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Feature – Climate Change, Conflict, and Children’s Rights Abuses: Syrian Refugees in Turkey

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by Chiara Scissa

In limbo in Lesbos: Doctors without Borders labelled the Mória Refugee Camp as the ‘worst refugee camp on earth’ (Image credit: Getty Images/AFP/F. Perrier)

Introduction

The world is becoming increasingly aware of the interconnections between climate change, human rights, and its implications on affected populations and countries. It is now widely recognised that climate change adversely impacts the right to life, property, and an adequate standard of living by hampering access to hygiene, water, and food but also adequate healthcare, among many basic necessities. This fact has been most visible during the Syrian Civil War that began in 2011.

According to the data of the Syrian Ministry of State for Environment Affairs and the World Bank, the annual temperature in Syria has increased at a rate of 0.8°C per century since the 1950s. This change is reflected in an increased frequency, length, and intensity of droughts and heatwaves. Decades of unsustainable agricultural policies, the consequent overexploitation of water and soil resources, coupled with the effects of climate change resulted in desertification, higher temperatures, and reduced precipitations. These developments dramatically impacted the agricultural industry, at that time representing twenty-five per cent of Syrian GDP.

Although in-depth research studies have so far not confirmed a causal link between climate change and conflicts, other scholars, such as Ingrid Boas, nevertheless stress that drought and water scarcity may be included among the complex and interlinked pressures that characterise the unrest in Syria. To make matters worse, water infrastructure there was consistently under attack. In a country already hit by drought, attacks on water networks cut services for weeks during the armed conflict, with millions of people suffering from long and deliberate interruptions to a water supply.

According to UNICEF, disruptions in Aleppo encompassed a deliberate forty-eight-day shutdown of a water treatment plant that served two million people. Indeed, the organisation  straightforwardly claimed ‘attacks on water and sanitation are attacks on children.’ Without safe water, sanitation, and hygiene (WASH), children’s health, nutrition, safety, and education are at risk. They are exposed to preventable diseases including diarrhoea, typhoid, cholera and polio which may potentially disrupt their early development if not treated on time. Children are also at risk of undernutrition and malnutrition, vulnerable to sexual violence and injury as they collect water.

The report continues by noting that children under fifteen are, on average, nearly three times more likely to die than adults from vector-borne diseases, such as diarrhoeal disease, related to unsafe water and sanitation than violence directly linked to conflict. As a matter of fact, seventy per cent of annual children’s death are attributable to diarrhoea, malaria, neonatal infection, pneumonia, preterm delivery, and the lack of oxygen at birth. For children under five, this probability increases more than twenty times.

With millions of refugees streaming into Europe since the onset of the war, Turkey, as Syria’s closest and ‘safest’ neighbour has been the focal point of this population movement. However, Turkey’s response to the refugees has been a human rights abomination, particularly when it comes to children and minors. This article will describe the steps Turkey has taken to undermine the human rights of Syrian children and why it should not be considered a safe third country.

Children’s rights abuses in Turkey

It has been estimated that due to the Syrian civil war, as of March 2019, one million Syrian children became orphans, 4.7 million children are in need of humanitarian assistance, and another 490,000 of said children are in hard-to-reach areas. Overall, six million Syrians are internally displaced, while another 5.6 million people have left their home country. Most of them fled to Turkey. In response, Turkey passed two foundational pieces of legislation in 2013. First, the Law on Foreigners and International Protection no. 6458, which entered into force in April 2014, and second, the Temporary Protection Regulation – TPR, in 2014. Given that Turkey is one among very few countries which still has the geographical limitation to the 1951 Convention on the Status of Refugees, Syrians and non-European asylum seekers may only be entitled to the weaker standards provided under the TPR.

As pointed out by several authors, temporary protection has a more limited scope than the refugee protection and, in non-compliance with its provisions, health and education services as well as access to social assistance and employment to Syrians are often not delivered. For instance, UNICEF stressed that the situation for refugee children in Turkey remains particularly challenging, given that around 400,000 Syrian children are still out of school and are therefore at likely risk of isolation, discrimination and exploitation. Of 4 million registered Syrians in Turkey, 3.6 million were awarded the TPR, including around 1.5 million children under 18, of which 532,000 are under 5 years of age.

To date, Ankara is yet established a comprehensive human rights framework. Nor does it provide for a specific law addressing (un)accompanied minors. However, under Article 3 of the TPR, (un)accompanied minors are persons with special needs, thus entitled to additional safeguards and priority access to rights and services, such as healthcare, psychosocial support, and rehabilitation. Pursuant to the Turkish Civil Code, unaccompanied minors shall be appointed with a legal guardian, a provision that the Asylum Information Database (AIDA) claims is not respected most of the time.

