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Sierra Leone’s Revolutionary United Front and its Violence: Liberia’s Charles Taylor, Colonial Legacies, and Oppressive Rule

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by Edit Kruk

“The Slaughterhouse” where rebel civil war victims were butchered. Kailahun, eastern Sierra Leone, pictured on 23 April 2012 (Image credit: Reuters/Finbarr O’Reilly)

Proxy warfare and warlord politics in the African region, symptomatic of longstanding colonial legacies, play out in states that are on the brink of collapse and where the state leader, desperate to preserve a grasp on power, will privatise security in exchange for natural resources whilst neglecting other essential functions of the state. This article will argue that under the conditions of proxy warfare and warlord patronage, the Civil War that raged in Sierra Leone between 1991 and 2002 can be linked to the figure of Charles Taylor, a Liberian warlord financed by the trade of illicit blood diamonds.

In March of 1991, a group of rebels known as the Revolutionary United Front (RUF) crossed the Liberian border and entered the Kailahun District in neighbouring Sierra Leone. This action initiated a civil war that lasted over a decade, displacing two million people. Its body count of 75,000 and another 20,000 mutilated renders it one of the most violent conflicts in history. As a force, the RUF specialised in the hacking of limbs and tongues, rape, and the wide use of child soldiers (with estimates of recruited children under the age of 14 being around 10,000). The faction was organised by Foday Sankoh, who met Taylor at an insurgency training camp in Libya. Both warlords shared a keen interest in Pan-Africanism—a movement that promoted a politically unified Africa and criticised the neo-colonial regime—which formed the backbone of the RUF’s ideology.

During the Sierra Leone Civil War, Sankoh received resources, arms and troops from Taylor in return for a physical extension to the Liberian Civil War (1989-96). Even though Charles Taylor was most commonly known for initiating the first Liberian Civil War in an attempt to liberate the state from the fraudulent and corrupt government of Samuel Doe, the connection between Taylor and the Sierra Leone Civil War was indisputable. The warlord’s interest in the region was as early as the 1980s as indicated by his request to Joseph Momoh (President of Sierra Leone during 1985-1992) to use Sierra Leone as a launchpad for his rebellion, but Momoh refused. Taylor’s warlordism solidified as a result of Momoh harbouring Nigerian forces (ECOMOG) that intervened in Liberia in 1990 and in so doing posed a direct challenge to Taylor’s control of the region. Therefore, through the provision of leadership and weapons to the RUF, Taylor crafted the neighbouring state’s instability to his advantage, effectively making it his proxy.

These signposts of Taylor’s influence with the RUF are due an analysis, paying special attention to the ways it shaped strategical decisions and terror tactics. Whilst Taylor was never in effective command of the RUF he was found guilty for the sponsorship of the faction and by default the abetting of the rebellion. However, between 1992-96, the RUF was forced to retreat into the bush and turn to guerrilla warfare, thereby increasing their use of terror to compensate for their lack of adequate equipment. The decline of the faction’s military sophistication came as a result of Taylor no longer sending sufficient resources, a result of a revolt in Liberia which blocked the RUF’s main feeding line. Whilst there was a sufficient link between Taylor and the RUF during the conflict, a deeper structural crisis was already harbouring further violence. This article will study this development through the analysis of the socio-political environment as a product of colonialism and an oppressive regime.

Colonial Legacies

The violent behaviour of Sierra Leone’s rebels becomes less reprehensible when perceived as a means of rebellion against years of colonial rule, rather than a tool of proxy warfare. In 1787, Sierra Leone was established as a settlement for freed slaves and by 1896 it was proclaimed a British protectorate. Creole people, upon their arrival, dominated the civil service employment sector which forced the indigenous population to the periphery of the state, creating the blueprint for a two-class society. The colonial suzerainty of the state can be criticised for embedding a weak bureaucracy and neglecting the local dynamics which divided Sierra Leone into chiefdoms, thereby decentralising the state and fuelling inter-ethnic rivalry by elevating the status of freed slaves above the Temne and Mendi people which made up sixty per cent of the local population. Unsurprisingly, the resulting two-class society and a raging welfare gap were carried into the post-independence period and, thus, an environment predisposed to patrimonialism emerged. Marginalisation and subsequent frustration amongst the youth of Sierra Leone manifested as hypo-aggressive tactics and was symptomatic of colonial legacies.

The feeling of hopelessness that accompanied the youth living in the harsh environment of Sierra Leone was tactically encouraged to manifest as acts of aggression by the RUF leadership. Indeed, the youths’ ideological barrenness when coupled with RUF leaders taking advantage of their lack of knowledge, through the spread of disinformation, was able to fuel drug use, removing their ability to consent, and, ultimately, dehumanising them. Moreover, the extreme violence deployed by the RUF was, in fact, a reflection of a deeper structural crisis of youth and modernity which were facilitated by the removal of Cold War constraints. Subsequently, whilst Taylor’s link to RUF attributes for some of the violent behaviour, colonial grievances set the conditions for the successful appropriation of long-standing local frustrations by warlords, to fulfil their agenda, and thereby create proxies. The Sierra Leonean rebel faction was able to augment considerable support from areas that failed to be emancipated from domestic slavery, itself remnants from the project of decolonisation. However, whilst historical grievances enabled mobilisation, they also proved unsustainable as the violence grew more acute and made the faction an unpopular one.

Oppressive Rule

Siaka Probyn Stevens, leading Sierre Leone from 1967 to 1985, oversaw a regime of aggressive policing that propelled frustration amongst the marginalised population and consequent outbursts of violence. By 1978, Stevens and his All People’s Congress (APC) were able to consolidate one-party rule, that resembled a dictatorship characterised by brutality and totalitarianism. In particular, Stevens closed railway networks that connected the North and the South East of the country in an attempt to prevent civilians from voting against the APC and passed the Killer Bill in 1980 which removed all media outlets other than those that were state-owned. These draconian measures granted Stevens control of the political discourse. Due to the historical context, patrimonialism thrived and Stevens’ rule was defined by a disparity in the dissemination of scarce resources, nepotism, and the subsequent rise of a shadow state.

