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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.

How Covid-19 kills debate in Germany

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Demonstrations against the pandemic restrictions take place regularly in Germany. Photo Credit: Leonhard Lenz, licensed under Creative Commons.

Germany has a historically sensitive relationship to the freedom of the individual and the Grundgesetz, its constitution, granting the freedom of speech. The terror of the Third Reich, and the GDR (German Democratic Republic )has left scars on the people living in Germany today. Now, the Covid-19 crisis and the restrictive change of public life triggered the fear of a restriction of personal freedom and speech for some again.

Right from the start of the pandemic, disagreement with the measurements taken by the government pushed the people onto the streets. The protests, however, are heterogenic: they not only attract concerned citizens but anti-vaxxer and esoterics, and they are also a haven for conspiracy theorists and representatives of the far-right and far-left scenes.

The German public and authorities are especially worried about the presence of some well-known right-extremist. While this is a legitimate reason to worry about, the protests during the pandemic and their perception in the public are a devastating symptom of change of German culture of debate, which has worsened over the last years. In times of crisis, the ground for discussion and consensus among people seems to diminish even more. Even though the majority of the German population had supported the restrictions or had even argued for their tougher enforcement, the voices shouting that politicians robbed the citizens of their constitutional rights are loud and picked up by the media. The dissent about the Covid-19 restrictions has made someone of another opinion your enemy.

The extreme division of opinion, the shrinking of a common ground that would allow a debate, is not a new phenomenon – neither in Western democracies nor in Germany. In the federal republic, however, it can be connected to some key challenges Germany had to tackle in the last ten years. Above all is the refugee crisis in Europe: Around one million refugees sought asylum in Germany in 2015. Chancellor Angela Merkel decided to admit them, and her slogan “we can do this” became famous – for some as a motivational quote, while for others as a misjudgment of reality. In the German public, there was no wider range of opinion anymore; one either clearly supported Merkels’ politics or not. It was during this time that the Alternative for Germany party (AfD) established itself as right-wing force with populistic slogans and gained great support among the voters.

The party contributed to a new discourse that divides society deeply now: A debate about the question to what extend the usage of so-called politically correct terms was a limitation of the freedom of expression; especially with regard to foreigners coming to Germany but also regarding gendering nouns in the German language. The AfD and their supporters claim that there are some things you are ‘not allowed to say any more’ due to a growing left- and green ideological thinking in society.

However, one could identify the transformation of what is said and socially accepted as a sign of a progressive society – be it through gendering nouns in the German language or the exclusion of vocabulary that is discriminatory to foreigners. But the representatives of the right-wing see this development of language as proof of the decline of their democratic right to speak freely. By negating and criticizing this development, they pushed the norms of what can be said in public further to the right instead. Consequently, this is met with heavy criticism in and outside the Bundestag. Even though this is the only right reaction to a party undermining democracies (or put differently: You can not argue with right-wing extremists) the consequence of the political landscape changing the way of dialogue in the public sphere shouldn’t be underestimated in its effects on our culture of debate which slowly seems to diminish.

This development has reached another peak with regard to the protests during the pandemic. Because of the instrumentalisation of the protests by right-wing representatives who had opposed all restrictions with all means possible, the protests quickly lost their former purpose of criticizing the political measures taken against the pandemic. The people who wanted to make use of their democratic right of protesting and criticizing the government were quickly made allies to right-wing tendencies by the public. The ground on which some express their concerns regarding the restrictive measures by the government is shared with right-wing extremists. A moral dilemma exists here: every critique seems to be a taunt working at the front of healthcare, or potentially supports tendencies that want to ‘delegitimize the state’. On the other hand, the ones who are supporting the government are blamed to be ‘Schlafschafe’ (‘sleeping sheep’) who believed anything by the government critics.