In this respect, it has been noted that lawyers in Ankara have witnessed difficulties, while in some cases appointed guardians had no qualification for that role. AIDA also noted the persistent coexistence of different procedures applying to the reception and guardianship of unaccompanied minors in Turkey, which gives rise to different standards of treatment. AIDA considers, for instance, that in 2019 the legal assessments of new guardians in Antakya have not been conducted carefully.

Additionally, although Turkey has ratified both the 1989 Convention on the Rights of the Child and the 2001 Council of Europe Convention on the Protection of Children against Exploitation and Abuses, Amnesty International claims that, between 2014 and 2018, Turkey has unlawfully deported Syrians to their home country, violating the principle of non-refoulement. According to such peremptory norm, States are not allowed to remove, deport or expel a person to a country where their life and liberty would be threatened, or where they would face torture, cruel, inhuman or degrading treatment or punishment and other irreparable harm.

This allegation has been also confirmed by Human Rights Watch and questions have been raised by Ambassador Tomáš Boček, Special Representative of the Secretary-General on migration and refugees of the Council of Europe, on the observance of its international obligations. Amnesty showed that episodes of deportation persisted respectively in July 2019 and May 2020. The victims are mostly men, but there is evidence of children and families deported. Moreover, Syrians at risk of deportation are often left without legal recourse or remedy to prevent their illegal removal, and the UNHCR does not have access to immigration removal centres, as also noted by the European Parliament.

Furthermore, Amnesty International, Save the Children, the European Council for Refugees and Exiles, and the Council of Europe accuse Turkey of unlawfully detaining Syrian asylum seekers. In 2017, there were 21 temporary accommodation centres for temporary protection beneficiaries. Some of these have turned into de facto detention centres for Syrians with insufficient food and dire conditions, especially for children. In practice, unaccompanied minors are kept in removal centres in border cities and a number of children begging or selling small objects in the street are detained in police stations, where they often receive documents cancelling their right to stay.

Children with their families are generally detained in removal centres where they are not granted education. For all these reasons, recently, the European Court of Human Rights found Turkey violating Article 3 ECHR (prohibition of torture), Article 5.4 ECHR (right to remedy), Article 5.1 ECHR (freedom of movement), and Article 13 ECHR (fair trial) in the case of detention pending expulsion of a mother and her 3 children, all Russian nationals, arrested for attempting to cross the Syrian border after entering Turkey.

Finally, another severe breach of children’s rights in Turkey concerns the employment of children under the age of 15, which remains a considerable problem in Turkey. The influx of refugees has led to a quickly growing number of Syrian children working especially in textile factories and agriculture. A 2020 Save the Children report finds that often families only pay smugglers for their children’s trip to Turkey. From there the children need to find jobs to continue their journey to Western Europe.

This particular pattern of emigration exposes them to exploitation, abuses, kidnapping, and detention by smugglers as well as by Turkish authorities. According to Save the Children, ‘out of 254 children interviewed in March 2019, almost thirty per cent worked in one of the transit countries before reaching Belgrade. Almost all of these children (97%) worked in Turkey. Based on the testimonies of those willing to provide this information, the prices of transferring migrants from the country of origin to the desired destination ranged from EUR 6,000 to over EUR 10,000’.

Conclusion

In light of the persistent violation of fundamental freedoms and human rights of Syrians and other non-European persons in need of international protection in general and of (un)accompanied minors in particular, the unfilled lack of a comprehensive human rights framework, and the increasing limitation to basic civil and political rights by the central Turkish government, it comes clear that Turkey cannot be considered anymore, if ever, as a safe third country, where international protection applicants may find guarantees of adequate protection standards.

Similarly, the heads of government and state of the EU Member States that in 2016 signed together with Turkey the so-called EU-Turkey Statement cannot shy away anymore from their international obligations and responsibilities. Neither Turkish President Erdoğan’s autocratic regime, nor the absence of a national human rights framework persuaded the EU to consider Turkey as an unsafe country for refugees and asylum seekers. On this behalf, President Erdoğan repeatedly threatened the EU to open the border with Greece as a way to convince the Union to financially support Turkey’s intervention in Syria. In March 2020, the EU refused to increase its financial aid to Ankara, claiming that EU Member States would not bow to President Erdoğan’s threats. A few days later, the Turkish President opened the gate and thousands of migrants stuck at the Turkish-Greek border to exit the country.

Ankara used migration to put pressure on a weak EU, unwilling to take on its responsibilities towards migratory challenges. The externalisation of actions to curb migration through informal agreements with unsafe non-EU countries, which unlawfully impedes people to leave their soil in exchange for financial and economic benefits, leads to human rights abuses, to breaches of international and EU law, and to extremely serious damages against the victims involved. Many scholars have also pointed out the high risk for the parties involved to violate the principle of non-refoulement, since the removal of asylum seekers from Greece to Turkey as the first country of asylum seems not to fulfil the requirement of sufficient and effective protection.

