical firm Repsol became the first foreign company to drill in Mexico since the country nationalized the oil industry 66 years earlier, but after completing a 10-year contract with Pemex to develop conventional natural gas fields near the northern Mexican border, the firm left because even with hired private security, cartel violence was unsurmountable. During Repsol’s drilling in the Burgos Basin, Pemex reported that cartels stole as much as 40 per cent of the Basin’s natural gas condensate, which also implicated U.S. energy companies for allegedly encouraging the theft, further complicating attempts to diversify Mexico’s energy sector.

Violence is also largely to blame for Mexico’s dashed hopes of leveraging fracking to reverse a ‘national decline in oil and natural gas output to two-decade lows.’ In the early 2010s, the United States drastically increased domestic oil and natural gas production during the ‘shale revolution.’ A similar fracking boom in Mexico, however, has yet to materialize with its 545 trillion cubic feet of shale reserves, compared to the U.S.’s estimated 665 trillion cubic feet. A lack of infrastructure, heavy regulation, and water scarcity contributed to this delay, but concern for security and theft is a significant obstacle. After reforms ended Pemex’s 70-year monopoly on Mexican oil in an attempt to attract foreign investment, fracking executives in Texas stated they would have ‘likely expand[ed] into Mexico if the government could [have] address[ed] the violence,’ but the lack of a firm response from the Mexican government caused them to hesitate. Most concerns are linked to violence caused by the Gulf and Zeta cartels operating near Mexico’s shale plays in Sabinas, Burgos, Tampico-Misantla, and Veracruz Basins.

Such violence and costs associated with security or repairs discourage foreign investment. As organized criminal groups diversified revenue sources, extortion and kidnappings of energy sector employees became frequent. The Zetas, in particular, tortured and slaughtered victims, but as groups fixated on the energy sector, the risk for oil workers increased. Cartels kidnapped over 50 Pemex employees between 2004 and 2014. Through the Zetas’ policy of ‘plata o plomo’ (‘take the money or take the lead,’ meaning a bullet, although ‘steel’ would be more appropriate for their signature punishment of decapitation by chainsaw), they enforced complicity with fuel theft. Given this security situation, foreign companies were, and remain, unwilling to invest in development projects or send workers to Mexico.

Steep security expenses to protect people, infrastructure, and resources have dissuaded foreign companies from investing in Mexico’s energy sector. As a state-owned enterprise, Pemex has benefitted from military escorts and patrols protecting one of Mexico’s key revenue sources. Even so, Pemex armed and trained workers to fend off fuel thieves and hired private contractors for areas prone to violence because military support was not enough. Grupo Unne, a transportation company moving fuel, even instituted a satellite tracking system to monitor fuel vehicle location and status to further enhance security. Foreign firms with energy ventures in Mexico must factor in costs to protect their assets, a financial burden that shows little promise of subsiding anytime soon.

Organized criminal groups’ violence and fuel theft have disrupted energy development, delayed sector diversification, and discouraged foreign investment. Steps taken by Mexican President Andrés Manuel López Obrador’s administration seem to have slightly reduced pipeline siphoning, as the number of illegal taps countrywide decreased by around twenty-six per cent in his first two years in office, but as long as fuel theft and violence in the vicinity of oil and gas production persists, cartels will continue to generate profits at the expense of the Mexican economy and energy diversification. The Mexican security apparatus remains weak, despite reform efforts. Mexico’s National Guard, recently established with the mandate to combat crime, has been heavily involved in border security operations due to the migration crisis. President López Obrador supported constitutional reforms to permit military involvement in public security for an additional five years, contrary to a 2018 Supreme Court ruling that such an action was unconstitutional, reflecting the country’s dire security situation. Community defence forces may be one resource the state can still leverage. Although Mexico seems to have missed the opportunity during former President Peña Nieto’s term to train and integrate self-defence forces as part of the Rural Defence Corps, reinvigorated efforts to integrate such groups to improve security conditions may still be possible in parts of western Mexico through efforts led by the National Guard. Effective integration and utilization of such self-defence forces may enhance security and enable federal forces to focus on securing energy infrastructure. Unless the government restores security at and around energy development sites, Mexico will remain dependent on foreign gas, despite its massive natural gas deposits and potential for domestic production.