Resentment towards the oppressive government quickly resulted in the formation of an insurgent people’s army, which exponentially garnered support through its critique of the neo-colonial regime, promising a coup, and the subsequent return to a multiparty democracy. Whilst this argument is convincing in its attribution of the violence committed by the RUF, as a response to the oppressive rule, the same rationale does not account for 9 to 10-year-old children being victims of revenge. For this reason, it is essential to view colonial history, the political context, and potential actors as inseparable and as enabling each other, when attempting to analyse the roots of violence in the Sierra Leonean conflict. Nonetheless, an oppressive regime was a trigger for civilians and radical students to initiate a rebellion in which violence was treated as a vehicle of change. Means of terror have been commonly known to be a response to the collapse of patrimonialism, and symptomatic of new barbarism, both key features of an insurgent movement.

To conclude, Charles Taylor successfully instrumentalised the neighbouring conflict into proxy warfare, thereby perpetuating the Sierra Leonean conflict, while physically extending the Liberian domain. Taylor did not intend to carry the RUF to victory, as the cessation of a stronger connection in 1992 proves. Meanwhile, the violence did not discontinue. Colonial grievances ensured widespread fragmentation and a sense of hopelessness while oppression fostered a desire for change and revenge which ultimately came to fruition in the form of terror, a means of achieving the rebel’s goals. Sierra Leone resembled a microcosm of the conflict that pervaded the rest of the continent, indicating a need to draw stronger parallels between African states for a better understanding of eruptions of violence in the region.

Edit Kruk is a final year (BA) War Studies student with a keen interest in modern slavery and the African region. Narratives through art and the history of early modern Imperial Spain, have been life-long areas of fascination.

al-Shabaab’s Anatomy: A Study in Context

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by Leonardo Palma

15 May 2019

al-Shabaab militants during a training session near Chisimaio, Somalia (Al Jazeera)

Chronic instability in the Horn of Africa, with clear repercussions for Uganda, Sudan, Kenya, and Mozambique, has reinforced a process of aggregation within Islamists groups that include nationalist fringes, maritime pirates and organised crime groups. While this region is under the influence of al-Qa’ida in Eastern Africa (AQEA), the group that is the strongest cause of concern – both numerically and militarily – is al-Shabaab.

From the Islamic Courts to the Battle of Mogadishu

After the Somali state’s collapse in 1991 and the failure of UN Operation “Restore Hope”, the country fell prey to local warlords spurring overall disintegration. The result was the birth, especially in Mogadishu, of the so-called “Islamic Courts Union (ICU)”, which assumed certain administrative and social duties including the settling of civil lawsuits through a rigid application of Sha’ria. Through their private militias, the Courts were also able to handle public order and counter numerous warlords. In 2006, to make the system more efficient and coordinated, several Courts decided to meet in a Union called Midowga Maxkamadaha Isaamiga (ICU). Thanks to strong popular support, the Union was able to recapture Mogadishu after years of anarchy in an institutional vacuum. The Courts established some order, opened up both the harbour and the airport, enlarged the market of Bakara and extended their influence far beyond the city towards Baidoa. The latter was the seat of the Transitional Federal Government (TFG), a body born in 2004 after the dissolution of the National Transitional Government (NTG). At that time, the Union’s project of renewal included the introduction of Sha’ria as source of law, but Somalia’s highly stratified tribal system made that almost impossible. Furthermore, the Intergovernmental Authority for Development (IAD), created in 1986 by neighbouring countries, kept supporting the Baidoa transitional government, suggesting that the neighbours were – at least – suspicious if not worried about the birth of an Islamic State in Somalia.

al-Shabaab fighters under the black banner (The Independent)

In December 2006, the TFG, militarily supported by Ethiopia, promoted a campaign against Islamic Courts rule. Within a few weeks, the TFG managed to regain control of the city, marginalising the ICU until its complete and utter defeat. It was during those chaotic days that, inside the crumbling ICU, the al-Shabaab movement was born[1]. Previously a minority Islamist group that involved youth inside the Courts, al-Shabaab emerged as an autonomous organisation with wider aim and appeal. The leaders, most of whom were veterans of the Mogadishu battle against the old warlords, decided to carry on the war against the TFG while promoting a three-phase plan: overthrow the federal government, establish an Islamic State and drive the multinational African force (ANISOM) out of Somalia. The latter has led to a progressive tightening of attacks against Kenya, Ethiopia, and Mozambique, all of them responsible for the supply of military equipment to the TFG and for operations against the al-Shabaab training camps.

Evolution, adaptation and ideological clashes

Al-Shabaab evolved quickly, eventually pledging allegiance to and integrating with al-Qa’ida. On 26 January 2009, al-Shabaab insurgents besieged and conquered Baidoa, to the detriment of the weak, and former allied, President Sharif Ahmed[2]. In the following months, several suicide attacks in the cities of Belet Uen and Mogadishu caused the death of hundreds of students, civilians, officials and TFG cabinet members such as Interior Minister Omar Aden[3]. The group extended its control over the country between 2009 and 2011, including much of southern Somalia. In those areas, al-Shabaab reduced the import of low-price food to increase the local wheat production and shift wealth from urban centres to rural areas, where the application of the Sha’ria was less problematic. Over time, al-Shabaab also changed its mind about maritime piracy in the Gulf of Aden. Indeed, the group realised that tolerating pirate activity would have had a huge impact over public opinion against the weak federal government. Nevertheless, following the loss of the Bakara market, and needing to secure financing, al-Shabaab started to engage in economic activities with the pirates, receiving money in return for the use of its territories as “sanctuary” for logistical needs and as routes for weapons and supplies.

In addition to engaging with pirates, its attempts to expand into Somaliland and Puntland shifted al-Shabaab’s ideology closer to that of AQAP (al-Qa’ida in the Arabian Peninsula) in Yemen. These new ties led to a divide within the group, since several local leaders and fighters were more rooted in a nationalistic view rather than in an international jihadist ideology[4]. This strife was worsened by the TFG and Kenya’s harsh repression, which weakened the widespread control that al-Shabaab had enjoyed over the coastal region and in the south.[5] Between 2011 and 2012, TFG forces, supported by Kenya reconquered Afgoi, Laanta Bur, Afmadù (a core asset for road connections) and Chisimaio. Indeed, it is during 2012 that the war between the TFG and al-Shabaab for the control of Somalia advanced: in February, through an online message, the Shabaab leader, Ali Zubeyr “Godane”, swore allegiance to Ayman al-Zawahiri, head of al-Qa’ida, thereby officially rendering al-Shabaab a branch of al-Qa’ida. Shortly thereafter, the TFG was disbanded and the Somali Federal Government (SFG) was sworn in, without settling the division between those who want a federal unitarian nation, and those who prefer a tribal federalism with wide administrative autonomies[6].