Such a human rights-breaching deal – that trapped over twelve thousand asylum seekers in the Moria refugee camp, which has a capacity to house two thousand – should end immediately. As long as EU Member States will continue to limit the access to international protection in their national territories and to add external barriers to stem migration flows, the Common European Asylum System cannot be more than empty words on the EU Official Journal.

Chiara Scissa is a PhD student in Law at the Sant’Anna School of Advanced Studies (Pisa, Italy) and Human Rights and Migrant Protection Focal Point at the United Nations Major Group for Children and Youth (UNMGCY). Her main research interests in migration and refugee studies include the impact of climate change on human rights and environmental migration. Email: chiara.scissa@santannapisa.it

Can a Tropical Bird Take the Jungles of Colombia out of the ‘Conflict Trap’?

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by Andrés Felipe Gómez González

The guianan cock-of-the-rock, endemic to the tropical rainforests of northern South America, abounds in the jungles of Guaviare. (Image credit: Almir Cândido de Almeida)

Well, not only the bird. A pink river, mysterious parietal paintings, and bizarre rock formations may also hold the key towards establishing peace in one of the most conflict-ridden areas of Colombia. In recent years, the people of northern Guaviare – ‘the door’ to the Amazon jungle in Southern Colombia – realised that these treasures, hidden deep in the jungle, can provide a better living than growing coca. However, this story is not just about a group of farmers turning their back on violence-fuelling illicit trade to embrace an alternative source of income; it is also a story of how to re-imagine a territory. Small-scale solutions lead the way to peaceful coexistence in conflict-affected areas.

The drug trade continues as one of the main sources of funding of the illegal armed groups in Colombia. Some regions have even seen an increase in production after the demobilisation of the Fuerzas Armadas Revolucionarias de Colombia (FARC)—Colombia’s biggest guerrilla group and the subsequent emergence of fragmented armed groups led by ex FARC warlords. This trend reinforces the idea that Colombia has fallen into what Collier & Sambanis coined as the ´conflict trap´ in their article ‘Understanding Civil War: A New Agenda’ (2002), a situation in which war tends to prolong itself by aggravating the political and economic conditions that caused the war. But Guaviare -once Colombia’s main coca producer region- tells a different story as the hectares with coca continues to drop and its inhabitants leave violence behind. Why is this happening? Although this article cannot cover all the possible explanations, it focuses on the lessons that the story of these farmers provides to policymakers looking at how to break the ‘conflict trap’ in other cases.

A window of opportunity in a land of trouble

Originally inhabited by the pre-Columbian Nukak indigenous group, Guaviare was one of the regions colonised during the Amazon rubber boom of the 1910s and 1940s. Many families migrated from the centre of the country, seeking fast revenue and adventure. Nevertheless, the ‘rubber fever’ ended quickly, leaving the new inhabitants of Guaviare alone in an immense rainforest difficult to conquer. A new era of colonisation came in the late XX Century with the boom of cocaine. The population of Guaviare grew exponentially as colonisers migrated from other impoverished regions attracted by the coca revenues.  Following the new wave of colonisers, this territory started growing almost thirty thousand hectares of coca per year.

Cave paintings of ‘Cerro Azul’ (Image credit: Author’s own, A.G.)

Without the strong presence of the State, the region fell into the hands of drug traffickers and the FARC guerrilla group. Under their presence, growing coca was not only about earning revenue but also a matter of survival. Those who refused to risked being hunted down by the new rulers of the territory. New generations grew up having to choose between growing coca – like their parents – or joining the FARC. According to Colombia’s Victims Unit, the conflict in Guaviare has had more than 93,000 victims since 1985, with more than 83,000 displaced and 6,612 dead. In just a couple of decades, the region had fallen into what Collier & Sambanis call the ´conflict trap´ as the political and economic outcomes of the conflict were aggravating it.

The river ‘Caño Sabana’ (Image credit: Author’s own, A.G.)

Several government-led efforts to break the relationship between coca and the communities failed, as forced eradication carried out by the Army caused serious collateral damage and aerial aspersion of glyphosate was suspended by a judicial order due to the potential risk on the health of the inhabitants. Additionally, the geographical location of Guaviare imposed legal, environmental, and economic restraints on the viability of other crops to replace coca. None of these crops could match the level of profit that coca provided. The introduction of cattle to the region has reduced the farmers’ dependence on coca by generating a decent source of income, but deforestation has caused more droughts and a loss of biodiversity that now threatens the stable income flow of the cattle-ranchers.