The opinions expressed in this article are those of the author alone and do not reflect the official position of the U.S. Army, the Department of Defense, or the U.S. Government. Also, the appearance of hyperlinks does not constitute endorsement by the U.S. Army, the DoD, or the U.S. Government of the referenced sites or the information, products, or services contained therein

Can Artificial Intelligence shape the way we conduct war in the future?

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Photo by Hitesh Choudhary on Unsplash

The country that leads in artificial intelligence (AI) development ‘will be the ruler of the world’. Those are the words of Vladimir Putin. His government was indirectly involved in the recent conventional war in 2020 between Armenian and Azeri forces to control the Nagorno-Karabakh region. During this conflict, we have seen the use of drones in an unprecedented way. In addition to weaponized drones, swarm tactics are disrupting conventional warfare, and we are seeing new developments of drones being integrated with fifth and sixth-generation fighter aircraft. The common denominator between all those recent technological developments is the emergence and implementation of artificial intelligence technologies, shaping the way wars will be conducted in the future.

Artificial intelligence, or more precisely machine learning, can provide a tactical advantage on the battlefield. As demonstrated by the recent conflict between Armenia and Azerbaijan over the Nagorno-Karabakh region, weaponized drones can offer a significant advantage. Azerbaijan, supported by the Turkish military, massively deployed a fleet of Unmanned Aircraft Vehicles (UAVs) equipped with increasingly autonomous and surveillance capabilities. The deployment of those drones, such as the Turkish TB2 unmanned combat aerial vehicle (UCAV), had a substantial disruptive impact on the battlefield as the Azeri forces were able to destroy 47% of the Armenian combat vehicles and 93% of its artillery. This is a significant breakthrough in conventional warfare as low-cost drones can offer robust air power while disrupting the enemy’s air defence systems in a successful manner. The implications for the future of warfare are ‘game-changing’, according to U.K. Defense Secretary Ben Wallace.

As an extension of weaponized UAVs, drone swarms have the potential to disrupt conventional warfare as well. An AI-powered fully autonomous drone swarm would combine mass, firepower, and speed, which could overwhelm the enemy’s defensive systems through coordinated and synchronized attacks. The potential use of swarm tactics has generated some anxiety among top western defence officials. General John M. Murray, head of the United States Army Futures Command (AFC), has expressed his concern that humans may not adequately be able to address the challenges posed by emerging drone swarm threats. General Murray posits that, ultimately, an AI engine would better be equipped than a human to counter swarm attacks as a human would not be able to keep up.

Furthermore, AI-enabled unmanned underwater vehicle (UUV) swarm systems are also being tested to track and potentially damage submarines, forcing them to lose their stealth characteristics vital for their survival and strategic nuclear deterrence. In addition, Chinese UUV swarms could potentially take out an entire aircraft carrier group in the near future, as argued by Franz-Stefan Gady in a hypothetical scenario published in the International Institute for Strategic Studies’ 2021 Regional Security Assessment.

Machine learning could also revolutionize warfare by integrating military manned and unmanned systems. The most common example of this application is from the Loyal Wingman project, such as the Kratos XQ-58A. Dubbed as Skyborg, the U.S. Air Force is working on an AI application that will allow the autonomous operation of drones. In line with the 2018 United States Air Force (USAF) Artificial Intelligence Strategy, the Skyborg program aims to integrate this system into various unmanned platforms. The program will allow them to operate alongside fourth and fifth-generation fighter aircraft like the Boeing F-15EX or the Lockheed Martin F-35, and to enable them to take on missions too risky for human pilots. The immediate benefit of an AI-enabled system is the increase in speed of decision-making, to improve aerial combat maneuvers and weapons employment by creating a virtual ‘co-pilot.’ The program received a positive boost with the first successful flight in April 2021, moving the USAF one step closer to fielding an uncrewed ‘loyal wingman’ for human pilots.

The U.S. is not the only country working on such an AI-enabled system to enhance its air force capabilities: the Okhotnik-B, the Russian equivalent of wingman, is an upcoming sixth-generation heavy stealth drone that will fly alongside the fifth-generation fighter Su-57. Fully autonomous, the Okhotnik-B would be able to track multiple targets while flying alongside the Su-57.