The group has been also accused of recruiting primary school pupils (Intelligence Briefs)

With the loss of Chisimao and Jubaland, al-Shabaab started to direct its activities towards the consolidation of its territorial control, widening its influence over Somaliland and Puntland and strengthening its asymmetrical terror strategy against Somalia’s neighbours. The carnage of Westgate Mall in 2013 and Garissa College in 2015 were painful manifestations of that strategy[7]. However, al-Shabaab’s menace has increased not only through its adherence to al-Qa’ida (which led, as a direct consequence, to the birth of an international cell named al-Muhajirun) but also through the worsening divide between the fringe controlled by the late Godame (killed in a US drone airstrike in 2014) and the nationalistic faction, tied to the spiritual guru Hassan Dahir Aweys and led by Mukhtar Robow. [8]Indeed, al-Qa’ida decided to replace Godame with Ibrahim al-Afghani in 2010. The strife led to a harsh confrontation until Aweys accepted to move with a private militia in Adado, under SFG control.

The decentralisation strategy beyond 2014 

The death of Godame in 2014 left a dangerous power vacuum which the group tried to fill with a strategy of operational decentralisation, following the path marked by al-Qa’ida[9]. That phase of uncertain transition was overcome by a new wave of terrorist attacks in the region. This, on the one hand, confirms the prediction that when a terrorist group is weakened, it tends to strike back to show its vitality. On the other hand, these attacks forced the US military to intensify its counterterrorism operations with airstrikes and special forces. In June 2016, a drone airstrike killed both Mohamud Dulyadeyn, mastermind of the Garissa attack, and Maalim Daoud, al-Shabaab’s intelligence chief. The organisation retaliated over he Summer with car bombings, armed assault, kidnapping and suicide bombers, causing several deaths and re-seizing territory.[10] After the death of an American soldier in a clandestine operation, the US resumed its bombing campaign and struck, from June to August 2017, in several provinces and regions, killing, among others, the regional commander Ali Jabal. According to US intelligence, he was the man behind the suicide attacks in Mogadishu

From late 2017, al-Shabaab has shown great resilience and capacity to adapt to SFG, US, and AMISOM counterterrorism efforts. Decentralising both its operational branches and leadership, has allowed the group to relieve the military and police pressure they have experienced in the last years. The continuation of terrorist attacks is proof that the movement is trying to show that it is still active although weakened. Furthermore, al-Shabaab is attempting to remain on a relentless offensive, thereby exacerbating regional tensions and stability. Regional cooperation, humanitarian assistance, advanced training for the Somali soldiers, selected counterterrorism operations to cut ties between AQAP, al-Shabaab and its sponsors are the only means to drain the territorial control that the group at present still enjoys.

Leonardo Palma attended the Italian Military Academy of Modena and graduated in Political Science and International Relations at Roma Tre University. He is a postgraduate visiting research student at the Department of War Studies, King’s College London.

[1] For a comprehensive historical account, see: Stig Jarle Hansen, Al-Shabaab in Somalia: The History and Ideology of a Militant Islamist Group, Oxford University Press, Oxford, 2013; but also James Fergusson, The World’s most dangerous place: Inside the Outlaw State of Somalia, De Capo Press, 2013.

[2] J. L. Anderson, Letter from Mogadishu, The Most Failed State, The New Yorker, December 14, 2009, p. 64, https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2009/12/14/the-most-failed-state.

[3] Three ministers killed in Somalia attack, Newvision.co.ug, December 3, 2009, https://web.archive.org/web/20100106162350/http://www.newvision.co.ug/D/8/12/703172

[4] Where in the World is Sheikh Aweys? Somalia Report, February 1, 2012, http://www.somaliareport.com/index.php/post/2675/Where_in_the_World_is_Sheikh_Aweys; and Somali observers: internal divisions widening within al-Shabaab, Sabahionline.com, 4 August 2012, http://sabahionline.com/en_GB/articles/hoa/articles/features/2012/04/05/feature-01; see also: Hansen (2013), Ibidem, p.103.

[5] Joint Communique – Operation Linda Nchi, Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Kenya, January 14, 2012; and Alex Ndegwa, Al Shabaab’s propaganda war, The Standard, 17 November 2011, https://www.standardmedia.co.ke/category/2000046627/n-a;

[6] Somalia: UN Envoy Says Inauguration of New Parliament in Somalia “Historic Moment”, Forum on China-Africa Cooperation, 21 August 2012, https://allafrica.com/stories/201208220474.html;

[7] Kenya al-Shabab attack: Security questions as Garissa dead mourned, BBC News, 3 April 2015, and Okari, Dennis, Westgate’s unanswered questions, BBC News, 22 September 2014.

[8] Nation’s army in new battles as advance resumes, Allafrica.com. November 17, 2011, https://allafrica.com/stories/201111180120.html; and Al-Shabaab Leader Admits Split, Somalia Report, 7 November 2012;

[9] On Al-Shabaab and Al-Qa’ida: Tricia Bacon, Daisy Muibu, Al–Qaeda and al-Shabaab: A Resilient Alliance, in Michael Keating, Matt Waldman, War and Peace in Somalia: National Grievances, Local Conflict and Al-Shabaab, Oxford, Oxford University Press, 2019, p. 391;

[10] Somalie: le retrait des troupes éthiopiennes lié à des «contraintes financières», RFI, 27 October 2016, http://www.rfi.fr/afrique/20161027-somalie-le-retrait-troupes-ethiopiennes-lie-contraintes-financieres .

[11]  US confirmed the death of al-Shabaab’s Ali Jabal, Fox News, 4 August 2017, https://www.foxnews.com/world/us-confirms-death-of-al-shabaab-terrorist-ali-jabal; and US troops call in airstrike after they come under fire in Somalia, CNN, 17 August 2017, https://edition.cnn.com/2017/08/17/politics/us-troops-somalia-airstrike/index.html.