Fortunately, the signing of the peace treaty with FARC in 2016 opened new opportunities for Guaviare. The demobilisation of more than five hundred guerrilla fighters, as well as the government’s initiatives for the collective elaboration of local development plans, momentarily allowed the people of Guaviare to re-think their territory in ways they have not done before. Suddenly, the lush jungles that for decades hid the laboratories that produced cocaine, were seen as potential ecotourist attractions. Guaviare, which had been tagged as a ‘no go red zone,’ was now attracting birdwatchers, in the search of the Rupicola rupicola (the bird pictured above), and backpackers. Between 2016 and 2019, the arrival of passengers to the airport in Guaviare increased by 247%; and some of the operators of the main tourist attractions reported that the number of visitors had grown by at least ten times over the past few years.

However, not all guerrillas demobilised, and at least 150 men remained in arms in Guaviare when the rest of the FARC demobilised and regrouped into one of the so-called ‘dissident groups’. Since then, they have expanded their control over more territory in the area and continue to traffic drugs.  However, while cocaine production has increased in other Colombian regions under the control of other dissident groups and criminal organisations, the data from Guaviare offers a more optimistic vision as hectares with coca have dropped some fifty-four per cent between 2016 and 2019. This is where this little bird comes into play.

Re-thinking the jungle and the communities

Transitioning from coca to ecotourism has involved a deep paradigm shift for the communities in Guaviare. Most of the inhabitants saw the rainforest as an obstacle to progress, and thousands of hectares were chopped down to plant coca or to introduce cattle. But now, local leaders in Guaviare -particularly in the area of the ´Serranía de la Lindosa´- have taken action to promote more sustainable exploitation of the forests that were once under the control of the FARC. Former coca farmers from communities surrounding the emerging touristic hotspots have created cooperative associations and turned themselves into tourist guides. Their services include taking the tourists to look for the bird, to see the cave paintings, and to take a dip in the river where the plant Macarenia clavigera dyes the water pink. By creating this association, its members have been able to involve their community and assure that everyone benefits from the new trade.

´Don Segundo´ is in the process of turning his coca and cattle farm into an ecological reservation where a 27 metres-tall waterfall is the main tourist attraction. (Image credit: @mateoah)

In a joint effort with Colombian universities and NGOs, local leaders are trying to replicate their success in neighbouring communities. This positive spill-over effect is likely to reduce conflict in the area. It will also have positive implications for local environmental sustainability and reducing greenhouse emissions.  Farmers have learnt that conservation is an essential component of ecotourism, and universities are getting the chance to study the ecology of a previously inaccessible area of rainforest.

The local dissident group’s effort to reclaim the area to grow coca or take control of the booming tourism industry has not prospered: they now face an organised community that is more likely to resist and generate a sustainable income from the forests they used to chop down. For the moment, the efforts of the inhabitants of the ‘Serranía de la Lindosa’ are taking their region on the road towards a more stable peace by breaking with the illegal business that fuelled the worst tragedies of the past. Their enterprise is now creating a more optimistic future for the new generations that, otherwise, would have fallen in the hands of the guerrillas.

Lessons from Guaviare

The positive experience in Guaviare has caught the attention of international donors, think tanks, and journalists in the search for policies that allow Colombia to overcome decades of drug-related violence. Although these changes are still in the early stages, some lessons can be learnt about how to break a ‘conflict trap’, where a region is mired in persistent and entrenched violence:

  1. Local context matters: There is no ‘silver bullet’ in the fight against coca production. The Colombian government has failed to achieve a lasting reduction of hectares of coca through national policies like aerial aspersion. This case shows that the identification of small-scale opportunities in a local area in Northern Guaviare and the presence of potential ecotourist biodiverse hotspots- can be more successful in generating alternative income for farmers linked with coca production. Policymakers who ignore the local context will fail to implement the economic and political measures appropriate for that community and will miss the opportunity to break the ‘conflict trap’.
  2. Communities should be at the centre of the solution: While policymakers arriving from Bogota had failed to impose centrally designed crop substitution plans and convince farmers to drop out from coca cultivation, the direct relationship of local leaders with their communities has been a fundamental motivator of change. Efforts to eradicate coca that incorporate a bottom-up building perspective may be more successful.
  3. Sustainability as a key element: Previous efforts to substitute coca that only considered short-term monetary incentives (e.g., introducing crops that generate as much revenue to the farmers) were implicated in environmental damage. Although the current pandemic has caused tourist numbers to plummet temporarily, it is likely that ecotourism plans in Guaviare will be longer-lasting and generate a more stable income for former coca farmers than other non-sustainable businesses.