This generalization has shrunken the room for critique within society has shrunk. Just recently this dilemma reached a new level of escalation. 53 German actors released videos in which they satirically criticized the Covid-19 restrictions, Angela Merkel, and the work of the press during the pandemic. Their contributions differed in their level of critique: while some addressed the media, others wanted to raise attention to the devastating economic situation of the art and entertainment scene. Nevertheless, the backlash was intense. The media raged – within hours the videos were retweeted by representatives of the far-right and eventually labeled as members of the ‘Querdenker’-movement which is under observation by the German Intelligence service due to its right-wing extremist tendencies. While some of the actors could be proven to be close to the movement, others could not. Some have tried to distance themselves from the statements made, part of their reputation seems lost. Should they have known better?

The heated discussion shows how differentiated and framed an opinion must be in order to not be torn apart. The interaction between the two camps has lost common ground in terms of opinion and behavior: Online hate speech and extreme polarization in social media are at the core of the discussion fueling its heating further.

What is granted by constitutional law – the freedom of speech – does not necessarily apply to the climate in society. This development entails a profound issue: when extremist views within society are canceled, it has the side-effect that similar, but less extreme views are silenced too. The scale of opinion is thus shrunken. People are more careful about what they say – even if it is just a more conservative or more liberal viewpoint – awaiting to be excluded from some debates. The relation between the freedom of speech, the rise of sensitivity within society for its protection, and the progressive change of norms within language is tense.

The debate about the correct political action taken in the Covid-19 crisis has followed a curve of escalation, making it more about the fundamental allocation to the right or left political camp than about the factual discussion of pandemic necessity. The corona crisis in Germany has damaged the culture of debate in Germany even more. With five more state elections happening this year and the retirement of longstanding chancellor Merkel in September, the federal election will be a game-changer. If the outcome of the elections or the way of life in post-pandemic times will change the culture of debate in Germany is not clear but full of hope.

Dutch tolerance: reality, myth, or something in between?

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Dutch police forces preparing for more riots. Photo by Ben Koorengevel on Unsplash

If you ask Dutch secondary school students to describe the Netherlands in one word, they will probably answer: tolerant. The principle of tolerance – or rather being tolerant – is deeply embedded in Dutch history and culture. It finds its origin in the 80 years’ war (1568-1648) and the Dutch ‘Golden Age’ (17th century). After years of bloodshed between Protestants and Catholics, tolerance became the norm in the Republic of the United Netherlands. According to school books, tolerance allowed the Dutch to become leaders in world trade and attract enlightened thinkers from all over the world, such as René Descartes and Baruch Spinoza. Dutch tolerance has evolved over the centuries. The Netherlands was the first country to allow gay marriage and has highly liberal views on contentious topics such as prostitution and soft drugs. Tolerance is also reflected in the way the Dutch run their daily lives and national politics. In decision-making processes, tolerance is embodied in the so-called ‘poldermodel:’ a system of negotiation that focusses on consensus instead of confrontation. ‘Polderen’ is present in all layers of Dutch society and requires people to compromise and cooperate, all while tolerating opposing views.

The precious national value of tolerance, however, is not invincible. The country is no utopia; racism, sexism, and homophobia are, unfortunately, systemic issues many Dutch face daily. Furthermore, recently the Dutch ‘poldermodel’ has faced serious challenges, too. The aggressive riots that followed the introduction of the national curfew, ‘De Avondklokrellen’ (curfew riots, 23-26 January 2021), stand in stark contrast to the Dutch culture of consensus and compromise. This article investigates how these riots came to be and whether they should be considered an outlier or a severe crack in the Dutch idea of tolerance.

The Curfew Riots of January 2021

One might argue that the curfew riots are merely a product of the unique situation we find ourselves in, a global pandemic, and the resultant measures that have had to be implemented. Historically, many claim that riots are a common if not normal reaction to government-enforced quarantines. Riots, for instance, broke out in England and Russia during the 19th-century cholera pandemic. Last year, protests against governments’ COVID-19 measures were widespread and occurred in states like the US and Germany. Moreover, 2020 saw a general surge of protest movements challenging racism, sexism, and government corruption. This atmosphere of protest combined with the widespread use of social media on an (inter)national level by those involved might have led to a diffusion of these protests.

