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Feature – Tigray: A Potential Humanitarian Crisis

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by Philip Mayne

Militia from the Amhara border region with Tigray rides out to face the Tigray People’s Liberation Front (TPLF). Ethiopia, 9 November 2020 (Image credit: Reuters/Tiksa Negeri)

In 2018 the newly appointed Ethiopian Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed formally brought an end to the Ethiopia-Eritrean War. The armed conflict, fought between 1998 and 2000 following the invasion of Badme by Eritrean forces, killed around 80,000 people and resulted in nearly two decades of tension between the two countries. It was in 2019 that PM Abiy was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for bringing peace to Ethiopia. Less than a year later, in October 2020, Ethiopia faces a civil war between the Tigray People’s Liberation Front (TPLF) and Abiy’s government. Following a reported attack from Tigray regional forces, Abiy ordered a military offensive in the Tigray region on 4 November 2020. The conflict is quickly becoming a major security concern for the country and its neighbours in the Horn of Africa. As the violence increases, there are increasing signs of a potential humanitarian crisis and instability in the region. Hundreds have already been killed, both sides are claiming war crimes, and thousands of refugees are fleeing the country.

The source of the conflict

The TPLF dominated Ethiopian politics between 1991 and 2019 as part of the Ethiopian People’s Revolutionary Democratic Front (EPRDF). The EPRDF was made up of four parties each one representing each ethnic group in the country. Although all four parties were intended to have equal representation, the EPRDF was dominated by the TPLF, resulting in ethnic-based inequality and tensions. Following protests for reform, in 2019 Prime Minister Abiy merged former member parties of the EPRDF, and other ethnic parties that had been overlooked by the EPRDF, into the Prosperity Party (PP) in an attempt to have fairer representation in central government. However, the TPLF opposed the merger because they would lose their disproportionate influence, as Tigrayans only constitute six per cent of the population. The TPLF made a statement, claiming that the merging of the parties would be akin to bringing together “fire and hay”, and called for the public to oppose the reforms. Rising opposition to the government led to an increase in tensions between the TPLF and Abiy Ahmed.

In August 2020, landmark elections were meant to be held in Ethiopia; this was to be the Prosperity Party’s first electoral campaign. However, in March 2020 it was declared that all national and regional elections were to be postponed due to the coronavirus outbreak. Opposition groups questioned the decision, claiming that the prime minister was deliberately refusing to hold the elections. Tigray took the unilateral decision to hold regional elections in defiance of the governments’ demands on 8 September 2020. The Prime minister declared the election as illegal and compared them to the construction of shanties by ‘illegal dwellers.’ In October, the federal government began to withhold funds for social welfare programs in retaliation to the ‘illegal’ elections in Tigray.

(Image credit: VOA)

By November tensions between the government and the Tigray region had reached boiling point, and on 4 November Abiy ordered the military to enter the Tigray region, reportedly in response to an attack on government forces by the TPLF. Abiy warned Tigray’s leaders that there is no place for ‘criminal elements’ in Ethiopia, adding that they would ‘extract these criminal elements [from Tigray and] relaunch our country on a path to sustainable prosperity for all.’ The TPLF, however, see the use of troops as punishment for the September vote, and an act of aggression. Debretsion Gebremichael, President of the Tigray region, said: ‘what has been initiated against us is clearly a war, an invasion … this is a war we’re conducting to preserve our existence.’

The government declared a six-month state of emergency across the Tigray region on 5 November. The declaration grants the government the power to suspend political and democratic rights. It also allows for the government to impose curfews, searches without warrants, communications and transportation restrictions and the detention of any person or suspect that is taking part in illegal activities. Under these regulations, Prime Minister Abiy had cut all communication and transport links to the Tigray region.

A humanitarian disaster?

At the time of writing, Ethiopia appears to be on the brink of a potentially long and bloody civil war. The fighting is already believed to have claimed the lives of hundreds of people and fighting has spread across the region. Even with the government cutting off all media and communication with the Tigray region, there have already been reports of atrocities across the region. Amnesty International reported that a massacre occurred in Tigray on 9 November possibly killing hundreds. Amnesty International has been unable to establish who is responsible for the hacking to death of civilians on 9 November. However, witnesses claim that both have been killing civilians. If the situation worsens, there are concerns that this will result in a major humanitarian crisis. The UN has warned that “if the Tigray national (and) regional forces and Ethiopian Government forces continue down the path they are on, there is a risk this situation will spiral totally out of control”.