While the demobilisation of the FARC has not ended the drug trade or armed violence in Colombia, small experiences like this one in Guaviare offer a glimmer of hope. Local, small-scale initiatives such as in Guaviare, are bringing peace to communities that once suffered the burden of war. They are breaking the perverse incentives that fuelled conflict in their territories. However, the story is not over yet. The successful implementation of these farmers’ plans still requires overcoming several challenges that cannot be fully covered here. Additionally, this initiative by no means tackles all the causes of the Colombian armed conflict, some of which will require different types of interventions. However, it already offers valuable lessons for those concerned in breaking the ‘conflict trap’ in historically neglected territories.

Andrés Gómez, a PG student at King’s College London is currently reading for his MA in International Conflict Studies.

Strife Series on Climate Change and Conflict – Introduction

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by Gemma MacIntyre

Studies show a direct correlation between climate and violent conflict (Image credit: Image: Reuters/Amit Dave)

In recent decades, climate change has been recognised as an important international concern. Scientists and leaders worldwide agree that the pressure of increased temperatures on crop yields, natural capital, and water availability – and subsequent demand for already dwindling resources – is undoubtedly of detriment to global populations. In a recent IPCC report, it was concluded that a predicted 1.5-degree celsius of global warming could significantly impede efforts to achieve sustainable development goals: pushing more people into poverty, exacerbating inter-group equalities, and wreaking global economic disruption. Such acute warnings from scientists, combined with mounting pressure from environmental activists worldwide, has prompted multilateral efforts to curb carbon emissions.

As states have become more aware of the impact of climate change, so too have they come to analyse it from different perspectives. In doing so, an important consensus has emerged: that climate change is not merely an environmental concern; it is a human security challenge too, with the potential to aggravate societal grievances. Further, the impact of increased temperatures on already scarce resources, migration movements, and food security may affect both intra- and inter-state relations: with the capacity to fuel further conflict.

Still, the direct impacts of climate on international conflict and security remain somewhat hazy; and policies to address it, scarce. This is partially due to the empirical difficulties of measuring climate’s impact on violence. Associating casualties with conflict is, at the best of times, challenging: let alone when those causal factors – including changing temperatures, rising sea levels, and depletion of resources – are intangible. Further, while drought and extreme temperatures have undoubtedly exacerbated poverty and forced displacement in regions such as Syria, Sudan, and Bangladesh; in a knotted web of additional political, social, and economic grievances, isolating climate as a cause of conflict is difficult to ascertain.

With that being said, while the empirical evidence remains uncertain, it is critical to treat climate change as not merely an environmental or economic concern, but as an international security issue, as well. To analyse this idea in greater depth, this series aims to form a discussion about the relationship between climate change and conflict. By outlining the impact of climate change on issues including terrorism, migration, and civil strife; this series aims to demonstrate the multifaceted nature of climate change as an international security challenge. It is hoped that, by doing so, it will emphasise the relevance of climate change to contemporary conflict studies, and national security policy more widely.

 

Publication schedule

Part I: Why Has Somalia Proved a Fertile Environment for the Rise of Al Shabaab? The Impacts of Climate Change on the Rise of Islamist Terror by Annabelle Green

Part II: Climate Change and Social Conflict by Professor Anatol Lieven

Part III: Slow Violence: Climate Refugees and the Legal Lacuna of Protection by Ellie Judd

Part IV: Water Conflicts: Climate Change as a Threat Multiplier in Sub-Saharan Africa by Musab Alnour

Gemma graduated from the University of St Andrews in International Relations and Management and is now studying an MA in Conflict, Security and Development at King’s College London. During her undergraduate degree, she studied a range of post-conflict cases, with a particular focus on intractable conflicts such as Israel-Palestine and Bosnia. Through her academic studies and voluntary experience with VSO in Nigeria, Gemma has developed a strong interest in the relationship between corruption and development. Her experience with VSO Nigeria furthered this interest, as she was made aware of the acute impacts of governance on public services, such as health and education. She hopes to pursue further research on the impact of conflict on health security.

 

 

 

 

 

Why do so few Scholars Study the Intersection of Climate and Security?

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by Matthew Ader

Climate change or security, a question of the one or the other? (Image credit: Lisa Benson)

I have had two and a half hours of teaching on climate change and security in two years, and I am unlikely to get any more. BA and MA courses at the King’s Department of War Studies do not offer any modules about climate change. Neither do security studies courses at Exeter, St Andrews, Oxford, or Cambridge. The US has equally slim pickings. Where tuition does exist, it tends to focus on human security and development; not strategy and operations.