However, not all those new technological developments are widely adopted yet. Within NATO, there is a reluctance to deploy such AI systems due to a lack of trust. Giving complete control of a weapon system to an AI-enabled machine raises several moral and ethical questions with tremendous political ramifications within NATO countries like France and Germany. For now, the future of AI-enabled systems in NATO countries is likely to be confined to improve logistic systems and perform predictive maintenance operations.

Countries with less ethical constraints are currently increasing their capability in AI driven UAV systems. Lagging in terms of capability in that domain, NATO countries may find themselves at a disadvantage against traditional and emerging threats such as Russia and China. NATO needs to assess what those technological advancements in Artificial Intelligence mean for warfare and develop a realistic and strategic approach to incorporate them into existing military systems.

The data explosion and the emergence of new AI-powered systems are likely to change how wars are conducted in the 21st century, as illustrated by the Nagorno war and recent technological developments.

Different colours, same hats? UN vs. non-UN peace operations

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The AU/UN Joint benchmarking team led by the Head of the African Union Peace Support Operations Division head Mr. Sivuyile Bam Bam, poses for a poto with senior AMISOM officers in Baidoa on April 18, 2015. AMISOM Photo / Abdikarim Mohamed

From the period of June 1948 to December 2000, non-United Nations (UN) actors implemented 53 peacekeeping operations, a figure identical to that of the number of operations deployed by the UN during the same period. Since the turn of the century, moreover, the number of peace operations deployed by regional organisations and coalitions of states has surpassed that of those initiated by the UN. This historic, and burgeoning, proliferation of non-UN peace operations has solicited an enduring and seemingly strategically important research agenda seeking to determine whether UN or regional peace operations are better-equipped to intervene in civil wars. This article contends that the prevailing conceptual dichotomy between UN and non-UN peace operations is in large part an illusory one. Through an analysis focussed primarily on regional/UN operations on the African continent, the article posits first that an increasing level of UN support for regional operations blurs distinct analytical lines between the two. Second, regional and UN peace operations often operate according to a de facto division of labour, meaning some comparative statements pit UN/regional operations against one another according to false standards. Third, the increasing regionalisation of UN peace operations renders the UN/non-UN dichotomy a weak one.

The UN/non-UN Playoff

While large-n quantitative studies charting the track record of UN vs. regional peace operations can identify valuable broad-scale patterns, these studies reap often inconsistent results. This is in part due to the fact that such investigations are ultimately contingent upon how authors define and code peacekeeping operational success, amongst other variables. For instance, one quantitative analysis argues that, controlling for ‘mission difficulty’, UN and non-UN operations have a similar ‘success’ rate, yet a similar study finds UN operations to be more successful than non-UN operations whilst controlling for the same variable. Furthermore, a 2020 study concluding that only UN operations curb violence against civilians committed by non-state actors is contrasted by recent research finding that non-UN peace operations limit rebel-caused violence.

Speculative theoretical stances attributing innate premiums to either regional or UN peace operations are similarly contradictory. Primordialist accounts recite the UN’s alleged intrinsic global moral authority over peacekeeping, premised upon its unique mandate for the maintenance of international peace and security, claims to the UN’s transcendent impartiality, and the belief that, ultimately, ‘peacekeeping is UN business’. In contrast, proponents of regional solutions to regional problems tout the inherent pre-eminence of non-UN intervention based on the idea that the people and governments of one region have a natural affinity with others in that region and an intrinsic distrust of external intervention. Ultimately, advantages in political will, legitimacy, and rationalist-material factors are ascribed equally to either regional actors or the UN, depending on who is doing the ascribing. One common theme throughout these conflicting inferences, however, is that they subscribe to a binary UN vs. non-UN taxonomy of peace operations. In practice, this taxonomy is much more convoluted.