Image source: https://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/africa/al-shabaab-somalia-ban-single-use-plastic-bags-terror-environment-livestock-a8428641.html 

The Difficulties of Reconciliation: The Case of South Sudan

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By Akshay Sevak

South Sudan soldiers (Credit Image: AP)

Reconciliation plays an important, if not understated, part in conflict and post-conflict settings, carrying the hopes and expectations of many. The term refers to a reinstatement of peaceful relations between individuals and communities previously in conflict.[i] However, “Reconciliation” lacks a universal definition, and by extension what is, and can, be expected of Reconciliation varies. As a result, it is easy to stretch the concept and assume that reconciliation will reinstate interpersonal and inter-community trust, address historical grievances, impose  moral accountability upon perpetrators, all whilst not alienating a nation’s different communities.

It is clearly highly ambitious, if not unrealistic, to expect a singular effort of reconciliation to achieve all these outcomes. Recognising that the process is somewhat Herculean is perhaps obvious; but what are the specific difficulties that the reconciliatory process might face? The case of reconciliation in South Sudan highlights some important pitfalls reconciliation efforts may face. Thus, this article invites and calls for a nuanced approach to reconciliatory approaches, which focus on the context within which violence has been experience and the specific victims who have faced post-conflict trauma.

The world’s youngest state has been embroiled in a civil war, between the Government of the Republic of South Sudan and the Sudan People’s Liberation Army – In Opposition (SPLA-IO), that began in December 2013. More specifically, the conflict erupted following political disagreements between President Salva-Kiir of the Dinka tribe and former Vice President Riek Machar of the Nuer tribe. High levels of ethnic, sexual and gender-based violence, as well as forced recruitment of child soldiers and civilian fatalities, have been tragically common features of the civil war thus far.[ii] Consequently, it is unsurprising that conflict trauma has been experienced across different levels of society. The widespread and seemingly indiscriminate nature of the violence has led to high levels of trauma being experienced both personally by individuals, and more broadly at the  community level, particularly following ethnic violence.[iii] As a result, South Sudan’s already weak national identity, not least due to its infancy, has been further weakened as different communities, particularly Dinka and Nuer, grow further apart from each other.[iv] In a nation with over 60 different ethnic identities,[v] such division poses a heady challenge for any reconciliatory effort.

In this scenario, the work of Daly and Sarkin, which outlines that reconciliation is often needed at the three mutually reinforcing levels of society upon which trauma is felt, is particularly instructive. [vi] Focusing on the impact of conflict-trauma upon the personal, community and national levels helps illuminate the specific reconciliatory needs of a society – and the inevitable difficulties of delivering on these. As outlined above, violence in South Sudan has led to high levels of personal trauma, alongside a deeply fractured sense of national unity. It may initially be assumed that a broad reconciliatory programme can be instituted to address these experiences in one fell swoop. However, the shortcomings of reconciliatory efforts in other national contexts demonstrate that this is generally not possible. Fostering a sense of national unity is often made much easier if there is a background of commonality between different communities, historical or otherwise, which can be relied upon in any attempt at national reconciliation.[vii] For example, faced with limited similarities between communities in post-Apartheid South Africa, the South African Truth and Reconciliation Commission tried to use a common history of human rights abuse under Apartheid as a common foil upon which both victims and abusers could share experiences.[viii] Such an approach necessarily leads to the creation of a “national story” which often will not be reflective of individual conflict experiences. Indeed, during the nation-wide “hearings” run by the Commission, this approach led many participants to feel as if the “national story” did not adequately resonate with their experiences. As noted by the residents of Duduza, whilst most of the victims in the community of the apartheid regime were committed to reconciliation, they were at the same time ‘not simply willing to move ahead as if nothing happened.’[ix]

When extrapolated onto the South-Sudanese context, the Commission’s approach certainly attracts sympathy. National unity in a fractured society cannot create itself, without a “guiding story” that is essentially centrally driven. South Sudan has fought two separate civil wars (1955-1972; 1983-2005) against the North (now Sudan) during which the primary binding factor between the discreet South Sudanese communities was a desire for independence from the North.[x] With independence granted in 2011, there has been a notable lack of a binding factor upon which national unity can be built. This notwithstanding, adopting a centralised reconciliatory approach to foster such unity does not afford individuals the necessary space to reconcile with personal traumas, and to essentially make sense of their personal perceptions of the violence. Worse still, such a centralised approach can lead to a general branding of one community as victims and the other as perpetrators; as was the case in the Rwandan experience.[xi]

The reaction to this conundrum may then be to adopt a reconciliatory approach that is not state-driven, but rather guided by civil society organisations (CSOs), as done in Northern Ireland. This approach relied upon a central fund from which different CSOs could draw resources to facilitate varying and decentralised reconciliatory programmes.[xii] While this has led to notable levels of personal and community reconciliation, with individuals and groups afforded time to formulate their own perception of the conflict[xiii], there is a notable lack of national reconciliation. Segregated housing and education are still prevalent within Northern Ireland.[xiv] Further, the Northern-Irish reconciliatory experience has heavily benefitted from the strong infrastructure, the established presence of CSOs and available funding in Northern Ireland. South Sudan, however, has a far weaker developmental foundation. Not only does the South Sudanese government not have a nation-wide monopoly on the use of force but less than 30% of the national road network is useable throughout the year, given the extreme weather conditions.[xv] This impedes the reach of security services and is a significant barrier to the inter-group contact between communities that is essential for reconciliation. Further, only 8% of households in rural areas (where 83% of the population resides[xvi]) own a mobile phone[xvii] and many communities are organised in a decentralised fashion, migrating each season on account of cattle grazing.[xviii] Any decentralised reconciliatory effort, then, may well serve to further separate discreet communities, and is unlikely to meaningfully contribute to national reconciliation.

This brief consideration of reconciliation in the South Sudanese context may well reveal a host of potentially inevitable problems. Yet it also reveals that “Reconciliation” is not a silver bullet for post-conflict societies. This should not discourage any reconciliatory effort. Rather, the analysis of reconciliation across different societal levels highlights that particularly in the South Sudanese context, reconciliatory efforts must be nuanced. They may often be unable to address the whole complexity of trauma experience. However, in a post-conflict scenario, the question of how to reconcile conflicting communities can easily illicit a template-based approach, drawing on successes from other national contexts. Rather, a frank and sober consideration of the specific difficulties and opportunities at hand  may better serve any reconciliatory effort.