The Netherlands, however, has never before experienced such massive riots in reaction to global pandemics. Furthermore, during other crises, like the Second World War, there were few significant acts of public protest in the Netherlands. Additionally, there is also plenty of evidence to suggest that people will not necessarily react angrily or panicked during a crisis but will try to be cooperative and supportive of one another. So although these riots might be part of an international wave of protest, it is questionable whether it would be justified to name the pandemic the sole cause of the riots. Therefore, it remains unclear why so many Dutch recently took to the streets and whether this is ‘un-Dutch’ like many historians and criminologists claim.

It would be wrong to pretend the Dutch are the best students in the class. Indeed, they do not have a legacy of public protest like the French, but despite the poldermodel, protests occur in the Netherlands. This is not to say that all acts of Dutch public protest oppose the poldermodel. On the contrary, many public demonstrations are often used as starting point for new negotiations. Symbolic was, for instance, the meeting of Prime Minister Mark Rutte with the so-called ‘yellow vests’ protesters, which according to one of the attendees, led to ‘a little bit of hope.’ By focussing on conversation, not conflict, protests can thus be de-escalated. Still, famous Dutch historian and terrorism expert Beatrice de Graaf rejects the view that riots and mass protests are uncharacteristic of Dutch culture and society. Instead she argues that the Dutch have a long history of public protests that escalate into riots. Famous is the ‘eel riot’ (palingoproer) that occurred in Amsterdam in 1886. After a group of people played the forbidden game of ‘eel pulling’ as an act of protest (palingtrekken, a game in which people had to pull an eel from a rope while in a boat), the police intervened. This escalated into a riot during which twenty-five people died. There are even cases in which public protest does not proceed the riot. The Project X riots in Haren, 2012 are such an example. These riots started after a sixteen-year-old girl’s Facebook birthday invitation was accidentally shared with thousands of people. In response, many flocked to the small town, intending to cause significant damage. These examples show that the Curfew Riots might not be so ‘un-Dutch’ as some claim.

De Graaf, however, argues that the recent curfew riots can be separated from previous riots because they had a strong political motive. This is unique since the last significant riots (partially) driven by a political reason were the squatters’ riots (krakersrellen) in the 70s and 80s. However, whilst these past riots were predominantly supported by the political left, the recent curfew riots of the 2020s saw support from the (extreme) right. The leader of the right-wing populist party Forum voor Democratie, Thierry Baudet, called upon the people to ‘resist’ the curfew. Although he disapproved of the violence, many politicians and scholars claimed that he was guilty of sedition. Some went as far as to compare Baudet’s statements to the speech Donald Trump held before the storming of the Capitol. According to many, Baudet’s words showed no intention of de-escalating the violence. The political motive of the attacks can also be derived from the targets of the rioters. Although many rioters looted local supermarkets and tobacco stores, hospitals and train stations were also attacked. In the town of Urk, protesters went as far as to burn a COVID-19 test location to the ground. According to Dutch sociologists, attacking these governmental institutions symbolises a direct and violent attack against the Dutch government.

The question arises then, do these political riots represent the beginning of the end for the Dutch culture of tolerance and compromise? Is the ‘poldermodel’ on its way out? Any answer cannot realistically be garnered from one act of deviancy, as it would be wrong to dismiss years of faith in these norms and values. However, it might be time for the Dutch to look in the mirror and recognise that the perception of Dutch tolerance does not match reality. In short, the Dutch are not as tolerant as they always claim to be.

The Dutch can prevent their precious value of tolerance from going downhill. To do so, the deeper sociological causes of the riots must be comprehended. Shortly after the riots occurred, Dutch Prime Minister Mark Rutte referred to the rioters as ‘scum’ that need to be locked away, preferring to contain the problem rather than discuss the causes of it. Of course, those who committed crimes need to face justice. However, according to sociological experts, Covid-19 only acted as the catalyst of the riots. They believe a research committee should investigate the real motivations, which are likely to be much more complex, systemic, and diverse. Neglecting the underlying causes of the rioters’ behaviour will not help to prevent future riots. Therefore, the Dutch need to continue ‘poldering’ with those they disagree with to prevent people from abandoning dialogue and resorting to violent forms of protest. The poldermodel, just like the polders themselves, is essential to Dutch society. Without polders, the country would not exist.