Past the Regional/UN Dichotomy

Whilst the UN has sought its own resource-based support from some regional organisations – the European Union, for example – it provides an increasing degree of quasi-institutionalised support to regional peace operations on the African continent. For instance, the United Nations Support Office for the African Union Mission in Somalia (UNSOA) uses assessed contributions for peacekeeping to directly support a non-UN peace operation: the African Union Mission in Somalia (AMISOM). Mounting debates over the creation of a similar support office to finance the G5 Sahel Joint Force coalition using assessed peacekeeping contributions point to a more widespread, growing interconnection between UN and non-UN operations. Indeed, some forewarn of a new type of UN peace operation, led by the Department of Operational Support, as a result of this trend. Thus, while the case of the hybrid African Union (AU)-UN operation in Darfur epitomises explicit UN-regional organisation cooperation, relationships between the two operate on a much broader scale. Unprecedented support structures emerging from the UN dictate that more regional peacekeeping also effectively means more UN peacekeeping; the two are by no means divorced from one another.

Furthermore, there often exists to some extent a temporal division of labour between UN and regional peace operations. The AU, for example, has often demonstrated a clear preference to deploy interim operations that act deliberate precursors to UN intervention. AU operations in Mali (2013) and the Central African Republic (2014) were recast as UN missions within one year of their deployment, and the AU explicitly demanded the deployment of a UN follow-up mission to the African Union Mission to Somalia (AMISOM) within six months of AMISOM’s implementation in 2007. That this did not come to fruition does not alter the reality that the AU at least conceives of its peace operations as short-term measures. As such, assessing regional operations directly against UN operations fails to account for key differences in mandated objectives and the comparative advantages held by each in line with this temporal division of labour.

What is more, UN operations themselves have frequently emerged as a preferred form of regional peacekeeping, particularly in sub-Saharan Africa. In 2009, former UN Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon proclaimed that African troops in UN operations were ‘helping to find African solutions to African challenges’, appealing to the popular mantra coined to underscore the benefits of regional intervention. This sentiment echoes an enduring tendency for neighbouring states to supply the bulk of troops for UN peace operations. For instance, in August of 1999, Nigeria insisted upon a phased withdrawal of troops from the regional Economic Community of West African States’ (ECOWAS) peace operation in Sierra Leone, offering instead to subsume these troops into a new UN operation (UNAMSIL). The same regional troops were effectively rehatted under the auspices of the UN. In a similar vein, ECOWAS countries plus Chad provide nearly two thirds of the UN operation in Mali’s military personnel, reflecting a tendency for regional states to compose a large bulk of UN troops.

This regionalisation is also reflected in the data. Throughout the 2000s, sub-Saharan African contributions to UN peacekeeping increased significantly. Notably, though, the majority of this increase in contributions was disproportionately channelled towards UN operations within the continent; from 2001-2009, sub-Saharan Africa’s commitment remained relatively stable to an ever-increasing number of military personnel deployed outside the region, with the figure remaining between 680 and 1,120 troops. In contrast, sub-Saharan African contributions to UN peacekeeping within the African continent rose from 8,441 troops in 2001 to 20,677 in 2009, a 145% increase. As such, while sub-Saharan African participation in UN (global) peacekeeping ascended rapidly in the early 21st century, it in fact became more localised and regional.

Conclusion

While failing to acknowledge distinctions between UN and non-UN peace operations is clearly unproductive, increasingly blurred lines between the two divulge a fundamental tension inherent in the conceptual UN/regional peacekeeping binary. There is a spurious homogenisation inherent in arranging a vast and diverse scope of peace operations into a taxonomy of UN vs. non-UN-sanctioned interventions, meaning ‘non-UN’ and, to a lesser extent, ‘UN’ as categories of peace operations require considerable further disaggregation in order to be able to draw meaningful comparisons. Paul Diehl’s 1993 observation that the success of regional peacekeeping is contingent upon many of the same factors as UN peacekeeping has withstood the test of time; regional peacekeeping is not the antithesis of UN peacekeeping and vice versa.

Bhutan’s well-kept secret: The Lhotshampa Exodus and the plight of the 100,000

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One of 7 refugee camps in eastern Nepal that have been housing 108.000 Bhutanese refugees since the early 1990s. Photo Credit: Katrine Syppli Kohl, licensed under Creative Commons

Bhutan, a small nation tucked away in the Himalayan region of South Asia is famous for its young-Monarch and its use of Gross National Happiness to measure prosperity. The entire world looks at Bhutan as a peaceful and prosperous nation with picturesque landscapes. However, a dark part of Bhutan’s history is often side-lined from discussions in the mainstream international sphere.