 

Akshay Sevak is Trainee Solicitor, and recent graduate from the King’s College Department of War Studies where he studied on the Conflict, Security and Development Masters programme. His research interests include peacebuilding during and after civil wars, the nature of violence and atrocity within civil wars, and the Arab-Israeli peace process. His research focuses on the East African and Middle Eastern regions. 

Notes: 

[i] For example, Herbert Kelman (1999), ‘Transforming the relationship between former enemies: A social-Psychological Analysis,’ in R. L. Rothstein (ED) After the Peace: Resistance and Reconciliation. Boulder: Lynne Rienner; Aletta Norval (1999)., ‘Truth and Reconciliation: The Birth of the Present and the Re-Working of History.’ Journal of African Studies. Vol 25: pp 499-519; Daniel Bar-Tal (2000)., ‘From intractable conflict through conflict resolution to reconciliation: Psychological analysis. ‘Political Psychology. Vol 21: pp 351-365.

[ii] Human Rights Council, 23 February 2018, Report of the Commission on Human Rights in South Sudan, Thirty-seventh session, A/HRC/37/71. Accessed 12 March 2018. Available at https://reliefweb.int/sites/reliefweb.int/files/resources/A_HRC_37_71_0.pdf

[iii] Amnesty International, 2016., ‘South Sudan. “Our hearts have gone dark” The mental health impact of South Sudan’s conflict.’ Index number: AFR 65/3203/2016. Available at https://www.amnesty.org/en/documents/afr65/3203/2016/en/

[iv] See Hilde Johnson, South Sudan: The untold story – From Independence to Civil War. (IB Tauris and Co Ltd).

[v] United Nations Mission In South Sudan (2014)., ‘Conflict in South Sudan: A Human Rights Report.’ United Nations, p. 14. Available at https://reliefweb.int/report/south-sudan/conflict-south-sudan-human-rights-report

[vi] Erin Daly and Jeremy Sarkin (2007)., Reconciliation in Divided Societies: Finding Common Ground (UPen Press).

[vii] John Armstrong (1982), Nations before Nationalism. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press. p. 292-293.

[viii] Richard Wilson (2001)., The Politics of Truth and Reconciliation in South Africa (Cambridge University Press: Cambridge).  This was encapsulated by the driving notion of Ubuntu. Broadly defined this refers to one’s humanity and well-being being connected to the humanity and well-being of others: Cathy Bollaert, 15 February 2013, ‘Everyone’s a victim – the problem of Ubuntu.’ Language in Conflict. Accessed 10 March 2018. Available at http://www.languageinconflict.org/90-frontpage/136-everyone-s-a-victim-the-problem-of-ubuntu.html

[ix] Truth and Reconciliation Commission of South Africa (1998), volume 5, chapter 9, s. 130, p. 426.

[x] Wolfram Lacher (2012), ‘South Sudan: International state building and its limits.’ German Institute for International and Security Affairs. Berlin: Stiftung, Wissenschaft und Politik. p. 9

[xi] In this instance, blame for the Rwandan genocide was largely apportioned to Hutu communities through use of the gacaca courts in a state-driven and controlled reconciliatory process. See, Rene Lemarchand (2009), “The politics of memory in post-genocide Rwanda” in Phil Clarke and Zachary D. Kaufman, eds., After Genocide: Transitional Justice, Post Conflict Reconstruction and Reconciliation in Rwanda and Beyond. (Hurst & Company: London).

[xii] Nevin T. Aiken, (2010), ‘Learning to live together: Transitional justice and intergroup reconciliation in Northern Ireland.’ The International Journal of Transitional Justice. Vol 4: 2, pp: 166-188, p. 183-184.

[xiii] Miles Hewstone, Johanne Hughes and Ed Cairns, (2008). ‘Can contact promote better relations? Evidence from mixed and segregated areas of Belfast.’ Belfast: Office of the First Minister and Deputy First Minister.

[xiv] Miles Hewstone, E Cairns, A Voci, S Paolini (eds), (2005), Intergroup contact in a divided society: Challenging segregation in Northern Irelant. London: Psychology Press.

[xv] World Bank (2011), Project information development document: South Sudan rural roads project. Report No. AB6832. Washington: World Bank.

[xvi] UNDP (2017). ‘About South Sudan.’ UNDP in South Sudan. Available at http://www.ss.undp.org/content/south_sudan/en/home/countryinfo.html

[xvii] Southern Sudan Centre for Census, Statistics and Evaluation (2011). Key Indicators for Southern Sudan. Available at http://sitresources.worldbank.org/INSUDAN/Resources/Key-Indicators-SS.pdf

[xviii] Jonah Leff (2009), ‘Pastoralists at War: Violence and Security in the Kenya-Sudan-Uganda Border Region.’ International Journal of Conflict and Violence. Vol 3:2, pp 188-203.

 

 

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Strife Series on United Nations Peacekeeping, Part V – The Future of UN Peacekeeping Operations

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By Felix Manig

UN Unmanned/Unarmed Aerial Vehicle (UAV) is prepared for take-off (Credit Image: UN Dispatch)

The nature of conflict is changing and so must UN peace operations if they are to remain an indispensable and effective tool in promoting international peace and security. What then UN Secretary-General Ban Ki Moon stated in 2014 echoes even louder today, given the ever more politically complex and high-risk environments UN peacekeepers operate in. While there is no one-size-fits-all peace operation, adopting a number of priorities can help all UN missions to move toward necessary reform. The future peacekeeping architecture should build on strategic and regional partnerships, strengthen conflict prevention capacities and harness emerging technologies to effectively sustain peace in the twenty-first century.

 

Strategic and Regional Partnerships

 A key challenge for UN Peacekeeping Operations (UNPKOs) is to compel states with more advanced military capabilities and technical expertise to contribute more meaningfully to missions in the future. Perhaps the most promising path for this lies in building on the strategic partnership with the European Union (EU), which vowed to cooperate more closely with the UN on peacekeeping and crisis management. The EU is uniquely qualified to aid the UN in capacity building for the maintenance of international peace and security, especially in complex operations for which regular troop contributing countries are ill-equipped. In fact, EU member states collectively represent the largest financial contributor to UNPKOs and UN peace operations also address key EU foreign and security policy priorities in counterterrorism, the rule of law and promoting the role of women in peace and security. The initial results of increased policy coherence, joint training exercises and EU engagement in support of UN peacekeeping over the last years appear promising. In Mali, EU military and civilian support helped MINUSMA to strengthen local internal security forces. In the Central African Republic, the EU’s EUFOR RCA operation set the foundation for the later UN-led MINUSCA mission.