Not only are civilians at risk of being killed by violence, but because government forces have closed the roads to Tigray, aid agencies are struggling to reach the most vulnerable; prior to the conflict there were already 96,000 Eritrean refugees living in Tigray and 100,000 internally displaced people. Currently, the UN provides food for 600,000 people in Tigray and there have already been shortages of basic commodities such as flour. There have also been cuts to essential services such as electricity and water. If the conflict continues, the humanitarian situation in Ethiopia will continue to worsen.

In less than two weeks, the fighting in Tigray has resulted in at least 21,000 refugees fleeing the violence into Sudan. One border point, which can typically accommodate 300 refugees, is currently overwhelmed with 6,000 people. If the conflict continues, it is expected that potentially hundreds of thousands of people may flee the violence.

Prospects for de-escalation/improvement

At present, the future for Ethiopia looks bleak. The country is on the cusp of a major humanitarian crisis, akin to the suffering endured during Ethiopia’s civil war of the 1980s. The flow of refugees is putting pressure on to neighbouring countries, and the conflict seems to be worsening. On 13 November reports of troops firing into the Amhara region, an area that backs the Abiy government raises fears that the conflict could spread across more regions of the country. Today, some reports also claim that Tigrayan forces have fired into Eritrea, with the TPLF forces suggesting that Eritrean forces are supporting the Ethiopian government. Relations between the TPLF leaders and Isaias Afwerki, the ruler of Eritrea, have been poor for decades. Eritrean conscription, a call-up of retired Eritrean senior officers, and troop movements towards to border have recently worsened tensions between the TPLF and its northern neighbour. If the violence in Ethiopia cannot be abated, then the conflict has the potential to spill further into Eritrea, and potentially into powers across the Horn of Africa.

However, there are efforts that can help alleviate the humanitarian crisis. One of the main issues concerns the ability of aid to reach the most vulnerable. Every day without aid the thousands of vulnerable people in the region become more vulnerable as access to necessities is becoming increasingly harder. The UN is negotiating with both sides for humanitarian corridors to be opened, but as of yet, they are still unable to enter the region. The government must open the Tigray region to aid agencies to begin alleviating the suffering of the Ethiopian people. One of the major concerns for the UN is food insecurity in the region. Currently, the National Disaster Risk Reduction and Management Council says that it has enough resources to meet the needs of 300,000 people until January 2021, half of those that needed it before the conflict, and the Joint Emergency Operation Plan NGO says that it needs to restock in December 2020 to ensure it can continue to assist the population. Without a resupply of food, there are fears that hundreds of thousands of people will be left without access to food. The UN reports show a similar situation for medicine and emergency supplies.

The most pressing priority is bringing about a cessation of hostilities to stop the violence before the conflict escalates into a protracted civil war that could further destabilise the region. Analysts have argued that it is not too late to stop the war from spiralling out of control. Pressure must be applied to get both parties to agree to a ceasefire. The United Nations Secretary-General has called for “all stakeholders to take urgent steps to calm tensions in the country and to resolve challenges through an inclusive and peaceful dialogue”. But if more pressure is applied from parties within Ethiopia, its neighbours in the Horn of Africa, the African Union and abroad, then perhaps the parties may be brought to the negotiating table and to agree on a potential ceasefire. By stopping the fighting, opening the Tigray region, a humanitarian disaster could be averted.

The best-case scenario for Ethiopia would be for both the TPLF and the Abiy Government to agree to a ceasefire, both communication and transport links would be opened in Tigray allowing for aid to reach those who need it. The worst-case would be the escalation of violence, resulting in a catastrophic humanitarian disaster, the deaths of thousands of Ethiopians and potentially destabilise the region. The current circumstances indicate the worst-case scenario is more likely to become the reality, as Prime Minister Abiy said on 17 November that the chance for a ceasefire has expired, and the TPLF have reiterated that they will not back down. Therefore, there must be more international pressure on both parties to change their position and come to the negotiating table.

Philip Mayne is a final year PhD candidate at the University of Hull. He has a special interest in strategy, counterinsurgency, military ethics, military history, international security and relations. His thesis examines the relationship between military ethics and military effectiveness. Specifically, his work focuses on adherence to the Just War Tradition, and success in counterinsurgencies; through analysing the case studies of the Malayan Emergency, the Kenyan Emergency, the Algerian War and the Vietnam War. Philip has contributed to the Huffington Post and is an active member of the Hull University War Studies Research Group. Find him on Twitter @phil_mayne.

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/