Over recent years, there has been a great amount of debate surrounding the migrant and refugee issue and a lot of attention has been directed towards the Mediterranean region. However, little to no discussion or attention has been given to the Lhotshampa refugees who were forcefully evicted from Southern Bhutan during the 1990s. Bhutan, often known as the last Shangri-la has generated one of the highest numbers of refugees in Asia.

Who are the Lhotshampa?

The Lhotshampa people are an ethnic minority in Bhutan who are of Nepalese descent and have lived in Bhutan since the 1600s. Most of the people migrated to Bhutan as commissioned traders and craftsmen to help in infrastructure projects like building Stupa’s and roadways such as the Thimpu-Phuntsholing highway. The population of these minorities flourished as they settled in Southern areas of Bhutan, and they were given the name Lhotshampa; meaning the people of the South. The migration to Bhutan continued largely unregulated with no government supervision and the minorities’ population grew over the years with most given Bhutanese citizenship.

Historical Context of the Ethnic Tension

The growing number of ethnic minorities was viewed as a threat to the Bhutanese cultural and national identity and differentiation between the population began to take shape with the introduction of series of discriminatory practices aimed at excluding minorities. Since the 1980s the government of Bhutan comprising primarily Ngalong; descendants of Tibetan Buddhists who make up the majority population of the country, introduced a series of discriminatory measures politically and culturally excluding the minorities.

With the introduction of the Citizenship Act of 1977 and 1985 the requirements for obtaining citizenship were tightened. The Acts established a cut-off year, 1958, as proof of being Bhutanese citizens. The year 1958 was stated as the cut-off date as most of the Bhutanese people were provided identification cards. Residents unable to supply this proof were categorised as illegal immigrants and were evicted from their properties and detained. Following these acts, a census was carried out in Southern Bhutan in 1988 with the aim of classifying the residents between nationals and non-nationals. This was an exercise deliberately aimed at othering the Lhotshampa minorities. Furthermore, Bhutanese in the northern region were provided citizenship on the basis of their race whilst the residents of the Southern borderland were required to produce identity documents in order to prove themselves as true-Bhutanese.

The process of systematic discrimination grew as people deemed ‘illegal’ were forced to sign voluntary migration and leaving certificates and were evicted from their land with little or no compensation while people who protested these laws were imprisoned, tortured and harassed. Through the ‘One Nation, One People’ Policy, the government imposed cultural and linguistic restrictions including removal of minority languages from the curriculum to imposing a strict dress-code policy. National integration policies based on northern Bhutanese traditions and cultures were mandated by the monarch, with the intention of erases ethnic minority cultures. The cultural code imposed a dress regulations called “Driglam Namzha” which are based on northern Bhutanese garments and identity markers. Furthermore, the royal decree also included a halt to the use of Nepali; the language used by the minorities as a classroom language and replaced it with Dzongkha.

Discriminatory practices like these introduced by the government fuelled ethnic tensions and created a large outflow of refugees as many fled the country seeking refuge in Nepal. The number of registered refugees in Nepal reached an excess of 100,000.

Plight of the Refugees

The Lhotshampa minorities who fled the country to seek refuge in Nepal have been denied re-entry into Bhutan on the grounds that they are illegal migrants. The refugees were settled into different camps in the South Eastern region of Nepal. As of 2007, there were over 108,00 refugees were living in seven camps in Nepal.

The aim to repatriate the people and provide them the right to return to Bhutan has been stalled as the government of Bhutan refuses to recognise the minorities as legal Bhutanese citizens. The lack of urgency and attention paid to the refugees has led to the prolonged plight of a people who have been consigned to live in camps for over 25 years. Though many refugees have been resettled abroad under United States and other neutral country schemes, many refugees continue to fight for their right to return. With two functional camps still in Nepal, the refugees still have hopes that they can one day return to a place they call their homeland. There are still over 18,000 refugees in the remaining camps in Nepal, most who live with the hopes of returning to their homeland.

The governments of Nepal and Bhutan, as active members of the South Asian Association for Regional Cooperation, must urgently engage in dialogue to find a solution to the problem. The diplomatic relations between the countries have remained bitter since the start of the crisis, despite multiple attempts to resolve the problem the two nations have been unable to reach a plausible solution. The bitter relationship between the two nations will hopefully improve when the crisis is mitigated with proper dialogue between the nations.