In Africa, where the UN currently conducts the majority of its peacekeeping missions, building on partnerships means strengthening collaboration with the African Union (AU) and other regional and sub-regional organisations such as ECOWAS or IGAD. While the UN already cooperates with the AU in conflict prevention, mediation and peacekeeping, simultaneous or complementary deployments by the UN and AU will likely feature more prominently in the future. These hybrid mandates can add important political capital to operations and prove valuable during peace negotiations, such as in the Central African Republic, where local and regional knowledge may be indispensable.

 

Strengthen Conflict Prevention

In his vision statement, Secretary-General António Guterres stressed his commitment to a “culture of prevention” to bring about peace, political solutions and sustainable development to crisis hotspots. One major strategy to promote stability and prevent conflict is to include more women in UN peacekeeping, both as security sector officials within operations and in critical decision-making bodies for conflict resolution. Passing UN Security Council resolution 1325 on women, peace and security was a historic and important step. However, the UN must act more decisively to build up women’s participation and turn the resolution’s pledges into a reality. Given that it is the responsibility of UN member states to commit peacekeeping personnel, the organisation should feature its gender mainstreaming strategy more prominently and boost the reach and responsibility of its Gender Advisers to encourage troop contributing countries to increase the share of female staff. Strong evidence shows that women’s participation in peace and security processes improves the safety of peacekeepers, leads to more successful radicalisation prevention programmes, and improves the economic recovery in conflict-affected regions. Perhaps most importantly, peace agreements in which women participated meaningfully are 35% more likely to last at least 15 years than agreements which were concluded by male-only signatories.

 

Harnessing Emerging Technologies 

The reform agenda introduced by the Secretary-General equally calls for scaling up the technological capabilities of UNPKOs to make peacekeepers more flexible and mobile. In 2015, an independent Expert Panel on Technology and Innovation found that many UN field operations were lacking the technological tools considered necessary by militaries and law enforcement agencies to operate effectively. The report also drew a direct connection between these deficiencies and the reluctance of developed countries to meaningfully contribute troops to existing operations.

An improved understanding of operating environments as well as the presence or intent of adversaries are key components for risk reduction in conflict. Harnessing emerging technologies such as unmanned aerial vehicles (UAVs) is one way to move into this direction. Unarmed UAVs were first used by the UN MONUSCO operation in December 2013, helping peacekeepers to improve their situational awareness, monitor migration movements and track armed groups in the mountainous terrain of the eastern Democratic Republic of Congo. Since then, camera and sensor-equipped UAVs have become increasingly common in other UNPKOs, including in Mali and the Central African Republic, and their use should be expanded to other operations as needed.

The UN should also push for more intelligence gathering and monitoring tools within UNPKOs of the future. From satellite reconnaissance to ground surveillance radars and acoustic or seismic sensors, the cost of such once exclusive technologies has now fallen so dramatically that even the small peacekeeping budget allows investment in them. The collection and analysis of data about movements, crime and conflict can then produce intelligence which in turn can be used to shorten warning and response times for peacekeepers on the ground. Systematic and data-driven monitoring and mapping of crises can also promote patterns and models to make the prevention of human rights abuses or cease-fire violations more efficient and cost-effective.

 

Looking Forward

 A meaningful implementation of the above recommendations depends, as always, on the necessary funding and political will of UN member states. Threats by the US administration to cut its share of the already meagre $6.8 billion peacekeeping budget, which is less than half of one per cent of world military expenditures, sends a troubling sign to multilateral efforts at maintaining peace and security. For UNPKOs, gaining the necessary political will largely depends on the strategic interests of P5 members in conflict regions. In this sense, geopolitical competition and the current stalemate at the UN Security Council around humanitarian crises such as in Syria or Yemen represent major challenges to the UN peacekeeping architecture.

However, the UN is not in an existential crisis. Since taking office, the Secretary-General has made reform a priority for the UN and the organisation is responding to the justifiable criticisms. The UN realised the changing nature of conflict and is in the process of adapting its prevention and peacekeeping missions to this new threat landscape. Although the UN may sometimes seem like a relic of the 20th century, it has the ability and necessary vision under its current leadership to evolve and remain irreplaceable for promoting international peace and security.

 

Felix Manig is a postgraduate in International Relations at King’s College London. He focuses on global governance, conflict resolution strategies, and cybersecurity. Outside of academia, he is Series Editor at Strife and writes for the Peacekeeping Project at the United Nations Association of Germany. You can follow him on Twitter @felix_manig

Image Source:  https://www.undispatch.com/un-learning-love-drones/

Generation Terrorists: The Politics of Youth and the Gangs of Freetown

by

By Dr Kieran Mitton 

A poster in Susan’s Bay calls on Sierra Leone’s youth to be peaceful during elections (Credit Image: Kieran Mitton)

Youth at Risk – Youth as Risk

On the evening of the 15th February, six leading presidential candidates for the Sierra Leone presidential elections took to the stage. Over three hours of a live broadcasted debate, each answered questions about their plans for the country. Seen by some as a milestone in Sierra Leone’s post-war political development, the following morning the capital Freetown was abuzz with talk about who had acquitted themselves, who had failed to impress, and what – if anything – this might mean for the election result on the 7thMarch. In the offices of a youth development organisation, staff enthusiastically discussed the event.

In an adjoining room, I met with their colleague Mohamed*, a man with decades of experience working in the city’s poorest informal communities. What did you think of the debate? I asked. Was it a sign that Sierra Leone’s political scene is moving towards serious discussion of policies, or as one report put it, ‘growing up’?

Mohamed smiled. Pointing to his colleagues next door, he replied: ‘Each person there is arguing about why their preferred candidate won the debate. What the candidate actually said, how they performed – it doesn’t matter.’ He went on to make a familiar point; voters put party, tribe and personal loyalties ahead of policies. Whilst certainly not new or unique to Sierra Leone, this he contended, meant such debates had little bearing on the electoral outcome. The promise of some candidates to provide free education, surely a positive development for the country’s youth, was just rhetoric, he concluded. In fact, ‘politicians keep the youth uninformed and uneducated so they can use them to their own advantage.’