Chinese cyber coercion in the Asia-Pacific? Recent cyber operations in South Korea, Hong Kong, and India.

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Photo by Markus Spiske on Unsplash

Writings on Chinese cyber operations tend to focus on cyber espionage and the stealing of state secrets for China’s military modernisation. Comparatively in discussions of cyber operations, cyber coercion and Chinese cyber coercion are infrequently mentioned. This has to do with the ambiguity surrounding the definition of cyber coercion and the challenges of attribution.

Chinese cyber coercion is understood as a subset of what is known as weishe. Weishe is, in direct English translation, understood as “deterrence”, but is conceptually understood as a combination of compellence and deterrence. In theory, cyber coercion thus operates by compelling actors through cyber operations to produce an effect called deterrence wherein actors are deterred from decisions that are harmful to China’s interest. This role of compellence in cyber deterrence is made clearer when contrasted to the cyber deterrence strategies discussed so far in the United States and the United Kingdom. The use of cyber deterrence in the respective countries appears mostly in reference to a retaliation to a cyber-attack or in building domestic resilience to make an attack costly. In contrast, in the Chinese context, compellence and deterrence are one, the role of compellence is encouraged, and a cyber-attack does not seem to be a prerequisite to the use of cyber deterrence.

The theoretical understanding of weishe, however, is imperfect in practice. Whether deterrence is truly a component of weishe is subject to disagreement and is debated amongst Chinese analysts. If this is the case, then what lens should be used to analyse potential Chinese cyber coercion?

Observed practice of cyber coercion may be a more helpful lens than its theoretical counterpart. Observed practice can include the combination of vague threats, an implied actor, and an implicit desired behaviour. In a greater layer of complexity, consistency across the elements’ contents is not necessary. For instance, cyber coercion may include explicit threats, an implied actor, and an explicit desired behaviour. Therefore, observed practice captures a more detailed variation of what is understood as cyber coercion—something which is illustrated in the following three cases.

The cyberattacks against South Korea in 2017 illustrate one of the clearer cases of Chinese cyber-coercion, specifically cyber-enabled economic coercion. It also demonstrates the use of cyber deterrence to deter a country from choosing a political decision that is judged as harmful to China’s security. On February 7, 2016, officials from the United States and South Korea announced discussions on deploying Terminal High Altitude Area Defence missile defence system (THAAD). Beijing, however, disapproved of the X-band AN/TYP-2 band radar system which would allow for approximately a 3,000 miles detection range. This would mean potential US military monitoring of activity in China and the undermining of China’s nuclear deterrence.

In correspondence to the announcement of THAAD, there were reported increases in cyber intrusions. In the first half of 2017, there were over 6,000 cyber intrusions from China against the South Korean Foreign Ministry’s servers which was an increase from the 4,600 in 2016. Furthermore, Lotte Group, a South Korean-Japanese conglomerate was also attacked. Chinese internet protocol addresses took parts of Lotte Group’s storefront offline for several days, and Chinese e-commerce sites stopped co-operation with Lotte. This has been connected to Lotte Group permitting the South Korean government to use its golf course to deploy THAAD. South Korea did end up agreeing to limitations on THAAD, but it is difficult to say whether this was uniquely due to the cyber impacts because of the presence of other coercive levers. For instance, the Chinese government shut nearly all of Lotte’s physical stores in China. Cyber coercion, however, does signal great displeasure, and the intentions can be perceived as the use of compellence to deter further plans regarding THAAD.

Whilst the THAAD case outlines more clearly what happened and who the suspect is, other potential cases do not. Cyber operations in Hong Kong and India demonstrate cases of an explicit threat, an implied desire, and an implied actor.