And yet climate change is reshaping the world in unpredictable ways. Multiple governments even named it as a major security threat. Academics correlate climate change, if a little tentatively, with increased rates of conflict. However, scholars of strategy and war do not seem to focus on it. I surveyed thirty-four International Relations and Security Studies journals – all those with an H-Index above 30. Since 1995, these journals have, between them, published 45 articles about the intersection of climate change and conflict. As a matter of contrast, just one of those journals, International Organization, published 4356 total articles in the same period.

This initial survey reveals a worrying gap in the literature. Security courses that rely on this research are the incubator for future policymakers and analysts, while academics are often called upon to advise governments. A failure to address climate change risks depriving the next generation of security leaders and thinkers of a solid grounding in an important subject. At best, this may leave governments scrambling to cope with unforeseen challenges. At worst, it could lead to the creation of bad policy – or even open the door for malign actors who take advantage of climate change to push other agendas.

Why has security academia not fully engaged in this subject? Partially, it is because academics are very busy and have many existing commitments. Undertaking novel research or designing new courses, especially when the literature is so sparse, is time-consuming. It is also risky; work on climate change may not be valued in the same way as more conventional topics when hunting for jobs. Worse still, there is little research funding in climate change and security. Ministries and Departments of Defence have declared climate change to be a threat but have yet to put their money where their mouth is. These challenges, combined with the broader structural precarity of academic careers, militate against researchers investigating climate change and security.

These generally applicable concerns are worsened by personnel policy. Security studies departments are not hiring climate change experts. For example, of the eighty academics in the Department of War Studies at King’s College London, only two mention climate as a research interest. This makes cross-sectoral research more difficult. Even more concerning still is that such a deficit reduces opportunities for students interested in climate and security to study the issue. This, in turn, perpetuates the existing scarcity, creating a negative feedback loop. Of course, it would be unfair and inaccurate to blame this purely on hiring practices. A department cannot hire scholars who do not exist. However, it is at least partially a chicken-and-egg problem. The lack of cross-sectoral research and limited tuition opportunities addressing climate and security make it harder to attract additional academic talent to the field.

A related challenge is that climate change does not fit within traditional models of security analysis. It is not a human actor, it does not deploy discrete methods, and it is difficult to analyse through the conventional lenses of IR theory or grand strategy. Grappling with the climate requires scientific and geographical knowledge which falls outside the specialisms of most security scholars. For example, the fierce debate among geographers over the linkage between climate and conflict depends on comparing rainfall data against incidences of violence. Unless an academic is trained to a high level in meteorological modelling, they are unlikely to be able to engage with the discussion in depth. The one partial exception to this is the Human Security field. Human security, with its focus on different issues impacting ordinary people, has covered climate change in more detail. However, its perspective has more to do with development and local interventions than big-picture decision-making. While there are absolutely insights to be gained from that discipline for national policymakers, it does not answer the broader questions required to inform strategic decision-making.

Lastly, while we are seeing the impacts of climate change now, its most dramatic impacts lie in the future. Mass climate migration, unprecedented littoral urbanization, and irreversible water scarcity are not science fiction but their true implications are only just emerging. Scholars are understandably reticent to engage in speculation – it is risky and can lead to poor quality research. This is especially true for security studies and international politics, which are wildly unpredictable. As General McMaster noted, “we have a perfect record of predicting future wars…and that record is 0%.”

This is compounded by the creeping nature of climate change. On 12 September 2001, nearly every security scholar turned their attention to terrorism and the Middle East. I’m sure that a similar statistical analysis of journals from 1985 to 2000 would show relatively few articles about Salafi jihadism, but academics were able to apply their existing knowledge to the new problem. It is not clear that this will happen with climate change, because there will probably not be a single dramatic event which changes conversations and research priorities. Rather, it will incrementally alter global conditions over the span of decades, shaping a new normal.

Such a slow-moving emergency is unlikely to attract enough research to effectively inform policy – especially given that great power competition, terrorism, and biosecurity will, among other issues, remain pressing concerns throughout the period. This is worsened, as noted, by the requirement for expert scientific knowledge to properly study climate change. In short, there is unlikely to be a catalyst for the study of climate change, and if there is, security scholars may struggle to obtain the necessary scientific knowledge to properly engage with the issue in a timely fashion.

There is no single policy prescription that can magically fix this deficit. However, it is a problem – and it must be rectified. Climate change is actively reshaping the world. If security academics do not provide perspectives on it, the security implications may be ignored. Worse, they might be dishonestly weaponised to achieve a larger agenda. We have seen this already with alt-right groups using fear of climate migration as a recruiting tactic. The past four years have clearly shown that radical ideologies can find purchase at the highest levels of government. In the absence of informed views from authoritative sources, decisionmakers may turn to confident ideologues for answers.