In Sierra Leone’s post-conflict era, great stress has been placed on engaging young people, providing solutions to severe unemployment and lack of educational opportunities to ensure the country never again experiences civil war. The idea that it was a ‘youth crisis’ that precipitated conflict dominates academic analysis and was a key conclusion of the country’s Truth and Reconciliation Commission. This emphasis has entrenched a peacebuilding discourse that presents youth as both an at risk population – vulnerable to chronic poverty and exploitation of their grievances – as well as a risk – a potential source of violence, instability, or even renewed conflict. In its crudest form, this latter discourse is found in frequent characterisations of ‘idle’ and criminal youth in local media, where their economic hardship and violence is explained not so much by their circumstances as by their ‘bad’ character. Election campaigns, through rhetoric aimed at youth and through violence involving youth, have reinforced both. Mohamed’s scepticism towards political promises, and belief that politicians seek to exploit young people, is born of experience.

Recycled Rhetoric and Remobilisation

Successive elections since 2002 have promised much but delivered little tangible change for many young people.  Initial optimism that a new administration might bring transformation, or that political patrons’ offers of jobs in exchange for support would be honoured, has invariably given way to disillusionment and deepened cynicism. A bitter sense of betrayal pervades the stories of those who describe their past enlistment by ‘big men’. The ability to register this frustration at the ballot box is certainly valued – an important and too often overlooked contrast to pre-war Sierra Leone – but it underlines a fundamental problem of the country’s political landscape. Both major parties – the ruling All People’s Congress (APC) and the opposition Sierra Leone People’s Party (SLPP) – are seen as offering little deviation from politics as usual. The same old familiar faces of the establishment continue to dominate political life. And so, many of Sierra Leone’s youth believe they can change governments, but they cannot make governments change.

Violent clashes of past elections have done much to reinforce the ‘youth as risk’ discourse, reinvigorating tired tropes of idle youth and dangerous ex-combatants.  During 2007 elections, fighting between supporters of rival parties took place across the country, leading then SLPP President Tejan Kabbah to declare a state of emergency. Yet these incidents were not simply the boiling-over of pent-up frustration nor the wanton criminality of unemployed youth. In another sign of negative political continuity, parties and political patrons had actively courted – and importantly, been courted by – groups of youth and ex-combatants to act as security ‘taskforces.’ Incentives ranged from gifts of drink and cash to promises of jobs and education. Providing ‘security’ often equated to intimidating political opponents and interrupting rival rallies. In the years following, a small number of senior ex-combatants on the winning APC side had reaped the rewards of this bargain, but most others missed out.

In 2012, the situation was markedly different. In the run up, grave concerns were expressed as incidents of violence between rival party taskforces and youth groups continued to occur across the country. Much analysis warned of turmoil on a par with 2007, if not worse. Yet in the end the re-election of the APC’s President Ernest Bai Koroma was largely peaceful. Of encouragement was the role of civil society, including youth organisations, in actively campaigning against electoral violence. My interviews with ex-combatants also found a pronounced determination among some not to be ‘fooled’ again and drawn to violence on the back of false promises. That said, opportunities for their recruitment were comparatively scarce. The SLPP was wracked by splits and Koroma enjoyed strong support, winning over the 55 percent mark required to avoid a run-off vote. It is that second round that is associated with heightened violence, with the contest close and votes of minor parties up-for-grabs.

An APC poster in central Freetown thanks departing President Koroma on behalf of the young (Credit Image: Kieran Mitton)

2018 Elections and the Gangs of Freetown

In the years since 2012, the same challenges blighting youth mobility in Sierra Leone have not diminished. Official UN figures put youth unemployment and underemployment at 70%. A sense of weariness is detectable among many who held great optimism during Koroma’s first term. Whilst there has been visible infrastructural development, the poorest have felt little benefit. Hopes that mining profits might lead to economic transformation for the benefit of all have dissipated, and the response to the Ebola outbreak of 2014, no small challenge for any government, highlighted endemic problems of corruption and fraud against which Koroma had vowed to fight in 2007.

The vote on March 7th will see Koroma stand-down after serving the maximum two terms. For this reason alone, it will be significantly different to the 2012 ballot. But in a welcome shake-up, two new political parties have entered the fray. Former Vice-President Samuel Sam-Sumana leads the Coalition for Change (C4C). Sumana made international headlinesin March 2015 after seeking asylum in the US embassy following a fall-out with Koroma and the APC. He was subsequently sacked, a move which in November 2017 was ruled illegal by the ECOWAS Court of Justice. Sumana’s support-base is in Kono, a key swing district that could prove decisive.

Another new player is the National Grand Coalition (NDC) led by Kandeh Yumkella, a former UN Under-Secretary General. Having split from the SLPP, he remains firmly opposed to the APC and could also take votes from both major parties. The entry of these parties raises the prospect of a much closer contest than the last, and the common view among Sierra Leonean and international observers is that the election will go to a second round.

With the expectation of a run-off vote, fears arise of a repeat of past election violence. But here there is also an important change from previous campaigns. In the immediate post-war years, attention was firmly fixed on ex-combatants and the potentially devastating consequences of their mobilisation. As that generation has grown older, and judging from the last election, moved away from direct engagement in violence, a new generation of young marginal Sierra Leoneans has taken their place in the discourse of dangerous youth: gangs.

Referred to as cliques, gangs and youth street associations have a long history in Sierra Leone. However, police, youth activists, researchers, local communities and gangs themselves agree that they have grown in size and significance in recent years, and are becoming institutionalised.** As mention of ex-combatants and party taskforces wanes in media reporting, discussion of the ‘clique problem’ has increased.  In 2015, news of fatal gang-related stabbings and public discussion of crime and violence led the Attorney General and Minister of Justice to describe gang activity in Freetown as ‘domestic terrorism’ , demanding immediate attention by the security sector. That attention saw police offer rewards for information on gang leaders, and in 2017, the Minister of Defence took to the airwaves to advocate his personal view that the solution to rising gang violence was to implement the death penalty. As the elections have drawn closer, general fears over gangs have narrowed to one specific concern: that they may be used by politicians to attack opponents and intimidate voters.