Over the course of Xi Jinping’s rule, a tighter grip has been imposed on Hong Kong and protests have become more dangerous to participate in. Joshua Wong and Agnes Chow, who were the faces of Hong Kong’s protests against the Chinese Communist Party’s grip, are now imprisoned. The 2019-2020 Anti-Extradition Law Amendment Bill Movement, which was a series of movements against the Extradition Bill, coincided with the emergence of HKLeaks—a doxing website which appeared in late August 2019. The website doxes anti-government protestors, revealing people’s personal identifiable information (PII) such as headshot, social media handles, phone numbers and their misdeeds. The threat is explicit in that it threatens an individual’s privacy and makes the struggle for a freer Hong Kong even more costly. There have even been instances of malicious targeting. In one case, a doxed female reporter from Apple Daily, a Hong Kong tabloid known to criticise the Chinese Communist Party, started receiving threatening calls.

The argument that China is behind this is difficult to build, although there are very subtle implications behind HKLeaks that tie it to state-sponsored actors and potentially to the Chinese state. Aside from China’s interest in Hong Kong, looking at who or what HKLeaks is connected to is informative. HKLeaks has been linked to social media accounts similar to those taken down for being fake accounts linked to state-backed actors, which were also used as a tactic in disinformation campaigns against Taiwan. Some information of who the state could be is found in anecdotal evidence. According to an alleged victim of HKLeaks, they gave a “fake address I’ve never given to anyone” to Chinese police at the Hong-Kong and China border when returning from a business trip from mainland China. His address afterwards appeared on HKLeaks. Whilst the link between cause and effect is unclear, these disparate points of evidence could arguably form a weakly implied Chinese state as actor.

HKLeaks is also positively viewed and engaged by the Chinese state. For instance, the official Weibo account of China’s state-owned TV network, “published a video showcasing the HKLeaks website, and urged followers to ‘act together’ and ‘tear off the masks of the rioters’”. This post was then shared by “the Weibo accounts of local Chinese police, local media outlets, branches of Chinese Communist Youth League, and others.” Again, the actor cannot be established, but there is certainly a perception of an implied actor, an implied (or explicit, depending on one’s perception) desire to stop the protests and the threat of the violation of privacy and potential harm to the individual. This arguably forms a cyber coercion, rendered perhaps more threatening by the ambiguity on how members are being doxed and by not knowing the exact actor.

The case of the Mumbai power outage in October 2020 is a similar case where there is implied Chinese involvement. However, connections to the Chinese state around this topic is slightly clearer and less speculative. Speculation of China’s involvement is found across Foreign Affairs, NY Times, and The Diplomat, and domestically amongst Indian officials. The main source of information, however, is from a report by Recorded Future, a private cybersecurity company. On February 28 2021, Recorded Future published a report which demonstrated a connection between Red Echo, a Chinese state-sponsored group, and the installation of malware into civilian infrastructure such as “electric power organisations, seaports, and railways.” This cyber intrusion is thought to connect with the border conflict occurring at the time and has led to speculation about the connection to the Mumbai power outage. According to retired cyber expert Lt. Gen. D.S. Hooda, the power outage has acted as a signal from China to indicate “that we can and we have the capability to do this in times of a crisis.” Such a signal draws parallel to the cyber intrusions concerning South Korea and THAAD.

All three cases demonstrate the inherent limitations in analysing cyber coercion (as deterrence through compellence.) Even if China is implied from political context and from malware, building a case to clearly identify the Chinese State’s direct involvement is difficult to build without clear attribution. Nevertheless, if China is definitively involved, the utility of being an implied actor may be helpful with information operations elsewhere wherein appearing benign is used to gather support of the country. The case of Mumbai and South Korea also bring up interesting questions for compellence and deterrence, with China potentially being seen to blur the two. Cyber coercion overall remains somewhat enigmatic. The ambiguity is likely advantageous for the actor(s) behind the acts of cyber coercion. Ambiguity helps reduce chances of liability, which permits for a more peaceful (less conflict inducing) approach to manipulating and shaping another state to one’s desires.

The child soldier brought to justice

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Barlonyo, site of a massacre in Uganda in 2004. Photo Credit: Roberto Maldeno, licensed with CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

WARNING: Some details in this article may cause upset.