At the end of that lecture on climate change, I asked the lecturer what the strategic plan was for dealing with the mass migrations, droughts, and water wars he predicted. He said that there was not a single one. The gap in the research is no one’s fault. But catastrophe does not care about intention. Policymakers will require effective advice to navigate the new challenges of this century. The academic community should mobilise to provide it – and security academics should lead the charge.

[1] This was achieved by searching their archives for all articles from 1995-2020 with “climate change” in the title and manually sorting through. This method is necessarily vulnerable to personal judgement and can exclude work on topics adjacent to climate change & security i.e. food scarcity.

Matthew Ader is a second-year student doing War Studies. He has worked as an intern in a number of security consultancy firms. His academic interests gravitate loosely towards understanding challenges and opportunities for Anglo-American strategy in the 21st century (and also being snide about Captain America’s command ability). He is also an editor for Roar News, and has written for a number of security publications – most especially Wavell Room. You can follow him on Twitter: @AderMatthew.

The Road to Oligarchic Peace: Comparing the Nashville Conventions of 1850 and the Severodonetsk Congress of 2004

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by Daria Platonova

During the Orange Revolution, the people of Ukraine spontaneously took to the streets in what would become known as the country’s “first” Maidan (Image credit: WikiMedia/Sirhey).

In March 1850, following a compromise motion on slavery tabled by Henry Clay in the US Congress and the debates that ensued John Calhoun, a statesman from the slave-holding state of South Carolina, threatened the “aggressive” North with southern secession if it continued to encroach upon the rights of the South in relation to slavery. He said: “If you, who represent the stronger portion, cannot agree to settle [the questions] on the broad principle of justice and duty, say so; and let the States we both represent agree to separate and part in peace.” This statement was followed by two Nashville Conventions in Tennessee at which the southern states debated the Compromise and the potential for secession. In the end, moderation prevailed.

Fast forward a century and a half and in a different country, in 2004, regional deputies took a more radical action than their American counterparts in a series of congresses held in eastern Ukraine and proposed the secession of the east, after mass protests erupted in Kyiv in a phenomenon known as the Orange Revolution. Like Calhoun in America, during the Severodonetsk Congress (Luhansk region) on the 28 November 2004, the chairman of the Donetsk regional council, Borys Kolesnikov similarly couched his message to the deputies in the language of rights: the people of the East exercised their constitutional right to elect Yanukovych, and neither the Ukrainian Parliament nor Viktor Yushchenko could violate it.

After a decade, both countries were plunged into war.[1] In this article, I argue that a comparison between the secessionist endeavours in the United States and Ukraine indicates that, to put it very broadly, internal wars are not caused by some primordial animosities and differences between ethnicities (the so-called “ancient hatreds”). Rather it is the breakdown of an “oligarchic” peace that accounts for internal wars. Here, the different sectional, political and economic interests are held more or less in equilibrium. In this regard, it are especially the compromises that are made between elites that accounts for internal wars.  Indeed, elite compromise is an essential part of a peace process.

On the surface, Ukraine in the post-Soviet period and the United States in the mid-19th century evolved as quintessential “divided societies”. The South in the US was largely agricultural. Slavery, as an economic system, naturally encompassed nearly every aspect of life, and therefore had an undeniable impact on culture and politics of the South. The North, by contrast, was industrialised, with no toleration for slavery. The historian Kenneth Stampp describes the differences between the two sections of the US in the following terms: these were “Southern farmers and planters… and Northern merchants, manufacturers, bondholders, and speculators.” The historian Lee Benson describes the United States at that time as “bicultural,” although there are debates whether the South was a truly distinctive “civilisation”.

The post-Soviet Ukraine developed along the lines of a divided society as a result of its turbulent history: as in America, similar regional divisions existed between the agriculture and services-dominated West and the industrialised East. In Ukraine, the divisions were reflected not only in the political economy of the different regions but also in voting behaviour, the use of Ukrainian and Russian languages, and opinions on the political situation.

In the US, the vital interests of the South were periodically threatened by the North. The two parts of country therefore existed in an uneasy union. In Ukraine, similarly, there were tensions between the West and the East, with the East often resisting the Ukrainisation campaigns (the introduction of the Ukrainian language), showcasing a higher inclination towards Russia, while the West of the country sought closer ties with the European Union and NATO.

In the United States, the pressure to abolish slavery in the South had been building up for a long time. The North criticised the institution of slavery and issued legislation limiting economic growth there. After the Mexican-American war (1848), the major issue facing the Union was whether slavery should be permitted on the new territories. A Compromise was devised by Clay which allowed certain territories to decide the slavery issue for themselves, while entrenching the existing rights of the South to their property in slaves. Continuous debates were held in the Congress for the next several months, with the aim of averting a simmering crisis. Calhoun and the “fire-eaters” (as the radical group of Southerners were called) however argued that the continuing “Northern aggressions” were threatening the state of the Union. The Nashville Conventions inspired by Calhoun were therefore expected to be radical undertakings to demonstrate the unity of the southern states to the North and put pressure on it to ceased its aggressions.