A ‘Member of Blood’ gangster proudly displays his tattoo (Credit Image: Kieran Mitton)

To what extent are the gangs truly a threat in upcoming elections? My research has sought to better understand Sierra Leone’s cliques and their violence, focussing on Freetown though gangs are to be found across much of country. There is not space here for in-depth detail of gang organisation and activity, or the responses to it. Here I wish to briefly explore the specific issue of election violence drawing on recent interviews and time spent with three factions: the red-wearing Bloods or M.O.B. (Members of Blood); the blue-wearing Cent Coast Crips (CCC); and the black-wearing So-So Black. In Freetown, Bloods dominate the west, Crips the centre, and Black the east, though boundaries are fluid and sub-cliques diffuse. Based primarily (but not exclusively) in informal settlements or slums, members are identified by bandanas – locally ‘mufflers’ – in their respective colours. They hang-out in ghettos and street-corners, listening to music, drinking, smoking and dealing marijuana. They range from young teens to those in their mid-thirties. Contrary to some portrayals, they are not significantly connected to ex-combatant networks, and in many neighbourhoods there are no ex-combatants among them. This is unsurprising considering some were born after the war.

When it comes to violence, a main driver is inter-gang disputes – ‘beefs’ over colour. One gang-member I interviewed had recently been released from a year-long prison sentence for stabbing a rival who had ‘provoked’ him by walking into his territory wearing a red muffler. Other larger-scale incidents have taken place during music concerts and football matches where rival groups come face-to-face. Running ‘rampages’ of vandalism and scuffles have accompanied the movement of east side gangs through enemy territory in the west and centre.

A sign outside a popular gang hangout in Susan’s Bay prohibits wearing gang colours (Credit Image: Kieran Mitton)

Personal disputes, often over women, also lead to vendettas and cycles of revenge. Opportunistic robbery, particularly at night, is a source of income alongside dealing marijuana. The latter is a subsistence game and there does not appear to be substantial conflict over the trade or dealing spots. But the elections, perhaps, offer new opportunities.

In the last couple of years, gang members have described one faction or another as siding with a political party. They recount stories of large payments being paid to gangs by intermediaries of parties, with the implicit (and sometimes explicit) expectation they would in turn give their support and cause ‘trouble’ for their opponents. Individual political patrons are alleged to have used gifts of alcohol, cash and job opportunities – the old familiar promises offered to ex-combatants in the past – to bring them to their side. Substantiating these claims remains difficult, but they are stories repeated across Freetown and regularly hinted at in news articles. They came to the fore on 26th January in the middle of the city, during a rally linked to the nomination ceremony of the ruling APC party. Fights broke out between youth wielding machetes and knives, and at least one individual was fatally stabbed. Pro-SLPP and APC outlets accused each other of being behind the violence, before police announced that the perpetrators were in fact gang members.

Fifty-five gangsters were subsequently arrested, including an individual who had previously been described in interviews as an intermediary between the government and cliques. In discussing the incident, members of various factions told a similar story, though again it could not be substantiated. The intermediary, they claimed, acted as a go-between with the government to tackle gang violence, often dispersing large amounts of money to gang leaders from the safety of a central police station. Several gangsters expressed the view that in reality, these were political payments to secure support, rather than investments in peace. On the specific occasion of the rally, they claimed, one clique suspected this individual of withholding funds for himself and began remonstrating. The dispute escalated to violence when another gang came to his defence, leading to the killing. Following the arrests, a Freetown judge sentenced the fifty-five to either three months imprisonment or payment of a Le1000,000 fine (roughly $130USD). Rumours quickly circulated that the fine was paid, and according to one confidential informant, that the money came from the ruling party.

The details of the above incident remain disputed and unverified. Beyond the usual challenge of rumour substantiating for fact, in the charged political environment of the election campaign there are clear reasons for parties to implicate each other in abuses. Nevertheless, there is little doubt that some gang members are seeking to profit as hired muscle, and political patrons have likewise courted them to this end. These stories mirror the mobilisation of ex-combatants and youth in past elections. Now, it seems, a new generation is becoming part of this old problem. Solo, a gang captain in his early twenties, commented:

‘At this election time we see them [the politicians]. After this time, we won’t see them. When they need us, they are our friends. They come with rum, cider, they offer small money. They want us to vote for them, go to the rally, to fight their rivals. All the parties come to us.’

This returns us to the opening concern. Has Sierra Leone’s political system, and specifically its relationship with marginalised youth, changed significantly? From the perspective of gang members, it has not. Elections still represent to some a brief window of opportunity for personal advancement, but at the risk of committing violence that only deepens fears of dangerous youth and perpetuates a political relationship built on mutual exploitation and distrust. Sierra Leone’s past shows that violence in such a context may become not simply a mercenary act, but expressive rebellion and defiance against those who seek to prosper from it. Whilst so much focus has been given by peacebuilders to the DDR generation and the supposed dangers of unemployed ex-combatants, a younger generation born after the war faces the same hardships of chronic poverty, limited educational opportunities, and a destructive relationship with political leaders. The feared growing ‘gang problem’ in Freetown and across Sierra Leone cannot be understood or addressed in isolation from these hardships.

To end on a positive note, anti-violence campaigning from civil society groups and the determination of Sierra Leoneans to maintain peace remains unwavering. Despite popular concerns, to date gangs do not appear to have been mobilised to the same extent as taskforces and youth groups in the past. This offers hope that elections will pass peacefully, though few will be surprised if they do not. Whoever emerges victorious, they will have an opportunity to inject renewed energy into tackling the root causes of youth marginalisation. This is an endeavour that by definition must be sustained long after the campaign posters have been taken down. It is a matter first and foremost not of a youth crisis, nor even a gang problem. It is about changing the very practice of politics and governing itself. A major but critical challenge that begins at the very top.

*Some names have been changed to preserve anonymity.

** For this observation and insights into the nationwide activity of gangs I am grateful to Professor Ibrahim Abdullah.

 

This article has been republished on Strife Blog with the author’s permission. It was originally published on Mats Utas Blog http://bit.ly/2FfefyA

 

Dr. Kieran Mitton is a Senior Lecturer in International Relations, Research Director of the Conflict, Security & Development Research Group, and co-Chair of the Africa Research Group, at the Department of War Studies, King’s College London. He is developing a comparative research project – Youth at Risk/Youth as Risk: Global Responses to Urban Violence – that examines gang dynamics and interventions in Cape Town, Freetown, London, and Rio de Janeiro. He is the author of Rebels in a Rotten State: Understanding Atrocity in the Sierra Leonean Civil War . You can follow him on Twitter @kieranmitton

Images Source: all photos were taken by the author