On February 4th, 2021, former child soldier Dominic Ongwen of Uganda was convicted of 61 charges of crimes against humanity and war crimes at the International Criminal Court (ICC) in the Hague. At the time the warrant for his arrest was issued in 2005 it was alleged he was the commander of the Sinia Brigade of the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA). This long and arduous case detailed some of the most heinous crimes imaginable.

However, Ongwen was only a child when he was the victim of a grave crime himself. Walking to school in 1987 or 1988, he was abducted by members of the LRA. It is believed he was in his very early teenage years, or possibly younger when this occurred. Shortly after his abduction, Ongwen and three other abductees tried to escape but were recaptured. As a warning to others and punishment for his waywardness, Ongwen was forced to skin alive one of the other escapees. This act of savagery initiated Ongwen into the LRA and was the introductory action that led to his spiral into one of the most ruthless individuals on earth, committing crimes that would include ordering the boys and men under his command to ‘kill, cook and eat’ civilians.

Ongwen, also known as ‘The White Ant’, rose rapidly through the ranks, becoming a brigade commander in his late 20s. He was considered skilled during his raids of the countryside, destroying villages and abducting more children ripe for indoctrination and arms training. He was considered adept in battle, commanding his troops in such a way that led to few casualties among his men when the battles concluded. Ongwen cemented his position high in the ranks of the LRA because of his innate abilities.

A reading of court records from the ICC details grotesque crimes including, amongst them, the forced marriage, rape, or both of girls and women, forced pregnancy, sexual enslavement and torture. For example, the testimony of witness P-226 at the trial describes a girl of seven years old being abducted by Ongwen’s unit. She was forced to perform domestic duties for Ongwen and at the age of ten she was raped by him for the first time. Some time later, she became one of his so-called ‘wives’ and was raped repeatedly until her eventual escape in 2003. Witness P-226 testified that shortly before her escape, Ongwen forced her to beat to death a Ugandan People’s Defence Forces (UPDF) soldier whom he had captured during a raid in Northern Uganda.

The true extent of Ongwen’s crimes will never be fully known. But it does lead one to wonder, was he no more than a victim himself, abducted as a child, forced to commit abominable crimes for fear that these same crimes would be committed against him? There is no doubt that reading Ongwen’s back story challenges the often oversimplified perceptions people have of a war criminal.

As a child when he was abducted, Ongwen witnessed a monstrous act, was forced to take part in others, and suffered terribly during his early years in the LRA, under constant threat of punishment. As with other members of the LRA he, still young, was subjected to indoctrination and training. This could be perceived at a fundamental level as his survival instinct came to the fore - kill or be killed.

Court records show that some of the psychiatric expert witnesses at his trial believed he was suffering from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), Dissociative Identity Disorder, and Multiple Personality Disorder amongst others. Ongwen himself claimed he was the victim of atrocities and pleaded innocent to all 70 charges laid before him at the ICC. Relatives and friends in his home in Uganda believed that, in fact, it was their President, Yoweri Museveni, who was to blame, given his responsibility for all citizens under his care, most notably children.

As Prosecutor Fatou Bensouda put it in her opening statement at Ongwen’s trial ‘The reality is that cruel men can do kind things and kind men can be cruel. A hundred percent consistency is a rare thing’. This is true for all of us, all the time. Just because someone had a hard or brutal upbringing does not and should not absolve someone of their crimes. Cases along these lines where the perpetrator was a victim themselves are seen in lower and higher courts nationally, as well as internationally. The victim who then victimised is not a new phenomenon and will appear again. However, it should never be used as justification for crimes, especially, as in this case, of the gravest nature.

Last February 4th, Dominic Ongwen was found guilty of 61 of 70 charges of war crimes and crimes against humanity, all committed within less than a 4-year timeframe. The verdict may be appealed by Ongwen’s defence team up to May 21st 2021. It remains to be seen whether Ongwen will mount a challenge. Whilst we wait, the verdict in the original case must give some level of comfort to the countless victims of Ongwen’s and the LRA’s crimes. At another level, it can be seen as cold comfort to the countless other victims of the LRA and Dominic Ongwen, as much more needs to be done within the communities of Northern Ugandan and its environs who suffered the most at their hands.