The two Nashville Conventions held in June 1850 and November 1850, however, were by all means moderate. There were some radical Southerners present but, in the end the delegates adopted a “wait-and-see attitude”. They condemned Clay’s Compromise and also the Compromise that was enacted by the Congress in September 1850, issued calls for an extension of the Missouri Compromise Line to the Pacific Ocean, and agreed to meet again. In essence, the Conventions were held in order to demonstrate to the North that the South could act as a single front. In doing so, conflict was avoided.

It can be argued that the reason why the moderates prevailed in America was because the Compromise did not threaten the prevailing “oligarchic peace.” In other words, the Compromise did not endanger the representation of the South in American politics.  As McPherson writes: “California… did not tip the balance in the Senate against the South”. The South still wielded a lot of power in the country. Henry Wilson goes on to write on the power of the South: “They had dictated principles, shaped policies, made Presidents and cabinets, judges of the Supreme Court, Senators, and Representatives”.

In Ukraine, galvanised by the dissatisfaction with the incumbent President Leonid Kuchma’s rule and the outrage at the fraudulent election of his chosen successor Viktor Yanukovych to the Presidency, people in Kyiv and Ukrainian regions took to the streets on that 22 November 2004. These gatherings came to be known as the Orange Revolution. In response to the pickets of the Ukrainian Parliament by the competing candidate from the West Viktor Yushchenko, and the recognition of Yushchenko as president in western Ukraine, the disgruntled deputies in the eastern regions organised a series of congresses attended by delegates from almost all across those regions. They proposed radical actions to tilt the balance back in favour of the East and to force the Parliament and Yushchenko to recognise the unalienable right of eastern Ukrainians to choose their own president. Accordingly, on the 26 November, the deputies of the Kharkiv regional council supported the creation of the South-Eastern Autonomous Republic. The Kharkiv governor Evhen Kushnaryov ruled that no budgetary transfers were to be made to the centre. The regional council deputies proposed to concentrate all power in the regional council and on the 27th of November, the council refused to recognise the central government.

Similar developments took place in other regions. On 28 November 2004, the Donetsk regional council decided to hold a regional referendum in December on granting the Donetsk region a status of an autonomous region within the “Ukrainian federation”. On the same day, the famous “separatist” congress was held in Severodonetsk in the Luhansk region. Following the Congress, a union of all regions was created and the chairman of the Donetsk regional council Borys Kolesnikov was chosen as its head. Kolesnikov proposed to create a “new federal state in the form of a South-Eastern Republic with the capital in Kharkiv,” if Yushchenko won the presidential election.

However, as in America, the conflict was avoided and, in the end, moderation prevailed. Again, the talks between the opposing camps of Yushchenko and Yanukovych carried on through the crisis period. The election results were cancelled, a new election day was agreed, and, most importantly, the two competing sides agreed to a major amendment in the Ukrainian constitution. Like Clay’s compromise, Kuchma’s amendments to the Ukrainian Constitution appeared to save the day. The Constitution was to divide the executive (Hale) and grant more power to the Prime Minister and Parliament. This ensured that Viktor Yanukovych and his Party of Regions, despite now going into opposition, could still wield enormous power in Ukrainian politics. Hence, in the elections of 2006 the Party of Regions won plurality in Parliament and Yanukovych came back as Prime Minister. Yanukovych’s Donetsk clan continued to play an important role in politics.

The historical experience of the US before the Civil War demonstrates that when compromises between elites are made and some deeply entrenched elites are still able to stay in power, a conflict can be avoided. With the election of Abraham Lincoln on the 6 November 1860, it can be argued that the elite compromise ceased to work for the South. In the case of Yanukovych, he fled in February 2014 and left the dominant network of the Party of Regions and its members in disarray. It follows therefore that wars are not caused by primordial ethnic hatreds but by the break down of elite compromises.

[1] This is not a place to discuss whether the war in Ukraine is a civil or any other kind of war. This discussion would merit another article altogether.

Daria is a PhD student at King’s College London. Her research focuses on violence and the unfolding of conflict across several regions in eastern Ukraine, 2013 – 2014. She also leads one of the Causes of War seminars in the War Studies Department. Prior to joining King’s, she worked as a teacher. She graduated with a degree in History from the University of Cambridge in 2011. Her broader interests include European history, war studies, and interdisciplinary methods.